Crystalized Munchkinry - Act III - Chapter 33 (Patreon)

Colin looked at her with a frown. "Are you sure this is the way you want to handle it?"

She met his gaze, trying to convey her conviction. "Yes, Colin. I've run the simulations. I'm confident my plan will work."

He nodded, relaxing a little, then turned and began walking toward the exit. "Of course, you'll have to explain it to the Director. I have better things to do."

She snorted at the joke, at least she hoped it was a joke; you never knew with Colin, then directed her drones and armors to box in the Merchants as she began her own preparations.

While her new body was rather sturdy, she still wanted to protect it. It was, after all, precious.

Her solution was a human-sized, dragon-themed suit of armor built to fit her body. Fortunately, it didn't require life support, leaving more room for weapons and tools. Thanks to Taylor, it even featured kinetic and energy shield projectors, along with a small container of medi-gel.

Colin's design was clearly superior, however, and those improvements would appear in the next iteration of the armor.

The suit was conveniently stored in the next room, so it took only a few seconds to put it on while leveraging her multitasking ability to monitor the opposing force.

The Merchants arrived in several trucks that had seen better days, along with an unholy amalgamation of a sixteen-wheeler, a tank, and a school bus.

Upon closer examination, she realized part of the main body had actually come from a yellow school bus.

Although only a simple barrier blocked the gate, they chose to crash through the fence instead. She observed a purplish-blue field appear around the abomination before it struck, confirming that both Squealer and Skidmark were present. She still couldn't account for Mush, but thanks to her drones, there was little chance of the trash manipulator catching them by surprise.

As soon as the armor was on, she powered down her body and transferred control to the suit. There was no need to waste processing power controlling both.

She watched Colin leave the building, striding purposefully toward the horde of drugged-up gangsters. She found it amusing that he intimidated them enough for a few in the back to begin sneaking away.

Of course, her drones were waiting for them, capturing the deserters at a distance where no noise would alert the attacking force.

No need to clue them in.

Dealing with these low-level criminals was so much easier than handling S-Class threats.

Maybe she could convince the Guild leadership to organize a 'cleanup charity event,' where they traveled from city to city capturing minor criminal groups…

She could probably sell tickets…

Her musings ended when a shot from the monstrous truck slammed into the building. Fortunately, the integrated kinetic shield held, and the only result was the projectile exploding harmlessly against it, showering the ground with debris.

She listened as Colin called for them to stand down and surrender themselves for arrest while she waited behind the door for the right moment to enter the confrontation.

After all, a proper entrance was a weapon in its own right.

The Merchants answered with hysterical laughter. She ignored them, continuing her analysis of the Tinker's creation. It was, after all, the most dangerous thing they had brought with them.

She also activated a drone specifically designed to record events in the highest quality she and Taylor could manage. It would serve as evidence and, perhaps, propaganda. As distasteful as she found the latter, she couldn't deny its usefulness.

She listened to the exchange while reviewing her scans, feeding information directly to Colin's helmet display. At the same time, she remained in contact with the local PRT, providing updates on the situation.

The Director sounded angry.

Oh, dear…

Well, she could deal with her later. Perhaps the Director would be more receptive after being presented with the gang's leadership in custody.

An AI could hope.

"You fucker, get out of your shitty building and take your punishment!" Skidmark yelled again through a loudspeaker, probably mounted on the tank. The man seemed determined to ignore Colin entirely, instead ranting about a new Tinker who dared pretend to be Dragon.

It seemed they really were foolish enough to believe it. She tuned out the rest of his ranting and contacted Colin.

"Armsmaster, I will mark the priority targets for you. I will occupy the tank."

His reply came immediately through his hidden microphone. "Understood. Can they escape?"

"No. I have them completely surrounded."

"Backup?"

"On its way. Some units will remain behind in case somebody attempts anything."

"Copy. On your mark?"

"Yes. I think it's high time someone taught Skidmark some manners."

As he stood before at least a hundred armed, drugged-up criminals, two of them parahumans, and something that could charitably be called a tank, he wondered why it didn't even faze him. It seemed his time in Brockton Bay was affecting him more than he'd previously thought.

He made a mental note to discuss it with the psychiatrist during his next rotation before returning his attention to the crowd before him.

The Merchants spread out into a half-circle, pinning him between themselves and the building's walls, with the unappealing piece of tinkertech occupying the place of honor in the center.

Ignoring the laughter, jeering, general mockery from the druggies, and Skidmark's incessant yelling, he reviewed the information Dragon was feeding to his HUD.

His vision was briefly overlaid with a tactical overview of the area, every vehicle and criminal clearly marked. He scanned it quickly, committing their positions to memory for the inevitable fight.

As soon as he acknowledged the display with a practiced eye movement, the overlay vanished, restoring his unobstructed view. Only the colored outlines remained around selected vehicles and individuals, accompanied by a concise legend in the corner of his display.

