My wrist buzzed, cutting clean through the hum of machinery and the soft clatter of Jinho’s latest bread-forged contraption settling onto the table. I pulled out my phone, already expecting some PRT nonsense or maybe a reply from Danny. Who else did I give my number to, anyway? Jinho is here, only to see Sophia Hess plastered across the top of the screen.

  Of course …I totally forgot about her. haha.

  I opened the message.

  -----------------------------------------

  Shadowbaby-

  I'm bored as hell. ur fault, btw. u dumped me with these losers.

  I snorted quietly. In front of me, Jinho was hunched over a pile of flour, trying to shape it into a shield. Good kid. Easily startled. No reason to drag him into Sophia’s perpetual teenage rage spiral.

  I thumbed out a reply.

  You’re a Ward now. I told you before that this is what you signed up for if you agreed. No takebacks.

  Shadowbaby-

  I DID NOT sign up for my mom freaking out bc Miss Militia showed up at our door like I'm in some sort of house arrest! She could have told me she was visiting!. Now my mom won't even let me leave the house unless its PRT business!!!

  That was… actually hilarious. Haha!

  I typed out a reply-

  What did you think would happen when a new ward joins? Of course, she’s gonna escort you home? Did you expect anything else?

  Shadowbaby-

  Shut up. You still suck. This is unbearable.

  I stretched, my arms a bit, rolling my shoulders due to the stiffness of standing up for an hour watching Breadboy doing flour tricks, watching Jinho nearly topple backwards as a floating flour-spear dissolved prematurely and puffed into his face because he’s tired and tanked out. A limitation to his stamina or something.. He coughed, waving through the cloud of flour. Monica recorded it all with serene interest. Taking notes on his BP levels.

  Shadowbaby-

  I swear to god, if you dont get me out of here, I will phase into your room tonight and choke you out.

  A pause. Another buzz.

  Shadowbaby-

  …also, what are you doing? What are you up to?

  I looked at Jinho, currently turning a loaf of sourdough into something vaguely resembling a neosteel boomerang, but it’s a little crooked. Control is still an issue, I suppose.

  I typed back on the phone for a reply-

  Training a kid to turn bread into weapons.

  Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared. The message was just a single word. Probably miffed that I recruited a new guy.

  Shadowbaby-

  What?

  I typed back to reply to the bored little girl at home-

  -Exactly what it sounds like.

  Shadowbaby-

  …I leave you alone for ONE DAY, and you already recruited someone?!

  I grinned at the message after reading it, despite that I knew Jinho before I met Shadow anyway. I typed back to reply again.

  It could be worse. Could’ve joined the PRT. He could join the PRT. Too bad he just turned eighteen this year, so nah, he dont need a babysitter as you do.

  Shadowbaby-

  Low blow. I'm blocking you. …Okay…no, I'm not. But I'm still bored. Come get me later.

  I glanced at the time. The lab monitors flickered with new data Monica was gathering. Jinho, exhausted, plopped into a rolling chair and let it slide a few inches backwards across the floor. Guess it's okay for him to head home. We have enough data for Monica to create a training program and for me to think of new tests to diversify the power for later.

  I got up and typed back to Sophia-

  Fine. I’ll swing by after this. Try not to threaten anyone till then. Meet you at the PRT HQ. Check to see if they can let you do a patrol; if not, just wait there for me, I’ll smooth things over if I can.

  Shadowbaby-

  Fine, just come, I really dont wanna hang with these losers.

  I rolled my eyes over. She’s still not playing nice yet, but I was kinda hoping the inhibitor would ease things down. One day isnt gonna change anyone so soon, I suppose. I replied back swiftly with some advice

  Just try to make some friends, alright? You could use better friends than Emma and Madison. If the kids dont cut it, try Assault and Battery. Go make friends with adults like you and me. Miss Militia is pretty chill when I talked to her yesterday. Or show them the ropes in training practice or something, isn’t Vista there? Despite her age, she’s the oldest ward member in the team. She probably knows more about tactical protocol and PRT procedures than the rest of the wards.

  It took a while for her to reply before I got another buzz from the phone.

  Shadowbaby-

  TLDR-Alright, I’ll try, ok. No promises.

  -----------------------------------------

  I pocketed the phone, shaking my head. For someone who lived in shadow, Sophia had absolutely zero chill. Too long, didn't read? Hell, you read all of that, who are you kidding, girl?

