Daybreaker Alpha - Backstory
Its not easy harboring a dream you know you can never realize. It weighs you down like a wet winter coat, it eats away at all your other hopes and goals as if by having just a little bit more room perhaps that dream could somehow become a reality. For Calvin Michaels that dream had been a dark one a dream of vengeance.
Justice, he thought as he gently rubbed the dry cloth over the cold metal of his uniform. Thats all I ever wanted.
Even as he thought it he knew it wasnt true. Justice, real justice, is a thing of intellect, fairness and compassion. What Calvin Michaels wanted was a thing of passion, red anger and black pain.
Once satisfied that he had wiped the chest plate of his blue and gold armor clean of any fingerprints or smudges he may have left when he had tried it on for the second time in an hour, he set it aside and picked up his helmet to give it the same tender treatment. Paying special care to the data strings inside the helmet which plugged into the ports behind each of his earlobes, Calvin carefully cleaned every wire, connector, magnetic seal and each of the dozens of other technical doodads and thingamajigs whose names he had allowed himself to forget once he had actually passed all the tests, undergone all the analysis, submitted to all the surgeries and signed all the waivers and finally gotten the job. He even made himself polish the little silver logo of the company to which he had signed away his life in order to wear the armor though he didnt try to stop himself from scowling as he did so.
Hell, I can tear down this suit to its base components, run diagnostics and rebuild it faster than any of those lab geeks at Crey Corp who can name the parts and explain how it works, he thought to himself. Ill run this thing through its paces for them. Ill field test this thing in one of the most dangerous cities on the planet until their win their precious contact. Once Ive upheld my end of the bargain theyll just have to deal with me borrowing their precious technological wonder for a little field test of my own.
The name slipped into his thoughts unbidden but once there he couldnt help but remember it all
They had been bystanders, nothing more. In the wrong place, in the wrong time and too damn stupid to run when theyd had the chance. They had been there to pick out an engagement ring and a small piece of Calvin still blamed himself for not being able to afford something better than a ring from a chain jewelry store in the local mall. Hed been saving up for three months and had planned at least another three before he could buy the ring he had picked out and properly propose but when shed told him with a nervous smile and worried whisper that she was pregnant he had immediately dropped to his knee, taken her hand in his and while wearing bright yellow Bermuda shorts, a Flogging Molly T-shirt and a pair of Chuck Taylors he had asked her to be his wife.
After all this time he still cannot understand why she said yes.
Less than 48 hours later they were at the mall listening to the salesperson explain the differences in cut, carat and clarity of the two rings his fiancé just could not decide between. Each was out of his price range but watching the glow on her face Calvin knew he would make it work somehow. She turned to him with a smile on her face and told him she couldnt believe how perfect everything was. She leaned in to give him one of those little kisses she teased him with in public and just before their lips met the first explosion shattered the window of the store and most of the display cases.
Tackling his fiancé, Calvin held her protectively under him as he heard screams start and the last of the glass tinkle down to the floor. The baby! He thought immediately but she was saying Im fine at the same moment.
A second explosion, this one a bit further away, rocked the floor of the third floor mall store. Then a third. Looking over his fiancé one more time to assure himself that she was alright, Calvin rushed out of the store and to the railing to try to see what was going on. Floating in midair about level with the second floor of stores was figure of insanity the likes of which Calvin had never seen.
His flesh, where it could be seen, was more than pale, less than white. It was very nearly translucent. His hair was long and a dark gray and didnt seem to float around his head so much as writhe. His eyes
His eyes all but glowed the color of insanity.
The man seemed very tall and emaciated thin but it was hard to tell due to the dark green robe he wore, hood thrown back, which had sickly yellow symbols which seemed to be moving across and through the fabric in an intricate pattern Calvin would never understand. Around his two outstretched hands this man, this floating nightmare, seemed to be gathering up some kind of smoky dark energy and when the mass of energy around one first seemed to reach its maximum levels it was hurled like a baseball by the laughing ghoul, hurled with explosive and deadly results.
To just further the horror of it all, the floating ghoul did not appear to be alone. On the ground floor of the mall, moving amongst the fleeing, panicked shoppers, there was dozens of small, monkey like shapes which seemed to be wrapped in flames. Whatever they were they seemed intent on clawing and biting and spreading chaos.
We have to get out of here, Calvin called out as he turned and rushed back to his fiancé. If we take the fire steps we should be able to
She grabbed his hand and thrust it onto the bloody mess which was the salespersons leg. Keep pressure here while I check the other customers, she said.
Weve got to get out of here, he said even while following her instructions. I think theyre coming this way!
Im a nurse, I have to help them! she answered while checking out a woman who seemed to have merely fainted.
Love, between us and them, I choose us!
She paused and looked at him, her expression a mix of shock, surprise and disappointment. Cal, she said, her voice sounding
well, he could never quite decide if she sounded sad, angry, or what. He didnt have a lot to base it on as it was then that one of those balls of dark, pulsing energy struck the back wall of the jewelry store and Calvin lost everything in his life.
I should have dragged her out when I had the chance, he thought but immediately he answered himself that there had never been time to do so anyway. There was no escaping that day. Not even now, twenty years later.
In many ways he was a new man when he woke up to find himself in a hospital room; It took some time for him to find out, even more for him to comprehend, but he had a new right arm, new left hand, a new ribcage (on the right side at least,) a new right eye, several new organs and various enhancements and structural supports in his legs and his spine.
Im the freaking Six Million Dollar Man, he thought with a mixture of amusement and despair.
As it turned out, all one needed in order to survive such catastrophic injuries as he had suffered was an organ donor card, a waiver signed by next of kin (hes still not sure if he has anything to forgive his brother for or not or if hes ready to) and for the Crey Corporation to take a special interest in your case.
At the time he had of course heard of some of the more controversial accusations against Crey but he had just assumed they were looking for a guinea pig to experiment upon.
Later, as he was going through the tests and trials required for consideration of acceptance to their Powered Armor Pilot Program, he began to get suspicious about just how easily the prosthetics and bionics they had equipped him with almost two decades earlier in extreme life saving measures seemed to mesh and interact with their newest high tech equipment being designed for Paragon Police Departments new Powered Armor experiments.
Still, no matter what Crey was up to he had to jump at the chance to get his hands on a tool, any tool, that would allow him to seek out fulfillment of the dream hes had ever since that day when he first laid his eyes upon that ghoulish, wraith looking floating [censored].
Daybreaker Alpha: Home from Day One
Daybreaker Alpha slipped into an alley and tapped the proper sequence of keys on his left gauntlet to trigger the teleportation protocols built into his powered armor. A signal was sent to the apartment Crey Corp had provided him and that signal triggered the teleport equipment which took up the entire spare bedroom to lock on to his location and recall him home. Its range was limited to just under a quarter mile but it was enough to save him from having to walk in and out of his apartment building in his armor. His identity wasnt secret as such but he saw no reason to alarm his neighbors or to invite criminals to his home.
His exoskeleton froze for a good thirty to forty seconds as power was shunted from the armors strength and defensive systems and into the teleportation cycle. At these times right before teleportation Calvin Michaels felt trapped inside the suit and acutely vulnerable since he was for all intents and purposes just standing inside a metal can. This was just yet another reason this system was useless in the field but despite his complaints Crey Corp insisted on including it in the Daybreaker Armor but assured him thats its range would be increased and the power issues solved as they garnered more and more data from the suits actual usage.
Finally a calm white light surrounded the exoskeleton, pulsed momentarily and then flared into a blinding mega-wattage before abruptly ceasing altogether and leaving Calvin in his spare bedroom surrounded by computers, docking stations and Lord only knew what else.
Once more Calvin Michaels tapped a sequence into the keys on his left gauntlet and this time his armor started powering down leaving just enough active juice to assist the wearer in the removal of the suit. Calvin began by taking off the bulky gauntlets as the other connectors required a finer touch to remove than the metal gloves would allow. Once those were removed he disabled the magnetic locks which held his helmet in place and after carefully unplugging the neural wires which connected his own mind to the suits neural etchings and BCI, he pulled the helmet off, sucking in a breath of real, true, actual, non-filtered air.
Calvin ran his hands over his brow and face sluicing off the layer of sweat and grit which had formed over the course of the day. Need to talk to them again about some air conditioning, he reminded himself. Hot as hell in there and whatever this metal is it sure doesnt breathe enough for the sweat to dissipate. Felt like chunked tuna sitting around in a can of my own juices
.
Disconnecting from and removing the rest of the powered armor, Calvin debated what he needed more; a shower or a beer. By the time each piece of armor war wiped down and slotted into its individual docking bay (for recharging and data collection) the decision had been made and Calvin headed for the fridge as he started removing the electro-textile body suit which was the data transfer medium between his body and the bulk of the suits systems. The Brain Computer Interface handled everything from data analysis to communications, sensors (external and internal) to systems power over-rides and even limited control over the nanites (which still freaked Calvin out) but the electro-textile body suit allowed the more mechanical systems to respond in complete harmony with Calvins movements and reflexes without even the milliseconds of delay that processing them through a computer would cause.
Bodysuit hanging open, Calvin leaned into the opened fridge and took a moment to enjoy the cooled air flowing across his body before reaching in and grabbing the plastic ring which held his last two beers together. Might as well celebrate a successful first day, he thought, closing the fridge and walking over to slump down into his recliner.
They seemed like a good group, he thought thinking about the rest of the Daybreaker Patrol. One had been late, one had departed early and one had been a complete no-show altogether but he wrote those problems off to mechanical issues, these Powered Armors were all prototypes after all. Working his way through the first beer he wondered briefly if he would be able to keep up with the rest of the crew: The first day had been a rush but had also been hectic as hell. And the others seemed so young but far more experienced at this sort of thing. Still, it was hard to tell much through the armor they all wore and he suspected they all had doubts and concerns about how it would all work out.
Before meeting them all Calvin had assumed theyd all basically be test pilots of the armor they wore, deputized by the PPD merely to allow them to put the suits through their paces in under true field conditions so that a determination could be made on which was most practical for use by PPDs Powered Armor Division. He was still pretty sure this was the case with Daybreakers Gamma, Zeta and Omega but he wondered if perhaps Officer Kirby, Tac-Officer Hoplight (Hoppy, he reminded himself) and Officer J. Justice didnt perhaps have actual policing experience. They hadnt had much time for social interactions but he imagined hed find out more about them as the days and weeks went by.
Officer Justice definitely seemed like she knew what she was doing, he thought recalling how she had taken leadership of the group for the day and had really run them at breakneck pace. First order of the day had been to help out the PPD in getting control of a contaminated neighborhood. Apparently some addicts had broken into a Crey facility and stolen whatever drugs they could find
And they found the wrong thing. Soon addicts across the area had increased strength, glowing eyes and a very violent attitude. The Daybreakers, under Officer Justices lead, had done themselves proud, subduing and containing well over a hundred of the poor lost souls and had even rescued Flower Knight who had gotten in a bit over her head when she tried to find documentation on the strange mutagen that had affected the addicts.
Shes a bit of a spitfire, that one, Calvin thought. She paused maybe a minute to accept the Isolator Badge they wanted to give us in thanks for our service before running us off towards our next task.
I wonder what she looks like out of that suit
But as soon as the thought crossed his mind he dismissed it. They were here to do a job, damnit. Besides, he refused to think of any woman except Wendy who he still considered his fiancé. Until Malfearance could be brought to justice there would be no other passion in his life. Period.
After helping out with the contaminated of the Hot Zone, Officer Justice had led the Daybreakers into the sewers. It was
gross. The fetid water they had to traipse through, the slime oozing down the walls, the fact that people actually congregated down there all had mad Calvin want to loose his lunch.
And those zombie like creatures, what the hell was up with that? He thought with a shudder.
Immediately after their tour of the sewers Justice had pushed them on to yet another mission and another. Somewhere in all the chaos and fighting Calvin had lost track of who he was even fighting and why. Justice just had to point out the villains, he already trusted her enough that he ran in and started knocking heads regardless of what they called themselves or how many of them there were.
He may not be able to put name to face yet (or even name to Powered Armor) but he already knew these people had his back when it counted, they had proven that time and again already. In a very real sense they were all working against each other: They were all there to showcase and demonstrate their individual prototype armor. When push came to shove though they all had really come together as a team.
Calvin felt a sense of pride rising up within him over what they had done and how they had worked so well together but rather than allow it to bask over him and enjoy it he forced it back down with a grimace and the chugging of his last beer. The rest of them were all the for the right reasons, be it to do the work of a cop or just to help better arm and protect cops, they were all there to do right. Calvin, on the other hand, was there for revenge. Once he was skilled enough with the armor, and once he figured out a way to slip it past Creys watching eyes, he was going after Malfearance. That was why he had joined the Daybreak Patrol. That was why he put up with Crey Corp, ignoring his dark suspicions about what they did in general and to him specifically.