It seemed Dragon had been enjoying herself with his equipment because he certainly didn't remember programming that feature. The color coding marked priority targets: red for primary threats, yellow for secondary ones, and blue for everyone else.

It was an excellent system. He mentally filed away several improvements that could make it even better.

He tightened his grip on his halberd and, as a calming exercise, mentally reviewed his loadout.

Skidmark's rant was finally winding down when Dragon's message arrived.

“Prepare yourself.”

Slowly, careful not to draw attention, he adjusted his footing into an optimal stance for a sprint.

He made another note about developing jump boots. The added speed would have been useful today.

He lowered his center of gravity and leaned forward ever so slightly.

He was ready.

Now he only needed to wait for the signal.

"For fuck's sake, you stupid bastard! Stop standing there and do something with that fucking pig sticker!" Skidmark yelled in frustration.

The fact that Armsmaster refused to move, doing nothing but reciting his stupid speech, annoyed him something fierce.

Even the fucking Tinker refused to come out, probably stalling until the rest of the assholes arrived.

As if he would allow that. He had the tank, dammit. He made the rules.

He leaned over toward Squealer, getting a nice eyeful, and was about to tell her to start blowing that shitty building apart when the large doors began to rise.

They lifted about three meters before stopping, and someone clad in distinctly dragon-themed armor stepped out.

He couldn't help but grin.

Apparently, the Tinker really wanted them to believe she was Dragon. As if that Canadian whore would build something so small.

Still grinning, he raised the microphone he'd been about to throw away. "Hey there, cupcake! Ready to pay your dues? I promise I'll take good care of you!"

"Hello, Skidmark," the armored woman replied as she walked over to stand beside the bearded idiot.

"So, who the fuck are you? Still trying to tell us you're Dragon?"

This was actually pretty fun.

For once, he was the one with all the power.

It was a good feeling. If he could remember it later, he wanted to do this again. New Wave was pretty weak these days.

With a herculean effort, he dragged himself out of his daydream, made a mental note to get more of the good stuff, and refocused on the pair standing in front of his giant gun.

Then he laughed at his own joke.

"I'm the hero Dragon. You might have heard of me," the armored woman replied.

"Yeah, and I'm Eidolon in drag! Go fuck yourself and come up with a better story, bitch!"

He was really starting to get angry. He gestured to Squealer, who immediately began priming the tank.

The annoying bitch tilted her head to one side. "Oh? Why do you think I'm not Dragon?"

"Bitch, Dragon's suits are way bigger than yours!"

He waved for Squealer to hurry up. He was starting to feel weird. Maybe he was coming down, or maybe something was just hinky. It didn't matter. Either way, he wanted this over with so he could get high again.

"You mean like those?" the armored woman asked, pointing off to one side. "Or those?"

She pointed the other way, and he couldn't help looking. There, hovering in the air, seemingly appearing from nowhere, was a very real and very large Dragon suit.

As he struggled to process that, his gang began shouting that more were appearing all around them. Within half a minute, Dragon's armored suits had surrounded them.

He turned back toward the two heroes as the tinker in the Armor who he now was suspecting to be actually Dragon, spoke again. "This is merely a small suit I use when interacting with lesser life forms."

He could hear the predatory grin in the bitch's voice. Before he could respond, Squealer got his attention by waving her hand and grinning.

"What is it, babe?"

"It's ready!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Trust me, this baby is gonna blooow them away!"

"You are the best, baby!" He gave her a high five and a lecherous grin before turning back to the heroes. "Well, bitch... how about this?"

He gripped the sides of the cabin in anticipation. Then, baring his teeth in a savage grin, he roared at the top of his lungs.

"FIRE!"

As soon as they heard the word "Fire!" they sprang apart, letting the coruscating blue projectile slam into the building.

Armsmaster briefly wondered what the projectile actually was, then pushed the thought aside and refocused on his targets. Ignoring the crashing sounds coming from the tank, he concentrated on reaching the cab of the nearest truck.

Taking it out would allow Dragon to focus more of her attention on the tank itself.

The Merchants on and around the vehicle were still recovering from the explosion. The building appeared unharmed, though the ground seemed to have absorbed the worst of the blast, allowing him to reach the cab unopposed. He immediately dropped one of his ConFoam grenades inside, denying them the use of the vehicle.

By the time he turned around, the Merchants had realized he was there. Some charged him with improvised melee weapons, others leveled their clearly neglected firearms at him.

The smarter ones simply ran.

He wished them luck avoiding Dragon's drones.

Ignoring the melee fighters for the moment, he raised his halberd. At a silent command, the tip split open and several spikes launched toward the targets highlighted on his HUD.

The instant the spikes struck, he issued another command. Nearly invisible wires connecting them to the halberd carried enough electricity to incapacitate the druggies.

He waited a few seconds, idly knocking unconscious an idiot wielding a nail-studded baseball bat, before cutting the current. Their rigid bodies immediately went limp, weapons slipping from nerveless fingers.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, he tossed one of his newest inventions into their midst: a compact device that generated a localized permanent magnetic field once activated.