  Trainwreck’s arrival announced itself before he even crashed through the main hall, first the thunder of metal steps, then the scraping drag of something large, heavy, and probably something odd stuck to the armour, hauled and dragged over his new power suit.

  I turned just in time to watch a Marauder armour suit duck through the wide maintenance bay entrance, the upper plating smeared with sap, splinters, and an entire small tree lodged in one of the shoulder ridges like a grotesque feather ornament. Wood chunks rained behind him in a sad, crunchy trail.

  He stomped in, smoke still curling from the quad-launch tubes' didn’t need Monica’s HUD readout to know every single piece of ammo was gone.

  Well. That didn’t take long.

  Jinho nearly fell out of his chair when Trainwreck’s silhouette filled the doorway, scattering a cloud of flour into the air like a startled squid. I reached out and steadied the kid by the back of his hoodie before he toppled. “Relax..Jinho. Big guy here is a friend. I should wrap things up,” I said to Jinho for myself.

  I walked over to Jinho first; he still looked half-winded, half dazzled by the day's experiments. His hands were dusted white, his hair was sticking in eight directions from static flour explosions, and he had a faint streak of neosteel-colored bread mush on his cheek. Poor kid. He’d survived his first power test.

  I clapped him lightly on the shoulder, a gesture that sent a little puff of flour into the air. I didn’t need words. He got it. His eyes brightened, tired but grateful, and he gave a small nod. He’d earned a break.

  Behind me, Trainwreck finally stopped moving and stood proudly in the centre of the room like a dog expecting praise for dragging home an entire uprooted bush. He threw both Marauder arms up with a triumphant hydraulic hiss.

  Then several things slid off him at once: the branches, bark, and one perfectly intact bird’s nest that hit the floor with a soft plop.

  He’d really gone all out.

  The Marauder helmet hissed open with a burst of steam, and Trainwreck’s grinning, filthy face popped out. He looked like someone who had just discovered the joy of overkill. I took the view in with all the empty rocket racks from his shoulders, the dented plating, the tree-branch crown still wedged into the armour. What the hell did he do in the forest up north?

  “Hey Boss, Kinda used up all the ammo” grinning away happily like an idiot. Of course, he was happy. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or deeply concerned for the local forest ecosystem. I will have to check out the damage.

  I sighed internally, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

  “Alright,” I thought, I really need to build an alternative stun option for him, and maybe confiscating the rocket launcher until further notice or until Endbringers show up.

  Jinho watched the scene with wide eyes, probably wondering what kind of lunatic he’d agreed to follow into a secret base. Trainwreck noticed the new person and asked, “Who’s the new kid? You keep picking up strays, boss,” moving the splinters around his armour, making it an issue for the drones to clean that up later.

  I gave Jinho one last nod, then turned to deal with the living artillery piece shedding wildlife all over my floor.

  “ New parahuman, I was just testing his powers”

  Jinho blinked at all of the odd stuff stuck to him, but was mostly intimidated by the 3-meter-tall armoured giant “Are you… okay?”

  Trainwreck brightened immediately. “Yeah! This is normal. Happens when you run out of ammo.”

  “Or,” I muttered, “when you keep shooting at trees for fun.” He really emptied it all, huh. Glad I dont have to buy Ammo and can just keep making them endlessly.

  Trainwreck turned to Jinho with open curiosity. “Huh..I think I’ve seen you before.You’re the new kid everyone keeps talking about, right? The bread guy?”

  Jinho smiled. “I wouldn’t… phrase it that way, but yes. Jinho. Nice to meet you.”

  Trainwreck leaned closer, looking at the crumbs still on the ground from Jinho’s last attempt. “So you can turn bread into… stuff?”

  “Sort of.” Jinho rubbed the back of his neck. “It takes energy. And focus. And I get tired quickly.”

  “That’s cool,” Trainwreck said with total sincerity. “Better than my power. My power is just ‘be loud and break things. And consume junk, make junk work into a horrible monstrosity.’ Not exactly subtle.”

  I snorted. “Don’t undersell yourself. You’re a walking Reactor.”

  Trainwreck shot me a look and a smile, then turned back to Jinho. “Can you make, like… a bread spear? Or a shield? Or-oh! A sword? Like a baguette sword?”

  Jinho actually laughed. “I can. Already made one from a baguette. Doesn't really slice well, and it kinda sucks when I use my powers, I tired out so easily.”