Calvin Michaels had put his life on hold for twenty years after Malfearance had slaughtered Wendy and crippled him as they shopped for an engagement ring
But the dark light of revenge was starting to be visible at the end of the tunnel
.
With a grunt, Calvin pushed himself up off of the recliner and headed into the bathroom. Stripping out of his electro-textile body stocking he set it to soak in the sink and started the water running for his shower. Before stepping under the water and washing off the grit his drying sweat had left him caked with he paused to examine himself in the full length mirror.
The first things to jump out at him, as always, were the skeletal robotic arm and leg on his right side. When Malfearance had attacked the mall outside of Buffalo, New York Calvin and his fiancé Wendy had been shopping in the ghoul had used his foul magic to attack indiscriminately. One blast of what research had revealed to be some kind of dark, netherworld energy had decimated the jewelry store the couple had been shopping in, killing her and leaving Calvin all but dead. For some reason Crey Corp. had sent a team of researchers, medics and scientists to try and save his life.
They made me a monster, Clayton thought for the millionth time. Robotic arm and leg, metal ribs, cochlear and retinal implants, reinforcement of my spine and internal organs changed in ways I dont even fully understand
Im a modern day Frankensteins Monster.
He didnt have to look monstrous. Crey Corp. had provided him with flesh looking sleeves for his arm and leg padded to hide their robotic nature. Under clothes or out of direct sunlight they could just about pass for natural except for being a bit too smooth if touched. The false eye they had given him could pass almost any test when he had it in, moving in synch with the real one just like a normal eye would. In darkness there was the occasional shine, kind of a cross between the sheen sometimes seen in an animals eyes or redeye in a badly taken photograph but it did have its benefits as well. The only other outward sign of his cyborg-ness was the two jacks behind his ear lobes into which the neural wires jacked into but Calvin didnt think hed let anyone get close enough to see those except for Crey technical personnel.
Clayton didnt wear the cover ups while in the Powered Armor because the suit was designed to plug into the preexisting modifications. They didnt get much wear while he was at home either for Cal liked the constant reminder of what had become of him, liked how it kept him focused on his real agenda.
Running his skeletal hand through his short black (starting to go grey in a worrying strip just off center of the top of his head) hair and then over his stubbled jaw, Clayton tried to push all thoughts away so that he could enjoy his shower. His foot stopped before reaching the bottom of the tub. His augmented hearing had picked up the sound of the front door of his apartment opening even over the sound of the running water.
Mr. Michaels, a male voice said from the front room.
Dont you guys knock? Clayton asked, walking out of the bathroom. He had considered grabbing a towel to cover himself with but quickly decided not to bother. These guys were intruding on him, too damn bad if they felt uncomfortable. As or himself, Clayton had lost his inhibitions around scientists, researches and other medical personal due to the years of treatments hed been through which required far more indignities than mere nakedness.
No, Mr. Michaels. We do not knock, this from one of Crey Corps ubiquitous Field Agents. Two of them stood inside his still open front door. Black suit, tie and shoes, white shirt, dark glasses and a radio wire running out of their ear, Crey Field Agents looked every bit stereotypical Men in Black which had been the subject of many conspiracy theories before the Rikti War. These days Clayton suspect far more of those theories were true than he had ever before suspected.
We most assuredly do not knock when the apartment and everything inside it belongs to us, the Field Agent continued.
I dont belong to you, I just work for you, Clayton pointed out with a distinct lack of impression upon either agent.
As you will. With that each of the Field Agents took a step away from each other and through the front door more people walked. The first two through the door were a Crey Corp Scientist and Researcher both wearing the rubberized looking protective laboratory gear which hid any trace of their identity and, Clayton often thought, humanity. Through those long, heavy lab coats, the thick protective gloves, the head and face protection and goggles it was impossible to tell even the gender of these Crey employees unless they spoke.
These two walked past Clayton with barely a glance and headed right to the spare bedroom and the Powered Armor stored within it. Right behind them into the apartment came a Medic and a Geneticist wearing almost identical gear as the first two. Behind them came a female Field Agent and Clayton started wishing he had grabbed a towel after all.
The Medic immediately approached Clayton and jacked some kind of medical device into the port behind Claytons left earlobe. The Geneticist very proficiently and very impersonally proceeded to first take skin samples, blood samples, hair samples and then running them through some kind of portable analysis device.
Make yourself at home, Clayton said with obvious annoyance. Hed been through this hundreds of times by now but it seemed much more oppressive now since they had come and intruded upon his apartment rather than him reporting to a Crey Corp medical facility.
You have been drinking, a voice said from behind him. Clayton couldnt tell if it was the Medic or the Researcher as they were both behind him while he eyeballed the Field Agents who sedately stared right back at him.
Two beers, Clayton answered. Its nothing.
Test subject shall refrain from consumption of any substance which could affect their physical or mental state post interface with the RHP Battle Armor Prototype, codenamed Daybreaker Alpha Suit 1 for these trials, and pre examination by Crey Corporation medical, scientific, research or other personnel designated by Crey Corporation to conduct such examinations as they see fit.
Youre quoting my damn contract now? Clayton asked, turning his head to glance behind him. It was too damn beers and I was thirsty. That tin can you have me interfacing with is hotter than hell. I was soaked in sweat by the time I got out of it.
Consumption of water or juice would be acceptable. Alcoholic beverages are forbidden. Also to be avoided are drinks with a high caffeine content, the voice replied.
Youre written report and personal observations were due for submission five minutes ago. Did they include your complaint about the internal temperature of the RHP Battle Armor Prototype in your submission? the other one behind him asked, Clayton thought it was the Medic.
I havent written the damn thing yet, Clayton snarled back.
It was due five minutes ago. It is late. What caused the delay?
I was whacking off, what do ya think? snapped back without thinking and immediately regretted it. Clayton paused for a moment and took a deep breath. These people had a way of pouring rubbing alcohol on any loose nerve he had but he needed to stay in their good graces. I had the two beers and relaxed for a little while. My plan was to gather my thoughts and observations while I showered.
Noted. Complete report immediately upon completion of our exams.
Sure. Fine, Clayton answered. And do you have to stare? This last was said as he turned to look directly at the female Field Agent. Hed been referring to his missing eye, arm and leg rather than his nudity, having man parts exposed was one thing but he was suddenly finding it hard to be exposed as just half a man in front of this agent. Without his fake skin sleeves covering his arm and leg and without his fake eye in he was beginning to feel very exposed indeed.
The female Field Agent, a redhead with a slightly upturned button nose but unremarkable from any other Crey female Field Agent in terms of style, tipped her glasses down and let her eyes roam over Clayton for a long moment before setting them back to rights. Besides that his comment got no response.
A long moment of silence passed as the Crey employees continued to poke and prod at Clayton, The two Scientists form the spare room left and returned with unlabelled boxes and the Field Agents stood by impassively. After a series of injections Clayton asked just what they were shooting him up with.
Its not steroids, is it? I dont want my balls shrinking up or anything. Ive got a few parts of me that work as good as ever and Id like to keep it that way.
The injections keep you from rejecting your various implants as well as keep your body performing at peak performance.
You hear that? Clayton asked the female Field Agent. Peak performance! Ok, no information out of the eggheads but at least that got her to smirk, he thought to himself.
Now the Scientists had gathered in the front room, apparently finished with up and/or downloading data to his armor and replacing whatever parts they saw fit.
Your report is late. It is to be completed and transmitted immediately, one of the scientists advised him.
Yeah, we went over that already, Clayton answered.
Are there immediate observations you would like to provide before completing your detailed report?
Um, yeah. I suppose, Clayton said and ran over things in his head. Like I mentioned to your friends here, the suit is hot inside after its been running for a while. You need to install some air conditioning or something or Ill be drowning in my own sweat.
Subjects comfort is not a priority but will be considered in future upgrades.
Its not just comfort if I pass out from dehydration or heatstroke.
The RHP Battle Armor Prototype carrying designation Daybreaker Alpha Suit 1 monitors pilots physical condition and would shut down before such conditions could occur.
Shutting down could be even worse than passing out in the wrong situation Clayton replied.
Concern is noted and should be outlined in your upcoming report. Are there other observations? the Scientist asked while making a notation on his PDA.
Generally the armor worked great. In battle, some punches seemed to have less force behind them than others though. There was a bit of chafing under my arms and the protective mesh around my neck pinched a bit. The speed boost while running is a blast but will take some getting used to but I think thats my issue not yours. The computerized tracking had a tendency to pick out targets which were too far away for immediate attack; it would help if it could be restricted to targets within arms reach. Clay paused for a minute to consider what else he planned on including in his report. Oh yeah, like I said the speed running is a blast but it would be nice if I had an even faster way to get from one area to another. Would it be possible to extend the range of the transporter?
The scientist completed punching his notes into his data pad before returning his eyes to Clayton and responding. Pilot should attempt to restrict their physical attacks to preprogrammed optimum tactics. Weve uploaded a patch to include a two fisted overhand strike to your prior optimum tactics. These tactics are both programmed and hardwired into the RHP Battle Armor Prototype, codenamed Daybreaker Alpha Suit 1 and will result in the maximum force possible.
A temporary jet pack has been installed to facilitate quicker travel. It is of older and inferior design but was already compatible. Pilot can expect it wear out if put under constant strain. Use should be prohibited to emergency situations until upgrade is available. Teleportation will continue to be limited and plans for range expansion on this project are not approved.
Fine, fine
But what about the pinching and chafing? Clayton asked.
Minor adjustments of fit should be no problem at all. All needed adjustments should be detailed in your report and new measurements can be taken for adjustments sake.
Great! I could use more room in the crotch as well, Clayton said, again glancing at the female Field Agent. No reaction. She must really have her game face on, Clayton thought. Or
Maybe Im just not that funny
Were done here, the Scientist said and the Crey employees immediately grabbed up the last of there things and started departing. The two male Field Agents were first out the door, followed by the gaggle of brainiac types. Second last out the door, the one Scientist sternly reminded Clayton that his report was overdue and expected immediately, then quickly departed.
The female Field Agent was last to depart. She paused at the door to the hallway and turned back to look Clayton over once more. Does it have variable speeds? she asked.
Before Clayton could even think of a response she shrugged and walked out the door.
Report finally typed up, encrypted, emailed to his handlers and shower finally taken, Clayton called to have a pizza delivered and then wandered into the spare room to examine his armor. He could see that a few wires had been replaced and the neural etchings looked cleaner but they were too fine to tell if any adjustments had been made, otherwise it looked exactly the same. They had mentioned at least one programming upgrade, the two fisted overhand attack, and Clayton prepared to put the armor on knowing that any relevant programming upgrades would be revealed once he jacked the neural wires in behind his ears. Before he could plug in, however, he spotted a box sitting besides the door.
It was unlabeled just as all those the Crey scientists had carried in and out had been. Hesitantly, Clayton set the box upon a table and opened it. There was nothing shocking inside merely a few spare parts; two extra electro-textile bodysuits, several neural wires, and various and sundry other small parts which Clayton didnt know the names of but knew how to install.
Clayton sat in a chair and stared at the box. The contents were each in their own individually sealed plastic bag with a sticker carrying the Crey Corporation logo and a barcode.
They cant be spare parts deliberately left for me, Clayton thought to himself. Most of whats in there isnt whats likely to break or suffer wear and tear. That would most likely happen to various parts of the outer shell first, probably the joint casings or some of the inner moving parts.
Did they just forget it? Was it some kind of test? Clayton considered the opportunity for what seemed like ages but he actually came to his decision rather quickly. Crey kept a very close eye on everything, especially inventory. The individual barcodes were some small proof of that. It was too early to give them any suspicions. Grabbing up his cell phone, Clayton used the speed dial to contact his handlers and advise them that a box was left behind during the earlier examinations. He was brusquely told that someone would be dispatched to collect the box and its contents and then hung up on.
Later, opening the door, Clayton was surprised to find that the female Field Agent from earlier had gotten there even before his pizza did. She had even knocked.
I wasnt expecting you, he said stepping back and indicating that she should come in.
I can tell. Youre wearing pants, she answered and strode in to the center of the room.
Um, yeah. Err, sorry about earlier, Clayton said closing the door and sticking his hands into his jeans pockets. It can be frustrating when they all swarm around like that and treat me like a science project. Sometimes I just feel the need to push back a little, you know?
The Field Agent made no response, just stood there staring at him from behind her dark glasses.
Yeah, anyway. I shouldnt have targeted you. Its the others who do the poking and the prodding. You were just doing your job, right?
My job? she asked.
Protecting the brain surgeons, Clayton answered. Thats why theyre always surrounded by you scary types, right?
Protecting them, she said and her head tilted just a bit to the left. That is one way of putting it.
Clayton was finding this who exchange a bit off putting. Perhaps it was just because hed never exchange more than a few words with a Field Agent before but he just didnt seem able to find his conversational balance here.