It landed beside the spasming Merchants and emitted a quiet beep.

Every firearm lying on the ground slid toward it, while metal melee weapons were ripped from the hands of those still clutching them.

He nodded in satisfaction and continued advancing through the disoriented gang. Guided by his HUD, he systematically incapacitated each remaining Merchant with a brief shock from the taser built into either his armored glove or his halberd before securing them beneath ConFoam.

The half-minute it took to deal with the twenty or so gang members proved enough time for Squealer to reload.

A warning flashed across his HUD.

The cannon turned toward him with creaking noises that suggested the tolerances on the bearings were far from ideal.

He was already considering activating one of his defensive fail-safes to protect both himself and the unconscious civilians when several drones decloaked in front of the truck, the air shimmering in front of them.

Reading the status update confirming the defensive field, he turned toward the next vehicle, trusting Dragon to handle the threat.

As he ran, he reviewed his next target and quickly assessed his remaining equipment. He would need to be careful with his ConFoam grenades; even though he had specifically designed them to be more compact than standard issue, his storage capacity was not infinite.

Halfway to his target, he saw the flash anyway. Even with his back turned, the brightness cut through his vision, and only a fool would have missed the thunderous report that followed when the tank fired.

The round struck the shield almost immediately. Contrary to expectations, it did not detonate on impact but was instead deflected upward, where it exploded in the air as his camera on the back of his helmet confirmed.

So much for subtlety. If anyone nearby had not been aware something was happening, they certainly were now.

Sirens were already audible in the distance.

They would need to end this quickly before escalation or collateral damage became an issue.

He redoubled his efforts.

The first drugged-up Merchant, still blinking away the afterimage of the blast after looking directly at it, never registered what hit him before collapsing unconscious.

He swept his halberd through the group, idly noting again how their numbers continued to thin as they went down. Using the weapon’s hooked configuration, he pulled several closer together and dropped another ConFoam grenade among them.

Looking at the rest of the crowd holding weapons in their shaking hands, he took a step forward. As he advanced on the remaining cluster of armed but wavering Merchants, an immense tearing sound echoed across the battlefield. Their faces went pale, prompting him to briefly glance at his helmet feed.

One of Dragon’s suits had apparently gotten a grip on the cannon and torn it free.

He refocused on the remaining targets and stepped forward again.

The people in front of him dropped their weapons.

"I give up!"

"I surrender!"

"I have a wife!"

He scowled and halted his advance. He could not attack surrendering targets, no matter how much simpler it would make containment.

"I have children!"

"But you’re gay!"

"I can still adopt!"

He ignored the drug-fueled idiocy, prodded them together with the halberd until they were clustered tightly, and dropped another ConFoam grenade.

Then he turned and moved toward the next target.

She was enjoying this too much.

The fleeing Merchants were picked up by one of her dedicated forks, another handling the armors, and a third controlling the drones. In truth, she could have done it all herself, but distributing control was safer.

Anything an escaped Merchant did would ultimately be her responsibility. It was better not to give them the chance.

Keeping one eye on Colin, she advanced on the tank, intent on disabling it before it could fire again. The shields on the building were holding, but she had neglected to cover the surrounding area.

With their luck, a second shot would cause enough damage that she would be forced to abandon the site entirely.

That was unacceptable.

Her first move was to strike the cannon with her fist, forcing its aim away from the building. She immediately initiated the jump function and launched herself toward the empty cab of the nearest truck.

She impacted it at full speed, crushing it and taking it out of commission.

Raising both arms, she targeted the remaining truck with one and the side of the tank abomination with the other.

The hands opened up and launched small missiles toward their targets.

The one aimed at the truck punched through the windshield and embedded itself beside the head of a pale-faced druggie. He had just enough time to register it before it detonated into expanding ConFoam.

Observing Alice’s work on explosives had proven far more useful than expected.

The second missile struck the tank at the junction between the main body and the makeshift turret. It expanded instantly, and she could hear the occupants cursing inside.

She frowned.

The cannon was now stuck aimed at Colin.

Before panic could fully form, her fork had already redirected drones toward him, interposing shields between him and the weapon. She exhaled internally and refocused.

She shaped her body language into the sharpest grin she could manage. Several of the remaining Merchants immediately wet themselves.

She strode forward in what she hoped was a suitably intimidating manner, intending to force a surrender when the explosion behind her drew her attention.

Checking a camera feed, she saw the blue sphere of exotic energy strike the shield at an angle and ricochet upward, losing coherence before detonating in the air.

Immediately afterward, one of the larger Dragon suits slammed down onto the tank.

She turned back to the remaining Merchants. “So what will it be, boys?”

They looked at each other, then at her, then at the suit tearing the cannon free from the tank, and dropped their weapons.

She grinned, then quickly enveloped them in ConFoam before moving on to the remaining holdouts, who attempted to take a final shot at her.

It was almost considerate of them to provide an opportunity to stress-test her new suit.