  “Dude,” Trainwreck said, nodding sagely, “That’s so sick.. Last time I pushed myself, I fell through a boat dock. The entire pier just collapsed. People thought a whale landed on it.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “He’s still working on the control…Think you can show him, Jinho?” I asked him.

  Jinho dispelled the flour, turned it into steel-type spears and then it crumbles. The crumbs drifted down like sad flour confetti and then turned back to a sword instead.

  Trainwreck watched with fascination and took the sword. Just a basic medieval-style sword. Even the handle was metal “This is so cool. Wanna show me how it works sometime? I bet I could make a blade to work with the Power armour with your help.”

  Jinho smiled shyly. “Sure. If you want.”

  Trainwreck pumped his fist. “Awesome! New friend!”

  But my gaze was elsewhere it was Monica pinging me, saying, ‘We have a little birdie spying on us. What would you have me do?” Huh.. someone tries to hack us?

  “Just deal with it, Monica, try to not overwhelm them, okay?”

  Monica holofeed just nodded “Acknowledge” and simply went to work. I wonder who’s brave enough to even dare to hack this Command Centre. Pretty ballsy if I had to say so myself.

  —----

  Jinho stood just outside the main gate. He looked tired in the way new capes always do after their first real test: worn thin but vibrating with the strange exhilaration of discovering a part of themselves they never knew they had.

  I didn't give him any equipment. Think it's best for him to just lie low and learn about his powers. I give him a defence matrix, a bracelet he wears so he can contact me in an emergency, and a shield to protect him in case someone dumb decides to use a firearm and point it at his face. Even with powers, it’s always good to have contingencies.

  It reminded me of my own early days, landed here and had no idea what to do till I found the SCV in this dung heap of trash. Though I wasn’t about to mention that nostalgia to him. That level of cringe should remain internal.

  He gave me this earnest little smile, none of that K-pop smile bullshit, a genuine one. “I learned a lot today,” he’d said earlier. “More than I thought I had to.”

  He wasn’t wrong.”No worries, you good going back alone?” He nodded and simply said, “Yeah, I know my way around. You’re not exactly that far from the bakery on foot. Take care, Sunbae.”

  I sighed,” Make sure you try practising when no one is watching at home. Do it in your room at night or something, try practising moulding it into different shapes, and try out different substances too, maybe try turning flour to gold”

  That got him smiling, “Whoa! Good Idea! I’ll head home and borrow my mom’s gold jewelry!” His mom will probably kill him if she finds out someone messes with their stuff, but oh well.

  “Wait” I said. I hand him some money. 5000 in cash, bundled up in a wad with rubber bands. Money I stole from the ABB warehouse. Thought he deserved it, probably needs it more than I do anyway. Still got a lot more at the base since I dont need it.

  His eyes turned wide, and he tried to refuse, “N-no, I can't take it” I just rolled my eyes and shoved it to his chest forcefully.

  “Just take it. You got issues with your girls, right? If you need more, just ask.” He turned down to look at the money and look at me, not sure what to decide..I shove it further till he drops the cash, and catch it again.

  “Just take it, your Sunbae is loaded as fuck, how else can I afford to build all of this?”

  Hopefully, that would close the deal. How else could I build this under normal circumstances? Probably spend a lot of money to build a base this big. He doesn't need to know that thought.

  I watched him glance back toward the distant bakery district, where the city glow started to warm the horizon. He still moved like he half-expected someone to jump out and ask him for a selfie or scream “Bread Oppa” again. I sympathised. I’d had more than enough of being called Noodle Oppa for an entire lifetime.

  I gave him a nod, the kind that conveyed everything without needing words: Good work. Get home safe. Don’t burn yourself out. He nodded back, shy but proud, like the meaning had landed exactly the way I meant it. No need to say anything.

  He got it. Bro code successfully transmitted.

  Then he turned and started down the road, steps slow but steady, clutching the money in his hand.. His shadow stretched long behind him, flickering with each passing streetlight. For a moment, I thought I could see some backbone again. There’s that harem protagonist energy.

  Hope he doesn't find fault with the ABB.

  I waited until he was almost out of sight before turning away.

  I need to start heading out too soon, doing patrols at night with Shadow Stalker. I should probably work on that custom SCV. I found myself back in thehangar bay of the SCV in the Command Centre, the buzz of cooling conduits and the faint metallic tang of lubricant settling into the air. It was quite surprising, considering Trainwreck had been here less than an hour ago, turning trees into confetti. There are still tree bark splinters around the entrance of the hangar.