Well, ok. Let me grab that box for you, he said before turning the words into action. Would you like me to carry it downstairs for you? Its not really heavy but I wouldnt mind.
Thats not necessary. Do I need to inventory the contents?
Feel free, Clayton said setting the box on a table near her. I thought about snagging one of the body stockings so I didnt have to wash mine each and every time I took the armor off but figured itd be best to just request one through proper channels. The rest is just spare odds and ends. May be handy to have around for do it myself repairs but if Crey insists I wait for them why should I complain?
I dont think you making self repairs is the concern, she said. Crey products tend to fetch high prices on the black market.
Ah. Hadnt really thought about that. That kind of stuff really isnt my thing.
No? the female Field Agent asked. But body stockings are?
Oh, heh, Clayton sputtered a bit and could feel himself blush a bit. Theyre required to pilot the suit is all. They transmit date from me to it and vice versa.
Isnt it odd? she asked as she picked up the box, not bothering to have inventoried it. Being connected to a computer like that? To a machine.
Ive been connected to machines and computers for almost twenty years now, Clayton said, lifting his right arm and flexing his robotic arm and opening and closing his robotic fingers. But yes
It is odd. Sometimes I hate it but I always need it.
A silence fell between them and Clayton felt himself feeling even weirder than before. This was almost like having a real conversation with a Crey Corporation employee.
Is it cold? she asked, finally breaking the silence.
What? he asked, feeling as if hed lost the track of the conversation.
Youre err
bionics, she said. Id imagined that they would be cold.
Rather than answer, Clayton stepped a bit closer and held his right hand out to her. She stared at it for a few moments but then finally shifted the box to one arm and reached out and took his hand. It was a bit cold, she noted. Colder than flesh anyway. But even in that short time in which she held hands with him she noticed the robotic fingers warmed up to match her own temperature.
Slowly letting go of his hand, the Field Agent walked to the door and opened it. Clayton watching her the whole way.
I cant picture you in a body stocking, she said from the doorway, her back still to Clayton.
Have you tried to? he asked, not entirely sure what he meant.
She half turned to look at him. Without replying, she reached into the box and then tossed him the package she had taken out.
It wont be any trouble for you? Clayton asked catching it smoothly in his robotic hand, his retinal implants having perfectly tracked its trajectory.
I can take care of myself, she answered and walked out the door.
Clayton stared at the door for a long time after she left, thoughts racing through his head far too quickly for him to catch. Truthfully, he didnt try too hard. The thoughts were all questions Questions he didnt have the answers to. He knew hed eventually have to sort through the questions and figured out which ones he did want answered and how to go about getting them but for now he was content just to stare at the door until the pizza delivery guy rang his bell and knocked him out of his reverie.
((I won't be going day by day or writing up every mission nor every aftermath but I do have a storyline set... Wether that gets ahead of or falls behind the Toon itself will depend on how fast I write and how fast the team levels...))
Daybreaker Alpha: Bits of News
Teleporting back home into his apartment, Clayton Michaels was looking forward to a quick shower and then a couple hours of sleep. Having just finished his first patrol of Paragon city without the rest of the Daybreak Patrol as backup had been thrilling, exhausting and not just a little bit dangerous. He expected to hear complaints from his employer, Crey Corporation, since his contract expressly forbid unauthorized use of the prototype Daybreak Alpha Battle Armor outside of officially run patrols of the Daybreak Patrol but given the late hours and the fact he hadnt heard anything from them yet he suspected his luck would probably last at least long enough for a nap if not until their scheduled visit after his regular patrol nine hours from now.
His luck changed in a different way when, after carefully removing his armor and plugging its components into their various docking bays and recharging units, he decided to check the online news feeds before hitting the shower. He was hoping that his exploits wouldnt be big enough to catch the attention of any of the news agencies. Clayton didnt fool himself into thinking Crey Corp got their information from the Paragon News Network, he knew damn well that his onboard computers were constantly sending data back and forth along the Crey Corps private networks, but he suspected his exploits would be easier to sooth over if there was no Public Image angle that had to be dealt with.
The first item that caught his attention wasnt about him at all, but rather the Daybreak Patrol as a whole. Or, to be more specific, about their new base of operations. The headline, Daybreak Patrols New Base A Gift to Paragon City, left Clayton scratching his head.
Since when do we have a base? He asked himself. Chief Bochco always just sends a signal to our armors indicating where were needed most when our shift starts and we all just gather there
The first couple of paragraphs in the article sketched out some facts for Clayton. It seems that according to a statement released by the PPD, a mysterious donor had stepped forward with funds to construct and properly equip a base of operations for one of Paragon Citys newest superhero groups.
Ive always believed that the Paragon Police Departments people are truly this cities bravest heroes, the anonymous donor was quoted in the press release as saying. The Daybreak Patrol is the latest and one of the most important steps towards giving those brave men and women the tools they need to properly do their jobs. As such, my small gift is intended to reward those volunteers who are putting their lives on the line in order to develop and perfect what I believe will be the future of policing in this city.
Volunteers, Clayton though with a bit of amusement. The financial package Crey Corp was providing him for his volunteering to pilot the prototype Powered Battle Armor was definitely not unimpressive. The opportunities Clayton hoped the role would provide him were really what convinced him but the money was definitely welcome. He suspected the other volunteers were also being financially provided for by the companies which built and designed their armors but so far the topic hadnt come up while they had been busting Skuls, tromping on Trolls or harassing Hellions.
The article went on to speculate as to the identity of the mysterious benefactor and just how large a donation had been made. It was known that the base was designed and built by Heroic Construction, probably one of the most trusted names in construction amongst the superhero community due to their reputation for not only quick, quality construction but also secrecy. Drawing from this fact, the article speculated about the role Mrs. Mary Jane Stark may have played in the donation. Mrs. Stark was sits on the Board of Directors of Heroic Construction, is the sister of PPD Chief Bochco and her son, Derrick, was believed to be on the design team for the new Daybreak Patrol Base.
Well, at least Ill have someplace to go where I can avoid my Crey Corp handlers, Clayton thought. He was tempted to wonder if he could hide out there forever but knew Crey undoubtedly had some kind of fail safes built into the armor which was just one of the reasons he hadnt taken off with it to hunt down Malfearance already.
It was with his thoughts of Malfearance burning their way through his head that Clayton spotted an article about the ghoul itself. Buffalo Brawler Battles Malfearance to Stalemate, the headline read. It wasnt from any of the local Paragon news sources but Clayton had long ago set up a program to search all news feeds for any mention of the murderous [censored]. The first step was to gain the powers, tools and skills needed to defeat the creature which had killed his fiancé but after that was done he would need to be able to find him and using the news feeds to track his crimes was a key step to that.
The article was from a paper local to Buffalo, New York, Claytons home town and where he had his own personal run in with Malfearance. The article praised the Buffalo Brawler, a native superhero who generally stayed close to the city, and provided a detailed account of how BB (as he was known locally) prevented Malfearance from unleashing hundreds of zombies upon the populace of Western New York.
While the Brawler was unable to prevent Malfearance from reanimating the corpses in Forest Lawn Cemetery and a few other local graveyards, the article said, he did interrupt the ritual preventing the spell to spread even further and returning the walking bones and corpses to the former inanimate state. Malfearance was able to escape capture by the Buffalo Brawler by commanding dozens of what were described as fiery imps to attack the hometown hero and delay him long enough to allow the criminal to escape yet again.
Hes still free, Calvin said to himself, unsure how he should feel about that. True Malfearance had a growing body count to his name and was more unpredictable than a Rikti monkey but Calvin Michaels wanted to be the one to take him down and having the criminal behind bars would make it that much more difficult. It would also make his motives that much more questionable. Still, he didnt like that part of himself which wanted the madman to remain loose until Calvin could hunt him down himself, however long that might be.
Screw it, Calvin said after having pondered the moral ambiguities he found himself beset upon by for long enough to realize he wasnt going to solve them without at least a shower and the nap he had promised himself.
Finally under the hot streams of water, Clayton recalled the events of the previous night as he showered.
Clayton had been unable to sleep. Hed been finding himself growing more and more restless to don his Powered Armor the closer hed gotten to a scheduled patrol and finally he had given up trying to sleep last night and had decided to do just that. Crey Corp was surely going to pitch a fit but even deciding to wear the armor and hit the streets had banished the gnawing buzz in his head.
First he carefully slipped into the electro-textile body suit which provided direct commands between his body and the sensors of the prototype armor. Next he climbed into the armors exoskeleton and made sure the sensors were working correctly. The shell, or skin, came next this was the outermost layer of the armor, primarily composed of a mix of metals so secret Crey would not even hint at its components, painted on the outside with the distinctive colors and designs of the Daybreak Patrol and reinforced on the inside with a grid like mesh of impervium. After slotting the fine neural wires into the ports behind his earlobes and creating a direct link between his mind and the suits computers, Clayton was ready to hit the streets.
Tuning in to the local police frequencies, Clayton listened in for something he thought he could handle. He tried not to kid himself about the fact that he was just a guy in a suit and a prototype suit at that. It seemed every day Crey Corp was tweaking the designs or the chips or the programming and Clayton knew only too well how quickly a life could be snuffed out. True, his vital statistics were programmed into Paragons emergency medical transporter and they should suck him out of any jam he got himself into before he truly died.
In Claytons mind, should was the key word there. He couldnt but help laugh at himself realizing just how little he trusted the technology even while wearing a technological battle suit and using it to fight people more than willing to kill him just for showing up. Still, there were risks and needless risks and Clayton was determined to carefully tread the line between them.
It was with these cautions in mind that he hesitated when he heard the first call go out over the police frequencies calling for aid. An alarm had been triggered in the Steel City branch of Virtuous Bank. Details were sketchy but initial reports suggested that a gang of the Lost were robbing the bank and being led by Echidna.
Clayton had read up on the Lost since they were a group he was likely to encounter on his patrols but so far had only limited experience with them. Most of their members seemed to be culled from the dregs of society, the mentally ill, the homeless and the poor who saw little hope in bettering themselves. They tended to look harmless enough, indistinguishable from panhandlers and the like but the truth was they had access to an endless supply or weapons, an almost religious fervor about them and strange mutagens coursing through their bloodstreams. The Lost had few qualms about killing innocents but were also known to take prisoners
Prisoners who if ever seen again were either Lost members themselves or insane shadows of their former selves.
Echidna he knew nothing about. Calling up a file on her via his Powered Armored Suits computer connection with the PPD database, Clayton winced at the photo that came with the sketchy data. She was horrific. Monstrous even. Trying not to even look at the grainy photo, Clayton skimmed the data to see if he thought he was up to the challenge. Reports said she was a skilled fighter, using barbs and spines for both immediate damage and a poisonous effect.
The Lost could be a problem on their own, Clayton thought. Whats Echidna doing with them? PPD profiles show no known link between them. PPD has her Threat Level a few pegs above anything Ive tangled with yet but if I go in slowly
Try to thin the numbers of the Lost a bit before having to take her on
Without having consciously decided to tackle the situation he found himself skidding to a halt just outside the doors of Virtuous Bank. A couple PPD squad cars had arrived already and the officers were just starting to set up a perimeter to try to keep the mayhem contained.
If I dont go in there, Clayton thought as he watched the uniform officers pushing back the inevitable gawkers and spectators, theyre going to have to try and take her down.
Taking a deep breath, Clayton walked up to the doors and quickly stepped inside
Next up: I try my hand at a fight scene and the return of a redheaded Field Agent
And feel free to provide constructive criticism. I know I really should go over and edit these at least once before I post but I am just too darn lazy. I also know I have a tendency to let my tense wander a bit. I also know my technological/scientific/cyborg terms kind of suck since this is really my first attempt at tackling technology influenced story and I mainly avoid Science Fiction for Fantasy. Still, if you have more criticisms feel free to pile on!
Daybreaker Alpha - Solo Patrol
The hot streams of water coursing over Claytons body soothed his aching muscles if not his throbbing head. Unable to sleep the night before, he had gotten out of bed, donned his powered armor battle suit and headed out onto the streets on his first solo patrol as Daybreaker Alpha instead of with the squad of five to eight all in uniquely powered suits all covering each others backs.
The solo patrol had been a success in that he had apprehended some bad guys and had survived to fight another day but there had been some close calls. Too many close calls. With the hot water doing its magic on his aching muscles, Clayton hoped that rehashing the days events in his head might calm his head as well.
The Paragon Police Department had cordoned off a perimeter around Virtuous Bank in Steel City. Inside the bank was a contingent of The Lost, a gang made up of the homeless, the mentally ill and other disheartened converts they swayed over with their odd mixture of weird religious fervor and penchant for violence. The Lost could often be a daunting opponent due to their sheer numbers but they also had a seemingly endless supply of weapons. According to reports that came in over the police band they were being led in this bank heist be Echidna, a threat in her own right, who used deadly barbs and spines to attack her enemies. What connection she had with The Lost was unclear but Clayton figured that was something the PPD could figure out after they were captured.