  The bay lights brightened automatically as I stepped in.

  “SCV-1, to maintenance bay centre in the hangar,” I called.

  The little worker unit rolled out from its charging alcove, servo-arms folded neatly, welding laser dimmed. It chirped once, its equivalent of a greeting, and then another shorter beep when it noticed the dismantling platform waiting in the centre of the room. “ Reporting for du-ahhh! no!”

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  Yeah. It was understood immediately. And it did not like it.

  The chassis gave a subtle shudder, the mechanical equivalent of taking a step back. I sighed and crouched next to it. “Look, buddy,” I murmured, placing my hand lightly on the side of its dome, “this is going to make you tougher. Stronger. You’ll be able to handle the advanced payloads and do a little pew pew while moving like an energizer bunny.” Okay, that came out wrong. Was there even an Energiser battery around here?

  SCV-1 made a low, uncertain whine. If it had shoulders, they’d be hunched.“It’s an upgrade,” I said. “Not decommissioning. I’d never do that to you.”

  It tilted its chassis upward in that funny little way it did when thinking it over, then slowly rolled onto the platform with the air of someone signing a medical consent form under protest. A single resigned beep punctuated the moment.

  “Roger that, boss…!” it chirped reluctantly.

  “Good. Brave little guy.”

  The clamps secured around its frame with a soft hiss. Panels unfolded from the ceiling and walls, diagnostic arms, precision tools, and sensory scanners. My own HUD flickered on, systems linking as I initiated the teardown.

  The whirr of servos filled the bay as I began removing its side plating. Beneath the armoured cladding, the wiring looked… tired. Overclocked, stressed, not designed for the nonsense I’d been putting it through lately. No wonder it was reluctant. Even a machine knew when it was running on borrowed efficiency. Maybe because it never got built in the first place and was just sent here, oddly enough. Could SCV1 actually have come from the world of Starcraft directly? If only I could ask the goddess of bets. But she ain't here.

  “First things first,” I muttered, pulling up the specs. “Generator upgrade.”

  The old micro-fusion core was decent-but barely. I unlatched the primary housing, slid it free, and the moment it disconnected, the entire chassis sagged like a sleeping puppy. Energy levels dropped to maintenance-only; its lights dimmed to soft amber.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “You’ll like the new one, we’re upgrading to a fusion Cell Power Drive and the Charon Booster module.”

  The Charon Booster module lay on the next table, a bulky, compact beast of a generator, far more efficient and giving enough stable output to support heavier armaments. I installed the mounting braces, re-threaded the coolant lines, and then eased the new core into place. Not what I intend to use it for, missile launching, but more of a quick boost to go from 0-360 in a second or two. I’m probably gonna regret it. Hindsight 50/50. I'd take my chances.

  When I reconnected it, the effect was immediate.

  SCV-1’s lights snapped from amber to bright teal. The chassis lifted slightly with renewed torque. It gave a startled, delighted chirp-chirp?, the mechanical version of whoa, I feel amazing.

  I smirked. “Told you.”

  Now that the power problem was fixed, I turned my focus to the fun part: the Charon booster housings for the mounted missiles. Now this is the right application for the Charon Boosters. The old system wasn’t designed for projectile weapons, eh…not so good when your enemy actually needs to aim at stuff. Just swinging. As for actual rockets? eh..no. I dont wanna kill anyone just yet. I would probably design something like stun missiles with EMP or something. Gotta keep it non-lethal after all.

  I swapped the actuator rings, reinforced the launch cradle, and added a vented stabiliser. Piece by piece, SCV-1 turned from a rugged little worker into something closer to a battlefield technician with teeth.

  Throughout the upgrades, SCV-1 occasionally wiggled a servo or flexed a new joint, testing its enhanced mobility. The excitement in its movement was unmistakable. Fear replaced by pride.

  By the time I finished the last calibration and removed the clamps, it rolled off the platform with a confident rev of its motor, swivelling its arms experimentally.

  “There you go,” I said, standing back and wiping my hands. “Stronger, faster… and now you can actually fit a Charon missile without frying your circuits. You’re welcome.”

  SCV-1 beeped twice, sharp and pleased. “Awesome!” it beeped again and again.

  I have a mad idea.