Clayton tried to calm his nerves with deep breaths while at the same time using his armors sensors to scan the structure of the building. Over two dozen heat signatures were detected, some stationary, some moving with purpose and a few running back and forth seemingly in a panic.
At least it looks like the hostages are alive, he thought to himself.
Using his suits computers to analyze the heat signatures and comparing them to blueprints of the structure downloaded from the cities database, Clayton believed that the front of the bank was unguarded and that he should be free from resistance until he hit the main lobby.
Looks like theyre counting on the threat to the hostages to keep the cops from entering, he said to himself. Ill have to be as quick and quiet as possible if I want to get the customers out uninjured.
With that thought he signaled to one of the PPD officers that he was going inside. The officer looked torn between wanting to join him and relieved that he didnt have to. The officer gave Daybreak Alpha a respectful nod and a solemn Be careful in there and than radioed in to his dispatcher to report the newest turn of events. Now fully committed to this crazy solo adventure whether he wanted to be or not, Clayton had no more cause for delay so finally slipped quietly into the front doors of the bank.
Standing just inside the combination foyer and hallway, Clayton visually scanned the area in more detail than he could through the thick steel and brick walls from outside. The area held a bank of ATMs along the wall, several large potted plants and a table covered with pamphlets about the various loans and investment opportunities the bank provided. Just outside the door which led to the main lobby, there was also a body.
The bastards, Clayton muttered to himself upon spotting the body of an elderly security guard who looked to have bled out from various gunshots to the belly.
Paragon Citys Emergency Medical Transporters were a miracle of the modern age. Their systems kept a constant readout of the vital statistics of everyone registered in their database whenever they were within the coverage area of the sensors. If the statistic showed major problems the person was automatically teleported from their location to the nearest medical facilities where emergency personnel stood ready to take care of them. The survival rate of those entered into the EMTs database was astounding. Unfortunately, there wasnt room in the database for every citizen of Paragon City.
They call us the heroes, Clayton thought. But they leave themselves at risk so that we can be protected. Clayton knew that the citizenry chose to have the heroes covered by the EMTs because they knew the dangers the heroes willingly stepped into on a daily basis but when looking at the prone, unmoving form of the security guard he couldnt help but think the system was flawed.
Upon moving closer to the body, being careful to stay out of sight of the open doorway for the moment, Clayton thought he saw the slightest rise and fall of the guards chest. Pulling up the sensors built into his suit he was able to determine the guard was still alive but the prospects of it staying that way didnt look good.
I have to get him out of here now, Clayton thought. No way to trick the EMT into teleporting him instead of me, theyre keyed into a bodies unique energy signatures. My own transporter only transports the armor and the pilot, nothing else. I could grab him and run outside but Id probably be spotted and who knows if The Lost will just open fire indiscriminately upon the hostages or what theyll do
Clayton didnt like the only solution that presented itself to him but besides leaving the guard there until this was finished and hoping he would last that long he honestly didnt know what else to do.
Daybreaker Alpha to dispatch, Clayton said after patching his suits inner radio to the PPD frequency.
Dispatch on, the monotone female voice said with a boredom achievable only after decades of sending people into emergency situations and learning the importance of being the one calm influence they had no matter how things turned out.
Dispatch, be advised that we have a security guard down in the hallway just inside the front door of Virtuous Bank. His condition is critical and he needs help ASAP. Im going to be moving into the main lobby. Ill take out the hostiles there as quickly as possible and hopefully provide a big enough distraction for you to send a couple officers in here to extract the guard. Clayton knew the plan was shaky he just couldnt think of a better one.
Dispatch to Daybreaker Alpha, we recommend you hold position until appropriate back up can arrive.
Received but negative, Clayton answered. The guard isnt going to last that long.
Dispatch to 7418, the bored voice called out with no indication of approving of Claytons plan or not.
7418 on. Copy direct, answered one of the officers already on scene, likely the one who had nodded to Clayton earlier.
Clayton had inched up to give himself an angle on which to look into the lobby. There seemed to be a grouping of three or four lost just within the doorway. Another one or two on the eastern wall. Sensors indicated even more heat signatures than that but heat signatures couldnt distinguish between hostages and hostage takers so Clayton was just going to have to go in half blind.
Daybreaker Alpha to dispatch.
Dispatch on.
Dispatch, be advised I am starting my distraction in 3
2
1
Shunting ever last scrap of energy into his battle armors strength systems until his gauntlets literally glowed with power, Clayton ran straight into the first trio of Lost members and hit the first with a double fisted overhead blow to the back of the neck which sent the dirty, disheveled scrounger into the floor face first. A left hook to the body of the next followed up by a straight right to his face and two of them were on the ground before the third even had time to draw his revolver out of his filthy, stained and raggedy pants. Clayton didnt let up his assault in the least.
A jab was followed up by a right hook which in turn was followed up by another jab and then a roundhouse blow to the head. Somewhere in the course of the constant barrage of blows Clayton heard and felt the revolver punch him with a couple of slugs, and it hurt and all, but his armor was able to stop the bullets even if it didnt fully negate the kinetic force behind them.
As the third scrounger was falling to the floor in a crumpled mass of bruised flesh and broken bones, the first two were regaining their feet after the initial shock of the attacks had worn off them. They were joined by three more members of The Lost, these coming from the small contingent Clayton had spotted along the eastern wall.
Clayton was suddenly surrounded. While not an entirely comfortable feeling, this had been the plan. Rather than shock and awe, Clayton had hoped to piss off and draw. His figuring had been that if he could make a big enough spectacle of himself, slap down enough of them hard enough and fast enough it just may enrage the others nearby to come after him instead of hiding behind hostages. Or worse, taking their aggression out on them.
Also, being surrounded did have its benefits. Putting the full force of his powered battle armor behind his every move, the quarters were suddenly so close that Clayton was sure to hit somebody with something whether he was throwing a punch, jabbing an elbow into someones ribs or just blindly kicking out hoping to hit someone standing or not.
Not that there werent disadvantages. Being this up and personal with this many Lost scroungers sure made it difficult for them to miss with their revolvers or their fists. Sure, being wrapped up in a protective can of some of the strongest metals on earth meant they were probably hurting their fists more than him but a constant barrage of even the weakest of blows will take its toll eventually. As for the shots from the revolvers, while they did have enough force behind them to hurt (and, Clayton suspected, leave bruises) the armors systems so far were happily reporting that the suits integrity was still riding up near one hundred percent and that he had little to worry about.
Even while he was jabbing and punching, bobbing and weaving and generally slugging it out with the press of Lost bodies, Claytons armors systems were scanning everything in the room. Through his direct neural connection with the onboard computers, the systems were able to tap into Claytons mind and use its resources to classify individuals as likely targets or friendlies with no conscious effort needed from Clayton. In turn, even in the heat and confusion of battle, Clayton was aware that his plan seemed to be working, the few Lost he had not seen hidden amongst the hostages when he first plunged into the room were jumping into the melee almost as quickly as Clayton was able to knock the earliest combatants out of it.
Clayton finally felt able to breathe a sigh of relief once, with nearly a dozen unconscious and broken bodies scattered around the center of the room, he was down to the last of The Lost. His sensors were indicating no wavering life signs amongst those in the room identified as hostages. A few panicked hostages, running scared from one end of the room to the other with no sense of direction and not enough wits about them to actually use the exit caused a bit of confusion for his sensors but all indications were of a happy outcome for this stage of the engagement.
Even while throwing the final knockout blow into the face of the last Lost brawler, Clayton noted his power levels were dangerously low but felt comfortable enough that hed have a moment to rest and recharge them in order to not mind wasting a bit more to scan the hallway he had entered from. All indications were that it was empty. That should be a good sign
.
Daybreaker Alpha to dispatch, he said, once again tapping into the police frequency and simultaneously allowing his armored battle suit to fall into rest mode and recoup its energy losses.
Dispatch on.
Dispatch, can I get an update on the security guard?
Affirmative. The guard was extracted without incident. Good job on the distraction, Alpha. Last information I have had him en route to Steel Canyon Medical Center, the dispatcher advised. Daybreaker Alpha, are you secure at your location.
Thats affirmative dispatch. For now. These hostages are starting to head out but be advised that sensors do indicate several people heading this way from the vault. Ill be moving on to
Before he could finish his sentence, Clayton found himself on the floor three feet from where he had been standing, the sound of the shotgun reverberating between his ears.
The three Mutates had been behind the bank tellers counter. Clayton had picked up their heat signatures but had assumed they were cowering tellers, not overgrown, misshapen mutates laying in wait for him to let his guard down so they could ambush him.
Al at once Clayton saw two of the mutates volleying over the counter, the third, the one with the shotgun, was reloading. In his ear, around the buzz left by the blast of the shotgun, the dispatcher was trying to reach him, asking again if his situation was secure.
No, Clayton thought. Situation is definitely insecure.
Standby, dispatch, he said instead of voicing his concerns and mentally tabbed one each of the red and blue boxes which sat in the bottom right hand corner of his internal heads up display.
The little boxes were icons for available emergency power backups. These resources are for emergency situations only, his Crey handlers had reminded time and again. Life and death, if you will, not just because the inspiration for more power strikes your fancy. They are quite expensive to manufacture and install compatibly with the RHP Battle Armor Prototype you wear. Further, their use has a negative impact upon the lifespan of the RHP Battle Armor Prototype. Each use costs Crey Corporation additional expense via both re-supplying your inventory as well as the necessity of more frequent maintenance of the armor.
Crey Corp: saving lives in the most fiscally responsible fashion possible, Clayton had thought at the time. Now, using the backup resources for the first time, he merely thought Screw it.
As power flooded back into his suit and his strength levels were increased a good ten to fifteen percent above recommended safe levels, Clayton climbed back to his feet even as the mutates closed in on him.
The first to reach him carried a sledgehammer and the thought that if the fists hadnt left bruises, this surely would quickly flittered through Claytons mind even as he raised his left arm up to shield his head from the blow. The sledgehammer crashed into Claytons elbow with enough force to send him staggering to the right. This proved fortunate as a half second later Clayton felt the handle of a firemans axe slam into his gut. If not for stagger after the first blow, the second Mutate would have caught his belly with the blade of the damn thing instead and Clayton didnt want to test his armor against that quite yet.
Having been slammed up close and personal with the slammer, Clayton delivered a quick uppercut to his jaw and then shoved his foot straight into the side of his knee. The axe wielder fell to the floor but Clayton didnt kid himself about him being down for good. Still, no reason not to put the time to good use.
Turning back to Mr. Sledgehammer, Clayton delivered a flurry of body blows into the mutated bastards ribs and stomach. Sure, a solid head shot may knock him out but getting such a clean shot through on a fresh and ready opponent was rare outside of a Tyson fight, pre-ear biting days. Early body work was usually key to being the last man standing; besides, body work was done in close which negated the advantage the sledgehammer gave his opponent.
Just as sensors warned him that his other opponent was regaining his feet, Clayton heard another shotgun blast go off. His sensors immediately informed him that the trajectory had been off target but Clayton had kind of figured that out himself what with the not getting knocked on his butt again and all.
Worried about the ax wielder again, and knowing the one still behind the counter was undoubtedly reloading again, Clayton decided it was time to move to the head and go for the knockout. Sending a left upper cut into Slammers jaw, Clayton took a step back to follow it up with a right hook and a straight left to the head. Slammer was out, but out on his feet. Pulling back to deliver one last blow to turn and focus on the Ax-hole behind him, Clayton once again found himself laying flat on his face.
From behind him, the mutate had swung his firemans axe into the small of Claytons back and sent him crashing into the slammer hed been about to finish off and which he was now laying on top of. Unhappy to find himself prone atop what was undoubtedly a very smelly criminal (Clayton had to assume since his armor filtered his air supply) he was nonetheless pleased that despite the sudden ache in his back that his systems reported his armors integrity was still intact.
Flipping back onto his feet, Clayton launched into the axe wielder. A shot to the gut and a hook to the ribs were immediately followed up by a head butt delivered with enough force that even Claytons own ears were ringing from the metal of his helmet crashing into the bone of the mutates skull.
Staying too close to The Lost member for him to effectively wield his axe, Clayton delivered blow after blow even while keeping a thought to his readouts, knowing he needed to conserve some energy for the blaster with the shotgun. It was a straight punch intended to crush his opponents nose but which instead landed square against his throat which finished the mutate off. He dropped to his knees immediately and started struggling to breathe.
Go ahead and choke out, Clayton thought as he turned away from the disabled opponent to face the one still half hidden behind the counter. You all asked for this. That guard did nothing but try to earn a living.