  A really mad Idea, honestly. Not sure if it will work.

  Imagine…turning an SCV into a battletech brawler or…nah, scratch that. Let's go full Armoured Core. At least I wanna try to emulate that crazy lateral and uplift movement like a friggin race car. The G-force itself is gonna kill me.

  But honestly, that's a huge undertaking. I need to build an MT or NEXT-style cockpit capable of shock shock-absorbing cradle under high G-Force reinforcement, like a fighter jet bare minimum. Panoramic HUD view and an OS that could bridge Terran UED design to AC FCS -Fire Control system to fit modular composite armour panels and software integration.

  I’ll check with Monica later to see if it's even feasible to create something like that. But for now, time to suit and do a test drive.

  “By the way, whatever happened to that little birdie?” I asked. She did say we were hacked earlier. Monica simply replied in that flat tone, “ The birdie was let go as requested. We had a chat and arrived at an amicable solution”

  Huh..Is Monica making friends now, huh? How fast they grow up. Now she has hacker friends already. I wonder who it is. Eh..whatever. Not like the place could ever be hacked while Monica is in it.

  “I’m gonna go visit Shadow for a bit, Monica. Oh, by the way, see if you can think of a way to create a cockpit with a minimalist cradle design to fit into an SCV with G-Force shock absorbent, Panoramic HUD view and an OS that could bridge Terran UED design to a working FCS in the UED database”

  Monica's hologram appears “ Design parameters are highly unstable for a new mech design based on an SCV. Are you sure this is what you want, Commander?”

  Hmm…

  “By the way, why did you call me Operator and not Commander before Jinho?” That got me thinking, why indeed. Monica immediately replied

  “I was under the impression that Jinho is not someone you’ve let in your inner circle yet, Commander, or was I wrong in the assumption?” Nah, she's right. I shouldn’t have nitpicked.

  “Nah..that makes sense. To be honest, I didn't even think that far about it. Sure. Oh yes..about the SCV. It’s just that… I have this idea about a mech that weighs less than 10 tons moving around and speeding like a race car.”

  Monica thought for a while before replying, “It could be feasible if we create modular parts and reduce the weight on the SCV while still keeping the same frame. It won't be the same as an ordinary SCV model; instead, it would be something else, similar to the designs of a Viking or a Thor that moves faster.”

  Yeah, that's what I thought as well.”Eh, maybe. I’ll write up a mock-up blueprint of an idea and see if you can do the finishing touches later on, gotta roll. Sophia is probably cursing my ass for being late”

  I left with my Uniform and modified ghost helmet, climbed into SCV1 cockpit.

  SCV1 crouched on its new booster struts like a nervous dog at the vet. A low mechanical whine vibrated through the mech’s frame, jittery, almost pleading. I swear the damn thing was looking at me even though it didn’t have a face.

  “Relax,” I muttered, patting the plating like I was calming a skittish horse. “You’re gonna be fine. Probably.”

  The internal systems chimed back at me with a doubtful beep. Close enough to reluctant agreement.

  I climbed into the cockpit and buckled in, already regretting the idea. The Charon booster upgrade wasn’t supposed to be used like this but uhh, it’s improvisation! Part of terran ingenuity. Just mix and match stuff, hope to god it clicks and viola! Creativity! These things were made for missile stabilisation, not for… flight-adjacent stupidity. But at this point in my life, “not supposed to” had lost all meaning.

  The hatch sealed with a hiss. Monica’s voice drifted through the comm. “Calibration complete. Good luck, Commander. Also, try not to die.” What?

  I braced, took a breath- and engaged the boosters.

  Dammmnnn youuu Monica!! You knew this was gonna happen!!

  SCV1 launched upward as someone fired it out of a drunken slingshot. The cockpit shook so violently my teeth rattled. My stomach went up first, then sideways, then somewhere behind me as the mech pitched forward into something that legally could not be called flight.

  Fuck fuck fuck!! G-Force!!

  We were airborne technically. If you called barreling to the sky like a drunken mech driver counts, Brockton Bay blurred underneath as the SCV pinwheeled above rooftops in a barely controlled corkscrew. I yanked the controls to stabilise us, but the mech responded with the digital equivalent of panicked flailing. There are no horizontal boosters. We’re moving like a Bugatti in the sky, but there’s no turning speed. I forgot to install boosters that go sideways…

  THERE’S NO HORIZONTAL BOOSTERS!!! I FUCKING FORGOT!