The Blaster behind the counter had just finished reloading his shotgun. His suit having stood up to the beating so far, Clayton wasnt worried about the shotgun blast so her merely held his ground and braced for impact. Even ready for it, when he was hit he couldnt help but be shoved back a step but besides that the suit was performing beautifully.
Noting the flashing indicators on his heads up display warning him that his back up power supply and boost would be drained soon, Clayton wasted no time before going after the freakishly large, deformed, mutated Lost member. Running forward, Clayton leapt over the counter and tackled the Blaster. The battle armor was optimized for stand up fights but Clayton figured the pure weight of the armor on top of the mutate should provide an advantage that made up for it.
Clayton unleashed the full might of the powered armor battle suit, concerned about his flagging power. Previously, while by no means going easy on the criminals, he had held back some of the suits power for fear of crippling what was, more or less, ordinary humans. With his power running out, this freak looking a bit more non human than the others, and a suspicion that it was this ones shotgun which had taken out the guard, Clayton felt no qualms about dealing out real damage.
The slammer, for his part, had little means to fight back. Being on his back gave him little leverage for throwing punches back and the few he did manage were further dulled by the armor he was pounding on with nothing but his bare fists. In no time at all the Slammer was reduced to doing nothing but trying to shield himself from the onslaught and even that was moot once the Daybreaker drove a metal plated knee into the mutates groin with enough force to cause him to blackout.
Gaining his feet and standing over the most recently fallen of The Lost, Clayton saw in his mind that tiny blue tab finally wink out and felt his armor lose all functions except the most basic.
Good timing, he thought to himself and then immediately made a mental note to voice concern to his Crey handlers about power storage. It was one thing to run dry with trusted allies at your back who can cover you while you recoup your energies but even the tightest group can get separated in battle and an automatic shutdown could be deadly under those circumstances
Allowing his Daybreaker Armor the time it needed to once again collect the energies it needed to function fully, Clayton took a few moments to concentrate on the more passive and energy efficient systems. First he did a scan of the immediate area and noted the vast majority of the hostages had already fled.
Its safe to leave now, he said after turning on the speaker which allowed him to talk to those around him without trying to shout through the armor. Please exit in an orderly fashion, there will be officers waiting outside to assist you and take your statements.
It was so weird, one of the last of the hostages to leave said. That woman
She wasted no time in going after the vault and the money. These guys though, they were just keeping us here and mumbling something about gods and artifexes and demons and other nonsense. None if it makes any sense.
Its all right now. Youre safe. We'll try to make sense of it later, Clayton advised the man who looked to perhaps be a manager of the bank while gently prodding him out towards the hallway that led outside.
Yeah, alright. Good. But, what about that woman? I didnt see her leave. Did she escape? Did she get into the vault?
Clayton probed deeper into the building with his heat sensors and quickly found three signatures that just now seemed to be exiting the vault area.
I believe shes headed this way now, he advised the man.You just head outside until its all over. Ill take care of her.
Ok. Sure
And, uh, thanks, whatever ya call yourself, the man said even as he was running out the door.
Whatever I call myself, Clayton thought with a smirk even as he tracked the heat signatures headed his way. Even in his brief career, Clayton had already met more than a few so called heroes who would have taken personal offense at not being recognized by sight. Paragon City needed all the heroes it could get but in Claytons opinion the hundreds or thousands running around were turning the hero gig from something noble to a kind of popularity contest. Wendy would have argued with him about that, she would have gone on about how a hero had to be known so they could set the example for everyone else. But Wendy was gone. Dead. Murdered because there was no hero around when one was needed. All Clayton cared about was doing what he could to avenge her death and prevent as many others as possible
With his suits power levels back up to sixty-three percent and the last three of the crooks headed his way; Clayton powered his armor back up and positioned himself in a doorway they would have to go through if they wanted to leave without blowing out a wall. Waiting patiently for them to reach him, allowing his energy levels to ticked slowly higher and higher, Clayton remembered that he had been abruptly cut off from the dispatcher earlier.
Daybreaker Alpha to dispatch, he said after once more opening up the police frequency.
Dispatch on, Alpha. Youre condition?
The lobby is secure and sensors indicate the hostages are all clear of the building, dispatch, Clayton answered. Be advised there are still three suspects headed towards my location but it should be safe to send officers into the lobby to detain those there as long as they are cautious.
Received. Thank you, Alpha, the dispatcher said and then started relaying information to the real police officers outside the bank. Clayton cut the connection to the police frequency and focused his attention on the three last heat signatures which would about to turn the corner and run smack into him.
As they ran around the corner and finally spotted him, the three figures paused for only the briefest of moments. The two males, both members of The Lost and both obviously lackey types brought along to help carry loot rather than for their muscle, ran right towards Clayton. The female, Echidna if her ugliness was an indication, skidded to a halt an immediately launched two large, boney looking spines right at the chest of the Daybreaker.
As fast as the spines flew, Claytons systems were able to track their trajectory and report they would head him dead in the chest. He knew he could get out of the way in time but not without leaving gap enough that one or more of them may be able to slip through to get past him. Clayton took the calculated risk that if his armor could withstand a shotgun blast it could withstand impact from these things and was rewarded for his courage when the first struck him and shattered and the second ricocheted off his armor and embedded itself securely in the ceiling tiles.
The first male was surely a new recruit to The Lost for he knew nothing of combat and ran blindly towards Clayton at full speed with apparently no thought to defending himself. Clayton held himself ready until the moment the fool stepped into range and then Clayton unleashed a devastating left hook, right upper cut combination which lifted his opponent off his feet and had him unconscious before he hit the floor.
The second male proved a small part more intelligent for instead of trying to confront the Daybreaker he changed directions at the last minute and tried to slip past him and through the doorway. Clayton quickly reached out and snagged the criminal by the back of his neck.The criminals feet went out from under him and Clayton easily and quickly swung his for around and introduced his face to the reinforced wall.
Two down, one to go, Clayton thought to himself as he turned and started to walk slowly towards Echidna.
So, she said, fresh spines in each hand readied to be used as weapons. I guess this is where you tell me to surrender.
Clayton said nothing, merely continued to walk towards the villainess. He had never hit a girl in his life. Not even as a Daybreaker. In the normal course of his life the very idea would have been unthinkable to him. As a Daybreaker the situation hadnt presented itself before this.
The strong silent type, huh? She asked, seeming a bit unnerved by his silence. But arent you supposed to tell me Im under arrest? Read me my rights or something?
Even as he walked towards her, his sensors scanning her every movement and twitch so as to be prepared for her assault, Clayton wasnt sure hed be able to do it.
Fine. Fine, Echidna said, dropping the spines and raising her hands in the air. I surrender. Throw me in the Zig again. Ill be out before you finish your paperwork, or whatever you cape-types do.
Claytons right gauntlet slammed into her ribs. His left sent the air whooshing out of her lungs as it punched into her stomach. A half second later, as she was bent over and gasping to reclaim her breath, both fists came crashing down on her back and sent her crashing to the floor unconscious.
Hitting a girl ended up being easier than he suspected. All it took was for him to block them out and instead envision the gaunt, pallid face of Malfearance, the [censored] which had slaughtered his fiancé.
That and a convenient, if temporary, problem with his cochlear implants.
Daybreaker Alpha to dispatch.
Dispatch on, go ahead.
Dispatch, be advised the building is secure. The last of the suspects are down. Anything else you could use a hand with?
Good job, Alpha. Thank you. And when cant we use an extra hand? Standby and Ill see what I have
As always, feel free to comment, critique, ridicule, ask questions, make suggestions, whatever.
((Couple of notes before I give you the latest installment:
First, let me thank Typo_Cop for volunteering his editing services to my meager little work. I appreciate his efforts to try and make my writing better, as I imagine so will anyone else who is actually reading this! This segment is the first upon which he's worked so don't blame him for the many, many errors above. Actually don't blame him for ny errors below either - Even if he finds 99% of my mistakes that will still leave plenty left for the readers to find.
Second, below is not the full installment and actually cuts off at a less then prferred spot... The rest isn't quite finished being editing yet but I was getting restless to post and rather than put pressure on Typo who is being so kind I instead decided to just post the partial. If nothing else, I wanted to let anyone who is reading know that this story is not abandoned and will continue as frequently as I can force myself to write...
Third, as always feel free to give me any commentary you wish, pro or con...
And with that, on with the story!))
Daybreak Alpha: Journal Entry
After putting a stop to the bank job the Lost and Echidna had been trying to pull off, my emotions were on fire with exhilaration and I was floating on quite the high. Before I even knew it, I was volunteering my services to the PPD and lending a hand with everything that came up that I could get to in time. I ran my butt ragged what with crisscrossing Steel Canyon non-stop, and taking down everything from purse snatchers to a trio of Freakshow that had the balls to carjack a van belonging to Crey Corporation.
Most of it was little more than showing up and putting the smack-down on lowlife thugs. Getting there was often more tiring than the fights, but a couple of the battles had been touch and go for a bit.
Truthfully, the hardest part was often the decisions I had to make: Do I put a stop to this Troll playing tug of war with an innocent woman over her purse or do I rush right past in order to more quickly respond to a breaking and entering call at a private home? Should I assist with the call about the possible jumper standing atop one of the cities many towering skyscrapers or do I instead answer the call about the gang fight between the Skulls and the Hellions?
I guess I had never thought on it much but I had always assumed the gig of a superhero would be pretty straightforward – Spot the bad guys. Beat up the bad guys. Go home and celebrate. Turns out there is a hell of a lot more moral ambiguity about the job than I ever imagined. Once you realize that crime literally never stops; that there is always a wrong to be righted; or a life to be saved, you start feeling selfish for even taking time to sleep, nonetheless having a personal life or taking a night off. All this was just starting to dawn on me.
Most of my decisions that night turned out alright, or at least unremarkable, but responding to the gang fight instead of the jumper was going to gnaw at me. The fight turned out to involve nothing but two different bunches of suburban poser wannabes trying to act tough and cool while hurling insults at each other from opposite street corners. Either I’m getting older a lot quicker than I realize or the eldest of the group was 14 and should have been in bed hours ago if they had parents who actually did their jobs. Most scattered as soon as I got on scene. Three hung in there and walked up to me and tried to start giving me attitude. Once I energized my armor’s gauntlets and let them glow with power, even these three little braves realized they had curfews and hightailed it away.
The jumper, on the other hand; well, it turned out it wasn’t just a possibility. I don’t think I even want to know why someone would swan-dive off a fifty story building, and what could have gone so wrong in their life that suicide seemed a viable option. Then again, maybe I knew already. Until I had settled my mind on figuring out a way to avenge the death of Wendy, I myself had had some even darker thoughts after waking up in the hospital with half my body missing. It wasn’t something I tried to think about much, but still I knew I would be scanning the news reports in the days to come to see what details emerged about the jumper.
Another bad decision involved the Freakshow carjacking. I couldn’t help but respond to that one once I heard that the vehicle belonged to Crey Corp. It was their Powered Armor Battle Suit I was wearing, after all. It wasn’t loyalty that demanded I respond however, I had never been comfortable about the corporation ever since I woke up in that hospital bed with their cybernetics replacing half my body and with their chips implanted in my head. My distrust of them had only grown since I signed up with them to wear this armor and try to win them Paragon Police Department's next contract to build Powered Armor for the boys in blue. The other heroes I occasionally ran into and talked with had some mighty disquieting things to say about Crey - so no, it wasn’t loyalty, but rather my own self-interest.
In a very real sense the armor I was wearing was stolen goods. Sure, my job was to pilot it for Crey Corp in the Daybreak Patrol to showcase it for the PPD but I had no license to use it outside the Patrol, in fact, I was under strict orders not to. Yet here I was scouring the streets and smacking down criminals with it anyway. Go figure. I knew there’d be no way to hide this little bit of moonlighting from them so when I heard the call about the carjacking I figured perhaps me capturing the scum who had done it and recovering their goods might just be enough to keep me out of their doghouse.
Needless to say, things didn’t go exactly according to plan.
Barely aware I was even doing it; I listened in to the Police band and fed the street names the squad car in pursuit of the van was giving to the dispatcher into my internal computers. They in turn plotted the chase out on a city map, calculated the quickest possible route I could take to intercept and continually made adjustments as the fleeing carjackers made seemingly random turns trying to lose the pursuit. It was almost scary how natural my interface with the computers was while I wore the suit, how automatic the interactions were.
Mentally kicking on the speed boosters which allowed me to run at amazing speeds, I cut through backyards, hopped fences, and even at one point jumped off an overpass to land amongst what must have been very startled traffic and eventually made my way to within visual sight of the pursuit. Just as I took a moment to consider the best way to assist, a bolt of electricity shot out of the back of the van and struck the police car pursuing it. The driver of the cop car must have panicked for it immediately started fishtailing and did a full 360 before sideswiping a bunch of parked cars and coming to a stop. Before I had to decide between checking on injuries and continuing after the stolen van I could see the cops climbing out of their squad car and staring after the fleeing subjects. My computers still had an active trajectory which would allow me to intercept the van, but if it got out of sight, I would likely lose it for good, so I took off after it with a vengeance.