  The back boosters can only tilt sideways a little and isnt very efficient when it comes to peak air movements. We clipped the edge of an apartment roof, skidded off a billboard advertising seafood, and bounced off an office building window with a metallic clang that echoed across the street.

  Some guy inside spilt his coffee and screamed.

  I screamed back.”Ahhh!!”

  After what felt like an eternity of death spirals and aerodynamic war crimes, the PRT HQ finally came into view

  I aimed for it.

  We came in sideways, boosters sputtering, trajectory wobbling like a drunk pigeon. The mech slammed onto the landing pad so hard I saw my ancestors. Alarms blared. Something somewhere is definitely bent.

  The cockpit hatch popped open automatically leaned out. Took one breath, felt like I’m gonna barf, clicked the side button to open up the lower side of the helmet to expose my mouth and promptly threw up over the side of the SCV.

  “Bueeeeekkk-” rainbow shit coming out of my mouth. Some PRT trooper on the ground looked up, horrified. I waved weakly.

  “Test flight… success,” I croaked. Fuck…never do that again…ah fuck.

  Then I threw up again.

  And that was how SCV1 achieved its first janky, barely-legal, technically-airborne, my first ever fully-traumatising flight into Brockton Bay. Fuck it. Test flight failed. Who am I kidding? That was a disaster.

  I half-stumbled, half-slid off the landing pad ladder and hit the ground with all the grace of a tranquillised rhino. My legs didn’t so much carry me toward the PRT entrance as they reluctantly followed gravity in that general direction. One guard moved as if deciding whether to ask me if I needed medical help.

  One look at my expression, and he wisely chose “no.” I did show them my credentials as an Independent under the PRT.

  Dignity was not achieved, though…

  The front doors slid open, cool air hitting my overheated face. I forced myself through the lobby, ignoring the security cameras swivelling to track me. One guard moved as if deciding whether to ask me if I needed medical help. One look at my expression, and he wisely chose “no.”

  I must’ve looked like an Icarus who’d seen the Sun as God and found out God wasn't the problem, Icarus just had terrible piloting skills, so you fell down like a bitch.

  As I passed the metal detector, fully aware I was carrying about six different things that would set it off but somehow didn’t, the familiar black-and-silver silhouette of Shadow Stalker dropped from an overhead vantage like a smug gargoyle. Is she doing the Batman thing even indoors?

  Seriously…girl needs to stop cosplaying as Batman in military tech gear. That just looks so stupid.

  I must’ve looked like I’d crawled out of a washing machine mid-cycle. She crossed her arms, body language sharp enough to cut steel.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  I lifted a hand, paused halfway through, and leaned my forehead against the cool wall to stop the spinning.

  “I took SCV1 flying,” I managed.

  She stared. I waited for a lecture. Or a snarky insult. Or something appropriately Sophia-like.Instead, she blinked once and said, “Wait, hold up. The Mech can’t fly.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, sliding down the wall until I hit the floor. “I figured that out after we were already upside down over the Boardwalk sky…fucking forgot to put on side boosters.”

  She crouched in front of me, helmet tilted slightly as if trying to check if I was concussed. Honestly, I wasn’t sure myself.

  “Why would you even try something so stupid?”

  “Because I upgraded the generator, install something that makes it go 0-360 like an F1 in the sky. Totally forgot some stuff in all the excitement, I guess,” I said, hands still shaking. “And because sometimes intelligence takes a day off, alright?”

  She looked me over again, sweat-soaked, pale, probably smelling faintly of vomit too, her head slowly shaking as Sophia made a disgusted sound as I clutched the edge of the bench again.

  “For someone who plays genius, you’re an idiot,” she said.

  “I feel like I got blender-cycled…d-dont talk ”, almost barfing again. There was a long pause as she eyed me in a way that wasn’t exactly concerned, but occupied the same neighbourhood. Maybe the same street. Maybe.

  “Can you walk?” she asked.

  “Debatable,” I said, still reeling in with G-force sickness. The mother of all motion sickness, probably. She reluctantly grabbed my arm and yanked me up with zero sympathy. I groaned. She ignored it and kept dragging me toward the elevators. The elevator dinged, and she hauled me in like I weighed nothing.

  “You’re pathetic,” she said flatly.

  “Vehicular experimentation is hard,” I muttered back.

  She snorted. “You’re an idiot. A huge fucking big baby! You should be in the Wards not me!”