Trying to tackle a speeding van is not a good idea. It is, in fact, a bad idea. A very bad idea.
Looking back at it, I would have been smart to leap up onto the roof of the vehicle. Even though my armor is not particularly agile, I would have been able to get up there and since it is quite strong I should have been able to punch through the roof and keep myself from sliding off. I then could have used my other arm to tear a bigger hole and drop right down into the van itself. Sure they would have heard, if not seen me coming and possibly had time to prepare - yeah, if I actually had, I wouldn’t have been hit by the freaking van doing 60mph!
Still, what’s done is done. What was done was a lot of pain to myself and a complete system crash for my Powered Armor. I knew from simulations as well as regular software updates that my systems could reboot in under a minute under optimal conditions. These conditions? Less than optimal. So I lay trapped in the tin can cage praying they would be back in 50 seconds or so, but fearing that they wouldn’t come back online at all. At least not in time to do me any good.
With such a complete system failure I was blind - literally. The suit was light tight and all visuals came from sensors, scanners, cameras and the like. The armor was airtight as well, but I had been assured on numerous occasions that I had at least a good 30 minutes of viable air inside the suit in case of emergency; that is assuming one trusted Crey Corporation technicians. My cochlear implant, while patched into the armor, was one of my own cybernetics and was still operating. It was impeded by being encased in a metal tube (which is all my armor was at this point), but it provided better than normal hearing at all times and I was a good 70 percent certain that I heard a crash after the van had sent me flying. At this point, my best hope was that the freaks in the van crashed into a building and all died on impact.
C’mon, reboot you *******, I said aloud within my suit as I laid there motionless and useless. Hurry the frig up and reboot! With my cybernetic hearing I heard what I was pretty sure was a door being pounded on and eventually opening with a complaining squeal. I started colorfully cursing my armor, my stupidity and the whole chain of events which landed me sealed up in the useless tube of metal even as I heard the sound of hesitant footsteps falling on broken glass.
“Goddamned capes!” I heard someone scream out. “Always interfering. Always!” I didn’t wear a cape myself but I was pretty sure he was referring to me.
My mental heads up display twinkled into life even as I heard the first crackle of loose electricity outside my armor. “Hurry up, dammit!” I growled as I could do nothing but watch the rebooting sequence play out in my head.
To say I felt the electricity shock through me is a thousand-fold understatement. While the metals of my suit may be conductors there are several layers of insulation between it and my body. Not being a technological genius or even having taken no more than basic high school science, I don’t know if the insulations need the armor to be active or not but the electricity that shot through me made me wonder if I wasn’t strapped to an electric chair instead of laying in a street in the Canyon.
Then again, perhaps the insulation is designed to protect the suit’s systems more than the operator for the rebooting process didn’t seem to flicker at the onslaught.
“This’ll show you,” the voice said from somewhere nearby and I was jolted again and the pain was just simply indescribable. I thought my body would be cooked in its own juices - possibly that I’d just simply explode. Still, the reboot was 87 percent complete.
“You two better crawl the hell out of there quick if you want a piece of this guy ‘cause I am going to fry him but good!” the voice yelled, presumably to his pals still in the van.
Reboot 94 percent complete.
I heard the third jolt of electricity powering up before I felt the pain and anguish of it flowing through me. I screamed so loud within my suit it’s a wonder I didn’t make myself go deaf. I’d have wanted to die right then if the reboot wasn’t now 98 percent complete.
“Seriously guys, you better come take your shots now. I’m not even sure this cape is still breathing as it is.”
Reboot Complete.
Initializing.
ARGH!!!!
“Hey guys? You coming or what?” I heard footsteps on the broken glass again. I was afraid it might be wishful thinking but I was pretty sure they were walking away from me this time.
Initialized.
Systems Powering Up.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon….”
“Hey guys? You two coming? You two alright?”
Systems Active.
Well, it was about friggin time!
Slowly and as quietly as I could, I climbed back to my feet. I quickly spotted the crashed van, it had gone head first into the corner of one of Steel Canyon’s many skyscrapers and the skyscraper won that battle. The front end of the van was accordioned all the way back to the front seats, steam was rising from where I could only assume the engine now sat. Various fluids were pouring out of the undercarriage. As for the Juicer Freak who had so enjoyed lighting me up like a Christmas tree, he was leaning inside the smashed side passenger window, presumably checking on his “guys.”
I mentally checked my defensive systems. Good to go. Offensive systems were also online. There was an annoying buzz of static somewhere deep in the mid part of my brain that I hoped signaled the failure of one of the lesser systems rather than damage to one of my implants, or worse, my brain; but for now there was little to do but try to ignore it. As for what shape my own body was in, that would be determined once I could strip off this armor and check myself out. I knew that everything hurt. Hurt a lot. So far though, everything seemed to be intact and working.
“Guys? Guys, wake up! Seriously!”
It was almost touching how upset the Freak seemed about the condition of his gang mates. OK, not really, but it was surprising.
I got a good look at him as I slowly approached; ready for him to remember me at any moment but hoping I could get nice and close first. He had what appeared to metal poles sticking out from his shoulders, a metal ball atop each and electricity jumping back and forth from ball to ball. There were electrical wires, electrode and emitters sticking out of his flesh, even from his head, and buzzing with electrical energy.
I knew little of the Freakshow. I had always intended to review and even study the PPD’s files on them since I knew I would undoubtedly run up against them sooner or later, but I had always put it off. Even without the review, I knew that they all had mechanical and cybernetic implants to various degrees. It seemed like they were crazy with them, addicted to them. A part of me had always wondered how they had gotten started down that road, how they found new recruits, but a larger part of me obviously didn’t want to know. Perhaps that larger part was afraid it would identify with them too closely.
I was a freak myself, wasn’t I? I needed my mechanical implants, my cybernetics to survive. They were put in by qualified experts. There were a million differences. Weren’t there?
As with so many other questions I found myself asking as I walked down this path of pseudo-cop/superhero/seeker of vengeance, I pushed them aside and decided to answer them another time.
“Guys! You can’t be dead, guys! We don’t die. Not really. Guys? Guys??”
“Excuse me,” I said after mentally flipping on the speakers which broadcast my voice outside my armor. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance?”
The Juicer Freak turned toward me with a look of relief on his face. My fist replaced it even before it could dawn on him that I wasn’t offering the kind of assistance he wanted. He dropped and dropped hard.
“That’s it?” I thought to myself as I looked at his unconscious body. That’s all he had?
Even as I asked that, the electricity started crackling once more from his body and started to rise back to his feet. I didn’t wait for him to get back to his senses, I lent him the assistance of my fists in his face again and again and again until I was sure he wasn’t going to snap back awake, wasn’t going to crackle back to power, and pop back up to his feet.
((Nice thing about servers being down? Gives my editor time to edit!))
Journal Entry Part 2
The realization that I was hungry dawned on me and I idly wondered if I had cereal at home, but then quickly decided I had more pressing concerns for the moment. Leaning into the van as the Freak had been doing not long ago, I checked over the other two Freakshow which had stolen the van. They were both out for the count. My armors sensors picked up life signs and one was pretty stable but it didnt look good for the other. I didnt allow myself to get too upset over it, but I did call it in to the police dispatcher; giving her our location and situation.
While waiting for the police units and ambulance to arrive, I looked over the scene, the fallen Freakshow and the van. The scene was about what one would expect: busted up van, glass littered about and a few scorch marks over where I had originally laid. The back of the van had toppled boxes all around, many of which had busted open and spewed forth their contents. Many individually wrapped, labeled and bar-coded circuits, wires and other components were lying about, as well as other Crey products, possibly components identical to those which made my armor work. A close look at the Freakshow really got my mind racing though.
Taking a good look at the mechanical and cybernetic implants they had, I couldnt help but wonder at just how closely they resembled some of my own. Coincidence? I certainly didnt see Crey logos stamped into any of them but then again only my helmet carried the logo and thats on the inside. I hadnt heard any rumors directly linking Crey to the Freakshow, but I did know Freakshow raids on Crey were not entirely uncommon. Even if there was nothing more sinister than that, I couldnt help but wonder just how compatible the pieces might be.
My conscious thought at the time had been that it would be interesting to compare Freakshow and Crey components to one another to see just how they stacked up side by side, and see if they were compatible. The idea of somehow, someway having a second Powered Armor Suit built had crossed my mind on more than one occasion. Heck, I could do the actual building of it given the right parts and blueprints. I could build things - design, components and money was what I lacked. Still, honestly I dont think I consciously connected the dots between the down for the count Freakshow and the boxes of Crey components, with my own desire for vengeance and the means to carry it out.
Not consciously.
By the time the first squad car screeched to a halt at the scene of the accident, there was nothing for them to see but what I had radioed in to the dispatcher: One crashed van, three unconscious Freakshow and one so-called superhero in slightly dented and scratched battle armor.
I imagined Crey would have little choice but to believe the Freakshow had stashed or discarded a few of the boxes that had been in the van before they were apprehended. Maybe theyd even suspect a bit of larceny on the part of the cops who did the inventory, I hear Crey components are like gold on the black market. As for the Freakshow, I couldnt imagine how they would complain about missing parts as they were being charged with a long list of felonies and misdemeanors.
As for myself? Well, I like to think I am not stupid. My armor was powered down, and shut off before I so much as moved a thing. I would have preferred to strip it all off but I knew I didnt have that much time before the PPD arrived. Moving was a bear in the suit with no power but I couldnt risk any sensors still recording and transmitting back to Crey Corp. I forced myself not to be greedy and took only a few of the smaller parts and those from the more hidden items rather than what would have been in view of my visual sensors when I first looked them over through the armors cameras. I was a bit less careful with what I took from the Freakshow. I really couldnt imagine them complaining anyway. Plus, it wasnt like I was going to cut them open for parts; I merely took a few items which were easily removable and hid without difficulty.
When that first squad car arrived, I was all powered-up. The armors sensors were all aimed externally, not internally, so Crey Corp would never have a way of knowing that inside the armor I was grimacing due to the way the small bag of bits and pieces I had collected were digging into the small of my back. After making a mental note to myself to not hide this stuff in my own apartment, I strode over to the arriving officers and explained the chain of events which led to the scene before him. If a couple minor details at the end were edited out, he never suspected. Why would he? I was a superhero.
After that, I called it quits for the night. Sure crimes were still being committed and somebody should stop them, but I had my own illegal loot to stash. I was in desperate need for a beer and some sleep. The Daybreak Patrol was due to begin their duties less than five hours and that buzzing in the middle of my brain was still there. It was definitely time for me to go off the clock for a while.
I made a mental note stash my goods someplace they would keep for a while, so I stopped once on my way home. My sensors would record where I stopped, so it had to be someplace it didnt look like I was stopping at for an unusual reason - I decided on McKings.
McKings is a bright, flashy fast-food joint that specializes in cheap, greasy food. Its my typical fare. They were proud to remind everyone that they had been the first to introduce the Fly-Thru window to Paragon City but I opted to go inside instead. Stopping first to place my order and paying for it (thank god my belt had a couple compartments for essentials, like some cash and my Hero I.D, it would be annoying to have to take off the armor just to buy junk food) I then headed off to the lavatory.
After locking the door, I made a show of hanging my head, delicately taking off my helmet and rubbing my temples. I would include in the report to Crey I would have to file about my activities the weird static buzz in the center of my brain. By this time it had all but gone away and I was willing to write it off as a side effect of being hit by a van and then shocked half to death but it was still troublesome. The main reason, though, was it afforded me an explanation for shutting down my armor a couple of times outside of my apartment. I was hoping disconnecting would fix it, I would explain easily enough. I was hoping it was due to an armor issue, not a me issue so that wasnt totally untrue.
Once the armor was shut down and I had as much off as I could reasonably take off in a fast-food joints bathroom. I started looking around for a place to stash my stolen property. I immediately wrote off the obvious places such as in the tank of the toilet or on top of one of the ceiling tiles, but I quickly realized there just werent that many places to hide stuff in a public bathroom, so above the ceiling tiles it was. After slipping one off its track and putting my small bag of goods up above the drop ceiling, I slipped the tile back into place and then went about getting back into my armor and powering it up.
Minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom, left McKings and was halfway back to my apartment before I realized I forgot to pick up my food. I grimaced a bit at that but more because I was starting to get hungry than concern over how it would look. That was as easily explained by concern over my head as everything else was. No worries. Besides, all I really wanted at that point was a shower and grab a couple hours of sleep. My brain hurt. My body ached. I had to be at work in about 4 hours. I definitely needed some downtime.
Back at the apartment, just before jumping into the much desired shower, I decided to check the news feed. Most of it was more of the same but there were two items of particular importance to me. One was about the Daybreak Patrol getting our very own base of operations at some secret, hidden locale. So secret and hidden that I knew nothing of it. Still, it would provide me a place to hide out from Crey any time I wanted, I figured. If it was a secret base theyd hardly give access to every corporation submitting a prototype to the Daybreakers - Would they? I figured this base was something I should definitely check out, and soon. It just may be the hiding spot I needed for my ill-gotten goods and who knows, I might even be able to talk to some of the other Daybreakers and see just how much they knew about the designing and building of the armors they wear.
The other news item that caught my attention concerned Malfearance. Apparently he was trying to pull off some major mystical/necromantic/crazy as all get out ceremony that brought the dead and rotted back to some semblance of life. For what purpose, who besides some crazy criminal could ever guess? The Buffalo Brawler, the hometown hero of my native city, had stepped in and stopped him; but let the ******* get away. I had mixed feelings on that last bit. I wanted Malfearance myself. I wanted my vengeance. I wasnt sure if I wanted to kill him or not, but I definitely wanted the choice. That would be tough to do if he was actually behind bars before I got to him. Still, he did have a way of piling up the body count so I couldnt totally just want him roaming free.
Anyway, the shower finally called me from my thoughts and I answered. Once I had drained the building of hot water I wanted nothing more than to take a nap before I had to report to duty for the Daybreak Patrol. I figured I could still get a good solid two hours in. My brain was better, the static buzzing was gone, but my body was still sore and I needed the sleep. Instead, I wrote my report for Crey.
I didnt want to do it but I figured it was for the best. There was no way they wouldnt know most of what I had done and I was actually a bit shocked they hadnt contacted me, and contacted me quite irately, already. Best to do everything I could to keep everything looking above board. The only items I left off were about the few items I had taken and the real reasons for powering down the suit. I did want real answers about the brain issue. I did go out of my way to explain the sleeplessness and anxiousness to wear the armor as my reasoning for going out in the first place. (Is cybernetic addiction a real thing? Was sleeplessness and wanting to be connected symptoms?) I also played up the heroic way in which I recovered their goods from the Freakshow carjackers.
I read the report over twice before finally encrypting it and emailing it off. If anything, it would be suspicious because of just how detailed and complete it was. By the time I was done there was no time left for my nap but Crey Scientists and their Field Agents hadnt shown up so I had at least that to be thankful for. I estimated I wouldnt have to deal with them until after the Patrol. Speaking of which, I had just enough time to eat a bowl of Rice Krispies and to don my armor before I had to take off.
The run with the Daybreakers was easy compared to my earlier adventures. I was able to not think and just go bust the heads I was aimed at. I looked out for my teammates and they looked out for me and there was comfort in that. I was able to put my worries and concerns and questions out of my head for several hours. I was exhausted at the start and even more exhausted after smacking down a bunch of Hellions, several packs of Trolls and even more than a few members of the Lost but I was doing good work with good people. I felt something pure in that.
Sure enough, before I was home ten minutes, Crey showed up.
I pointed out to them that I was already writing my report of my activities with the Daybreakers and apologized for going out alone earlier but pointed out I had already reported on that as well. I got much silence in response. Silence was the basic default position for Crey employees so I wasnt sure if it was a good or bad sign.
A couple Crey Technicians had passed by me without acknowledging my existence and were no doubt going about tending to the Daybreaker Alpha Power Suit downloading its stored date, checking its systems, uploading any updates they may have for it and so on. As the Crey Scientist and Medic subjected me to the usual indignities, pokes, probes and so on, I tried to figure out if these were the same ones as always. It was impossible to tell beneath their ubiquitous uniforms of protective gear. Giving up on that, I examined the Field Agents. They wore the uniform of the Men in Black black suits, ties, shoes, white shirts, dark glasses but at least you could see most of their face and pick out some individualities besides gender if you looked closely enough. The redhead with the cute little upturned nose wasnt here this time. I found I was disappointed about that. Odd.
As the Scientist and Medic carried out their examinations, the Technicians came and went several times. On one passing one mentioned that the armor had been dented and those pieces of the shell had been replaced. I asked if they were painted or not, the Daybreakers colors are blue and gold, but the Technician never slowed and never answered.
Eventually all the tests, all the updates and all the silence was over. As the Crey personnel packed up and were about to depart the Scientist turned to me.
Once all data is analyzed you will be contacted about your moonlighting. And with that, they departed.
Moonlighting? It wasnt as if I was working for someone else, I had been out saving lives. Still, no use worrying about it until they contacted me, I supposed. I sat on my couch for a good ten to fifteen minutes just relaxing after they left. I still had my report to finish but they had seen me working on it so I was in no rush now. I just took some downtime and tried to empty my mind. I was doing quite well at it too, so well I had nearly fallen soundly asleep but just before I reached that much needed state the doorbell rang.
I groaned a bit at losing out on the sleep but got up and went over to the door.
Hello? I asked as I opened the door.
A girl in blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather bikers jacket stood in front of me. She was stunningly cute, even more so when I noticed her red hair was pulled back into two pony tails. She also had a little button nose the turned up a bit at the end.
Did you lose this? she asked and before I even recognized her, her clothing was so incongruous to how I was used to seeing her that it took a while, she tossed my bag of misappropriated salvaged items into my stomach and walked into the apartment.
((Once again, thanks to my editor Typo Cop for catching at least most of my mistakes... And as always commentary is welcomed.))
Sharing Beers
Never pegged you as the type to be left speechless, she said while standing in the middle of my living room and staring at me. Dont tell me being caught out as a common criminal has left you bereft of witty commentary.
I glanced down at the parcel she has tossed at me as she walked in moments earlier. Sure enough, it was the bag of circuits, wires, processors and assorted other high tech doodads I had confiscated after subduing a small pack of Freakshow who had hijacked a Crey Corp van. The items inside were from both Crey Corp and the Freakshow and it was the similarities between the two which initially sparked my curiosity. I casually tossed the bag onto the table next to the door which usually held an assortment of junk mail and turned my attention to the woman awaiting my reply.
She was beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. She was no supermodel, she was too short and somewhat lacking a full figure for that. Instead, she was the embodiment of cute; I was always a sucker for that. She stood about five-five or maybe five-six in the high heeled leather boots she wore. Her jeans were just tight enough to hug shapely and surprisingly long legs for her height. Her leather bomber jacket hung open and the plain white t-shirt beneath it revealed that, while on the small side, perky wasnt just a description of her attitude.
Her face though - her face is what really had my jaw hanging to the floor. Free from the black sunglasses I had never before seen her without, her face just caught my attention and refused to let go. She was currently scowling at me but the squint of her eyes couldnt hide their amazingly bright green color or that certain spark which a very few women have which just makes you go weak. Her button of a nose, a feature I had noticed and admired before, was slightly wrinkled as she scowled at me, but its slight upturn at the end and the very small dash of freckled across its bridge, just magnified the cuteness factor and ruined any sternness she was trying to pull off. And her lips? Well, quite simply, I was just dying to figure out a way to get those lips to smile - for starters, anyway.
To top off the perfection, her hair was probably a shade too red to be real; but natural or bottled, I was always a sucker for red hair. The question of its origin just added to the appeal. It hung to just above her shoulders and had just enough of a curl that I couldnt help but imagine it curling around my fingers as I ran my fingers...
So? she asked, interrupting my thought process.
Oh
Um, yeah. Errr, so what? I asked; ever the master of wit and repartee.
Rolling her eyes and letting out a sigh, she crossed her arms in front of her and actually started tapping her one foot in impatience. I had to struggle to contain a grin acting tough just made her cuter.
So, do you want to tell me why youre speechless all of a sudden? she continued firmly.
Oh. No. Not really, I answered and turned away to head for the kitchen. You want a beer?
Hey! I just caught you red handed. The evidence is right there. And youre offering me a beer? She sounded a little upset.
I pulled a couple of cold bottles out of the misused crisper in my fridge and walked back into the living room. I flipped the cap off of with my thumb (having cybernetic hands does have some benefits), and tipped the other towards her by way of asking again if she wanted one.
She blew a stray hair out of her face and sighed again. Youre really not going to explain that bag?
I never said that.
You just did!
No. I said I wasnt going to explain why I was speechless, I teased. Theyre two totally different things. Ill tell you about the bag, but first I need you to answer a question for me.
Whats that? she asked, her stance relaxing just a bit but her eyes staying narrowed and suspicious.
Who are you here as? I asked. She didnt quite get what I meant so as I opened the second beer and put it down on the table closest to where she stood and then went and sat down in my favorite recliner.
Are you here as a Crey lackey readying to turn me into the guys upstairs? You here as a concerned citizen about to make a citizens arrest? Or perhaps a worried coworker about to stage an intervention over my sudden life of crime?
You dont think Crey already knows and that theyre the ones who sent me? she asked.
Nope. No business suit, I answered referring to the black suit which was all but 24-hour wear for all Crey enforcer types.
I sipped at my beer as I watched her mull that over for a bit. A short time later her shoulders relaxed a bit and for the first time she stopped staring me down and instead turned to grab the beer I left her.
Honestly? I dont know yet. I think its going to depend on your answers, she said and then took a swig from the bottle.
An impasse then, I suggested continuing my best to look relaxed. Truth be told, I was anything but. On the one hand, she obviously had me dead to rights. Sure, she must be interested in more than just revealing my indiscretion to Crey Corp or she would just have done it and not come here to confront me. Still, if she knew about it then I couldnt really believe I had been as devious and subtle as I had hoped. I had to believe Crey was at most one step behind that of their employee here.
On the other hand, I could remember the last time I was alone at home with a beautiful woman. It was almost twenty years ago. The woman had been about to become my fiance. Not long after, that woman, Wendy, had been murdered while we shopped for the ring. I had honestly believed I would never think of another woman in that way; but watching my guest grab a chair from the kitchen, put it down in front of my recliner and then straddle it so her arms could rest on the back of it while she studied me while taking the occasional sip of beer
Well, I wasnt as comfortable as I was trying to look.
You forget, she said between sips. I have all the cards here. I found your stash of goods. I have video of you taking it and secreting it away. Quite frankly, I have you under my thumb, Mr. Michaels.
Not exactly the part I want to be under, I replied. It got me that smile I was thinking about earlier. It was as spectacular as I had imagined.
Well its the only part youre getting, she said. After another sip of beer, she added, For now.
Half my brain suddenly woke up and got excited, the other half panicked. I may be big on the double entendre but when push comes to shove I am far more shy and reserved than I let on.
You once said you didnt belong to Crey. What did you mean by that? she asked, hurrying it out. Perhaps to cover the slight blush I noticed on her cheeks?
Well, you all seem
I started but stopped and corrected myself. Most Crey employees seem - I dont know. Dedicated? No. More than that. Most seem enraptured with the Corporation; blindly loyal to it - as if they live to serve Crey Corp, not like they just work there.
But not you? she asked skeptically.
No. To me its just a job. A means to an end.
What end?
I walked right into that one, didnt I? I could try to just wave it off and say money, of course, but she definitely wasnt dumb enough to buy that at this point. The question was, which angle did I want to take now? I could always go with the truth; but while I suspected she wasnt the typical Crey employee, I couldnt be sure just what her angle was yet and until I was, it could be dangerous to be too truthful. Well, when in doubt, delay. Swigging down the last of my beer, I stood up and asked if she was ready for another. Chugging the last of her own she nodded and gave me a quiet sure as she handed me the bottle.
I rooted around in the fridge for the two more beers longer than necessary but it still didnt give me enough time to decide on the proper tact to take here.
You OK with the bottle or would you prefer a glass? I called out from the kitchen as I popped off the caps.
"Do I look like I have a stick up my butt? she called back and I couldnt help but smile.
Well, not in those clothes, I answered as I walked back into the front room. I paused in mid-step as I noticed that she had shed her leather bomber jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch, and that the t-shirt she was wearing was quite tight.
She definitely wasnt built like a supermodel. She was built more along the lines of some woodland nymph small and sleek certainly, but daring, tempting and promising as well.
One of those mine? she asked with a teasing smile.
Of course, I answered, shaking out of my thoughts and going over to hand her the beer.
She was still sitting astride the kitchen chair so I resumed my place on the recliner but sat more on the edge of the chair rather than leaning back to it. This put us at a more natural eye level even if perhaps a bit too close.
So, you were saying?
You want to know why I am working for Crey?
Yep.
Would you buy that Im in it for the money? I asked jokingly.
I know what you make. Its not that good.
The fame?
You wear a mask and havent given any interviews to the media despite them forwarding requests through the PPD.
True, true. Maybe I do it for the chance to help people?
Maybe you could try the truth?
Maybe, I said. Maybe I could, but should I?