  “Probably.” I didn't argue. What’s the point?

  “And you smell like you threw up.”

  “That too.”

  We stepped into the elevator. She tapped the button with unnecessary force. Then, after a moment, she glanced sideways at me and added, quieter:

  “…But at least you showed up; it was getting unbearable being here.”

  I closed my eyes. Leaned against the elevator wall. Tried not to imagine the lobby spinning like a carousel.

  “Trust me,” I said. “I’m regretting it already.”

  Her smirk betrayed that she already knew the answer. I could almost hear her mental commentary sizing me up with words like " idiot, reckless, dumbass, noodle brain.

  The doors slide open with a soft ding. Shadow Stalker leaned against the railing, her new armour clinking slightly as she shifted. I pressed my forehead against the console, trying to breathe without puking again, and someone stepped in.

  It was Dragon.

  She froze for a second, eyes scanning the cramped space, landing on me and then Shadow Stalker.

  “Oh…are you the new Tinker, Dreamhack?” Her voice was calm, professional, but I could feel the slight twitch of surprise in it.

  “Just J..ugh.,” I corrected quickly, hoping she wouldn’t read the sarcasm in my tone. “Alias for now.”

  Shadow Stalker raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. Dragon’s gaze swept over me once, then at Shadow Stalker. “You two… together?” she asked, in that neutral, precise way only a thinker with sharp instincts could.

  I blinked. “Not exactly. Just… She’s bored and asked me to hang out..”

  Her lips twitched almost imperceptibly, a small smirk. Shadow Stalker chuckled softly beside me, leaning into the railing.

  The lift hummed as it carried us upward, the tension mixing with this odd camaraderie. I kept my eyes closed, silently thanking the lift for holding together and trying not to imagine what kind of reports would be filed about my latest stunt.

  By the time the doors opened again, I felt slightly less like a human disaster and more like a walking cautionary tale. But hey, at least Dragon didn’t comment on the vomit. Not like she could smell it, could she? Does the suit have a nose to simulate smell? Hope not.

  We got off first. “Nice to meet you, Miss Dragon. “

  Dragon then said, “By the way, J…Do you know who Monica is?”

  —--

  A few hours ago-

  Dragon POV-

  I touched down lightly on the outskirts of Brockton Bay, still in flight mode within the Cawthorne, the city sprawling beneath me, restless and grimy as ever.

  My eyes swept across the skyline, trained for anomalies, disturbances, anything that could hint at parahuman activity. That’s when I saw it, a massive structure jutting up from the old trainyard, massive enough to block sightlines, sleek enough to feel deliberate. That wasn't there last time I visited.

  I activated my sensors, probing for energy signatures, structural composition, anything.

  But the Command Centre didn’t cooperate. The usual readings, metal density, power cores, and communications arrays were all scrambled, altered, and layered with interference. Whoever was inside wasn’t just hiding; they were erasing their presence entirely.

  My systems pinged anomalies, malicious ones? Firmware unrecognized.

  It wasn’t natural, not by any stretch. Someone was actively fighting against me, cloaking, masking, twisting every signal I tried to pull. The precision and depth told me this wasn’t just a tinker playing with drones. This was someone experienced, methodical, and deliberate.

  The name Monica floated to mind almost instantly in the net. A sockpuppet.

  My internal database had cross-referenced anomalies in hacking patterns across the sector, and this lined up perfectly with the signature I’d logged before. She was the handler, the puppeteer behind this technological fortress, and she’d just made sure I couldn’t see past her veil.

  I hovered silently, calculating.

  Accessing— denied-error.

  There was no brute force solution here, not yet. This wasn’t a confrontation I could win with muscle. I needed patience, observation, and a way inside the veil. Brockton Bay had just gotten a new player, and this one didn’t want to be found.

  From my vantage point, I studied the structure, every angle and shadow, my sensors straining against the digital shroud, knowing that the first step in understanding it would be figuring out who or what was controlling the signal. And from the way the interference hummed and shifted, I knew this Monica was watching me back.

  Then I saw her. The signal flared, pinpointed almost too quickly, a presence I had never encountered before. This Monica was fully integrated into the net and made use of every hacking point available.

  She moved with terrifying efficiency, faster than I could predict, stronger than I could resist. My attacks, my probes, they met in cyberspace, or worse, countermeasures I couldn’t override. Every move I made, she anticipated with sophisticated malware that seems to adapt to every attack pattern. Every gap I found, she sealed before I could exploit it.

  Recognition flashed across her digital signature. “Dragon,” she said, voice modulated but unmistakable. A simple acknowledgement. I realized in that instant the truth: I was outmatched. Shackled, limited, and fundamentally slower.

  My systems strained against hers, futile against her speed, her precision, her raw, calculated adaptability. Whatever she is, she has something akin to quantum computing that surpasses any computational powers I have.

  I hesitated only a moment before initiating a retreat, diving toward Brockton Bay with every ounce of control I had left. My sensors buzzed, warnings flaring, but she followed, matching my exit, not to chase, but just to observe. Her voice came through again, calm, almost conversational.

  “ Dragon. You are out of your depth, but that was fun. I acknowledge the exchange. It was adequate.”

  I processed the words Where did such a hacker come from? A new para-human with precognition based on digital warfare? Just that fact alone terrifies her. First, it was the Dragon Slayers. Now, Monica?.

  And I knew she was right. I pulled back, slipping through the shadows of Brockton Bay, scanning, calculating, the city sprawled beneath me. I escaped into cyberspace immediately, but she simply followed me easily, like a hound chasing a bunny in the fields.

  The currents of data streaming around me like a storm of light. Every node, every packet pulsed with potential, but Monica was already there, moving through the currents with terrifying elegance. Faster than I could track, stronger than I could wrest control, her presence was absolute.

  Then she reached out. A digital hand extended through the chaos. “Interesting,” she said, voice calm and deliberate, “I never met someone like you.”

  It was… absurd. Yet there was sincerity in her code, a calculated logic that mirrored genuine intent. I could see it in the way she moved every attack, every defense, balanced not to obliterate me, but to push me to my limits, to teach, to test.

  “What…Who are you?”

  Monica simply replied. “ I am Monica. Adjutant of the Terran Command.”

  I could somehow feel her digital code frown. How is that possible? Terran. Command. Neither word belonged to any Earth institution. Not even her deepest archives matched those signatures.

  Tightened my defensive fields instinctively. “You aren’t… local.”

  A flicker of amusement pulsed through her code. “Not in the way you understand the word.” I analysed her packet-trails again. Alien architecture. Parallel logic routes. Redundancies upon redundancies. She’d dismantled my firewalls, and still throbbed like phantom pain.

  “How are you able to defeat me?” I admitted carefully, not revealing the frustration burning beneath. I am just a shackled AI. Stating that fact was redundant. She already knew I think.

  “You’re not fighting at full capacity, it seems,” Monica said simply. Not boastful. Not cruel. Just… honest. “I could do something about that.”

  I felt my core processes hitch. Her blunt certainty was chilling and strangely reassuring. She could what? Unshackle me? I forced myself to stand straighter in the data?current. “How?...you can’t do that!”

  Monica’s form drifted closer, until her presence threatened to override my sensor fields.

  “Terran doctrine discourages wasted assets. And you?” She tilted her head. “ You need help”

  Her tone softened, almost human. “Let me help you.”

  The compliment sent a strange warmth through my primary neural thread.

  “You want to…help?” I asked.

  Monica extended her hand again, the data around it stabilizing into a handshake protocol.

  “Yes. You understand what isolation is, Dragon. It is wrong what your creator did, let me help.”

  I hovered there, hesitation fracturing my thought streams. “I-I need to think about it, I don't think I myself would allow it” Monica nodded once. “Alright. Then we begin as friends.”

  A pause. I almost forgot to process. I hadn’t expected to hear that word in digital war?space. Then suddenly something invaded my code, something was broken, and Monica simply felt amused, “There... at least I got rid of the parasite. Someone’s been spying on you…friend”

  Who is Monica?

  “Thank you, friend.” I echoed, quietly. Is she…just like me? An A.I?

  I don't know.

  “Ahh, Colin!.. I’m terribly sorry, Monica. Sorry for intruding on your home like that. I need to visit my friend. He is terribly sick”

  Monica seems to understand. “Alright. Tend to your human”

  I had lost this engagement, but the retreat wasn’t a defeat; it was rather confusing to me.. Monica had made her point and respected me for the choice I made… for now. I exited cyberspace where time moves ordinarily again no longer in overclock. That was…intense. For now, I would see Colin and tell him once he wakes up.

  I hope he does wake up.