She thought about it a second and then said Yes, I think you should. Then, with her wrists crossed over the back of the chair, she leaned back and arched her back in a very intriguing way. As I was studying the way this caused her t-shirt to stretch across her body, she appeared to be gathering her thoughts.
Taking a deep breathe and closing her eyes, she went on: Crey will figure out exactly what I figured out once they go over the data your suit constantly sends back to them. You simply have no idea how many sensors, cameras, microphones and other gear they have packed into that armor of yours.
I figured it out before they did simply because I was the one on monitor duty last night. Theyll figure it out once they read my report. I suspect we have about an hour before that happens. Unless...
That brought my eyes right back to hers, which were now open again and had been obviously watching me check her out.
Unless? I asked.
Unless I decide I dont want Crey to figure it out.
I thought about it a minute. You sure its your thumb you have me under? It feels more like your boot heel, I said.
Whatever turns you on, Mr. Michaels.
I smirked at her. Well, the way you call me Mr. Michaels is a start. You make it sound naughty in a very good way.
She smiled at me but otherwise just held her position and waited on me to give her more.
About an hour, you said?
Uh huh. Unless I call someone I trust and have them substitute the alternate report and data streams I prepared before I came here.
Well then, I guess Ill just give you the short version. After that, you can either call your friend and Ill give you more details if you want them or you can not call your friend and well just see how it all pans out.
Sounds like a plan, Mr. Michaels, she said. Then a little mischievous smile came across her lips. Hey, you got any popcorn? I always like to snack during story time.
((Woohoo, broke a hundred views. A modest milestone but I'll take what I can get... 'Course I can't help but wonder if I have one fan just checking in every day to see if there's a new installment or not 
As for new installment - It is coming soon. It's started and I should be able to knock it out once I force myself back into it. Hopefully it'll round things up and point Alpha/Clayton Michaels onto a more coherant storyline... I tend to feel I have been warbling around a bit so far. I may break one of my cardinal rules and actually write an outline for the rest and try to stick to it.... Err, sounds like work. Maybe not.))
As always, any and all comments welcome... And thanks to my editor for catching as many of my many, many mistakes as he could - Typo Cop!
A Friendly Chat
“You need to get laid.”
This came from Officer Kirby, one of my teammates in the Daybreak patrol.
After laying my entire life story out to a certain redheaded Crey Field Officer I had found myself restless and uneasy and needing to figure out just what kind of jam I was actually getting myself into. As much as I tried to figure it out myself, my mind just didn’t seem to wrap itself around the answer. Too personally involved, perhaps; maybe I was too wound up by my own fears and desires; or, possibly, I just wasn’t bright enough.
“Excuse me?” I asked. His statement certainly wasn’t the reaction I expected from him. Officer Kirby, out of his Daybreaker Armor, appeared to be a middle aged stereotypical tough as nails, walk the straight and narrow kind of cop. Half of me had expected him to read me the riot act over my little salvage operation after the Freakshow incident and the other half expected him to just flat-out arrest me for tampering with evidence.
Yet some small part of me believed there was more to him than a black-and-white, good and bad, follow the letter of the law police officer. I certainly believed those were elements of his nature but something told me he had enough years and experience to see beyond that as well. I could have been totally wrong, of course. Half and half doesn’t leave any left over for “a small part” to have another view. Maybe I wasn’t bright enough after all.
“You heard me,” Officer Kirby answered as he sat across the table from me and continued to give me the cop stare he had been giving me throughout my story.
“What does that have to do with…?”
“It’s got everything to do with it,” he interrupted even as he tore into a glazed donut. “Seems to me this whole mess stems from twenty years ago when you made some stupid vow to your dead girlfriend.”
“Fiancé,” I corrected but he just brushed it away with the wave of one donut-filled hand.
“Ever since you woke up in that hospital with her dead and half your body replaced with metal you’ve had your life on hold and your head shoved somewhere anatomically impossible,” Kirby continued. “What have you done since then with your life? Have you done one thing that wasn’t overshadowed by the attack in the mall?”
“I… I...” I didn’t know what to say. Of course I realized that I spent years wishing I had a way to seek revenge and little else. I realized that I jumped at the Crey opportunity because I believed it may give me that chance. I realized I was little more than a hermit who had cut himself off from as much social interaction as possible in order to have more time to scheme and plot (most fruitlessly, to boot), but realizing something in your own head and having it shoved into your face are two entirely different things.
“My fiancé was slaughtered right before my eyes! She was carrying our child and some monster just blew her away without a second thought. I lost an arm, a leg, a hand, an eye and my doctors only know how much of my guts. I should be dead as well, for chrissakes.” When you have no answer to the question posed you may as well go on the offensive.
“Get over it,” Kirby said, totally unfazed by my outburst.
“What?” I all but screamed incredulously.
“Get over it,” Kirby said, calm as ever. “It was twenty years ago. Time’s long past when you should have come to some kind of acceptance and moved on with your life.”
“Acceptance?” I asked, starting to get angry. “You want me to just accept that my fiancé was murdered? My unborn child, slaughtered? You want me to accept the fact that I have been irrevocably maimed - turned into some half metal grotesquerie of a man? I should just accept that?”
“Years ago,” Kirby answered and took a swig of his coffee.
“Sit your butt back into that chair before I use it as a planter for my foot!” Officer Kirby growled as I angrily started to stand up. Whether I intended to storm out or to storm into him I hadn’t been sure. Hearing the growl in his voice, seeing the way he made the threat so calmly and seemingly without a doubt he could pull it off, I wavered a bit in my righteous anger and decided not to put it to a test.
“You came to me for advice, Michaels. I sat here and listened to your story and now you can sit there and listen to that advice. After I’ve said my piece, you can ignore it if you want. Think on it, if you’d like. Hell, laugh about it and do a polka all the way to the local bar for all I care. But first I’m going to lay a few facts out on the table. Facts you need to hear. Facts someone should have laid out for you years ago. You are going to listen to these facts and afterwards the life you lead is up to you - just as always; but at the very least, you won’t be able to claim ignorance caused your piss-poor decisions.”
I wanted to shove my cybernetic fist through Officer Kirby’s face at that point. I came to him for advice, not a lecture. I certainly didn’t come to him to be treated like a wayward teenager needing some hard life lesson to be explained to him. Toss into the mix the way he had dismissed the fact my fiancé had been murdered and had waved away my injuries and I felt I had every excuse I needed to just walk out the door.
Still, he was right about one thing. I had come to him for advice. I did owe it to him to listen to it, no matter how distastefully he delivered it. I could always punch him afterwards if need be.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “Say your piece.”
“Fine,” Kirby replied and continued to stare at me for several long moments. Finally he took a deep breath and seemed to relax his posture and his attitude. Rising from the table he pushed the box of donuts towards me. “You brought them, may as well eat as you listen,” he said and then grabbed the coffee pot and refilled both our mugs.
“I’m going to tackle the most painful part first. Far as I can figure, it’s the only way to do it. Not only is it better to yank the band aid off quickly and get it over with, but I think the rest of your mess stems from the way you have your head screwed all up over that incident in the mall - over your fiancé’s murder,” Kirby said slowly and softly, trying to ease into it.
“Her name was Wendy, right?”
“Wendy… yes,” I answered cautiously.
“A true Wendy or was it short from Gwendolyn or something?”
“Just Wendy,” I answered a bit smartly. “Her mother was a big Peter Pan fan. What of it?”
“Just curious is all. From what you told me of her she sounded like a good person. A caring person.”
“She was,” I answered, my thoughts slipping back to her.
“Big on revenge, was she?” Kirby asked after letting me drift on my thoughts for a few moments. “An eye for an eye kind of gal?”
“What? No,” I said, being pulled away from images of the time I had spent with her. “She was one of the kindest, gentlest people I ever met.”
“A nurse? A healer?”
“Exactly.”
“So you’re out to honor her memory by vowing revenge?” Kirby asked in a moderate tone.
I tried to think about it before I answered but the thinking wasn’t coming easily.
“When you put it like that it sounds… I don’t know…” I trailed off, not wanting to complete the thought.
“Stupid?” Kirby prompted.
I took a slow, deep breathe and finally let it out in a sigh. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“Idiotic?”
I nodded. “That too.”
“Selfish?” he continued pressing.
“Ok, ok. I get it. Point taken.”
“I hope so,” Kirby said with compassion in his voice rather than the smugness I half expected.
“Let’s keep pressing on while we have some momentum,” Kirby added before the silence could gain too much weight. “Next, you awoke a changed man - half metal. Crey Corp., in an act of corporate generosity, used their latest technology to save you ; seemingly pulling you back from the brink of death, right?”
“Yeah. I told you that part.” I slumped back into my chair having found my earlier anger had evaporated. “What of it?”
“You’ve been in this life for a while now. You’ve heard the scuttlebutt; the rumors and innuendo. Do you still believe Crey Corp. does anything out of generosity? Altruistically?” Kirby asked.
I sat there with a sense of dread building inside of me and just looked at him.
“What? Altruistically? It means…”
“I know what it means,” I said. “I’m not dumb. I’ve wondered about Crey Corp. before now. About why they saved me. About the years of follow up care all provided free of charge. Not even hitting up my insurance. About why I was chosen to pilot their armor – they had to have more qualified and experienced people, didn’t they? About whether or not it was coincidence that the implants and cybernetics they outfitted me with twenty years ago are so compatible with their Powered Armor of today…”
Officer Kirby been nodding along as I spoke. “All good questions,” he said and then took a sip of his coffee. “Come up with any answers?”
“Seems I’m better at coming up with questions than answers,” I admitted and got up out of my chair. I aimlessly walked around the kitchen area of our teams base of operations for a bit before finally grabbing an orange out of the bowl of fruit someone had set up – one of the girls, probably. Tac-Officer Hoplite or Officer Justice. Justice, I decided. Hoppy seemed more the nightlife kind of gal whereas Justice definitely had a mothering instinct about her.
“Well, did you ever think about the fact Crey does nothing without an agenda?” Kirby asked. “Ever think that perhaps they were setting you up to wear that suit, or something like it, since the very day they saved your life? Crey is one organization that definitely thinks long term… Big picture. Now I’m not saying that Crey turned that Malfearance character loose and aimed him at you, not that I would put it past them, but I can easily see them laying in wait for someone to become available to them who fit their needs. Someone they could tinker with and experiment on. Someone at rock bottom who they could slowly build back up the way they wanted to for whatever scheme of theirs they happened to have going at the time… Ever think of that?”
“I think about it,” I said distractedly, paying more attention to my metal fingers peeling the orange than to my words. “I think about it a lot. I think about lots of things a lot. It’s just… my thoughts… they just never seem to get anywhere. I think and I think and I think but the conclusions just never come. It’s frustrating. Damned frustrating. All that damned thinking just makes me want to….”
I eventually noticed the silence and turned to Officer Kirby. He was still sitting at the table with his cup of coffee in his hands but his expression seemed troubled and he wasn’t looking me in the eye anymore. He was looking at my hands. My hands which were dripping with pulp and juice from the orange I had torn into a thousand different pieces. Seems I forgot to stop peeling the thing when it ran out of peel. Seems I forgot in quite an aggressive manner.
“Huh,” I said, quite intelligently. “Well, guess I’ll clean this up.” I started grabbing paper towels from the roll and focusing on that task rather than the conversation we’d been having.
“Makes you want to do what?” Officer Kirby said, getting up and bringing the trash can over so I could have somewhere to throw my mess.
“Hmm?” I asked as if I didn’t follow.
“All that damned thinking just makes you want to do what?” he said patiently.
I continued to clean up the mess and Kirby just stood right there holding the trash can for me and awaiting an answer. His patience and stoicism could really be annoying.
“Not go out and kill puppies or anything. Christ!” I finally answered, annoyed at the silence. “I get aggravated. I get annoyed. I get frustrated. Whatever! It makes me want to just put on the suit and go, is all and…”
“Go fight crime?” Kirby asked. “Go and beat up some criminals?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“No!” I said, correcting myself immediately.
“It’s not like that. It’s not about fighting crime. And it’s certainly not about beating up criminals,” I tried to explain. “It’s about the suit itself. Just deciding to put it on helps calm my head. The process of it… The stripping down, the precise order in which each piece must be put on, the checking and rechecking of each connection… There’s an almost Zen like quality to the process, you know what I mean? It’s calming. Relaxing.”
“Being in the suit itself… don’t you feel this way too? It’s a sense of… man, I can hardly describe it. There’s a rightness to being inside the suit. It fills the gnawing hole in my belly and makes me complete; or least ways as near to complete as I ever feel anymore. My head gets all garbles up with thoughts and questions and memories and junk and I just cannot relax until I slip into the armor,” I said. “Isn’t it that way for you? For all of us?”
Officer Kirby had at some point set down the trash can and leaned back against the counter. His eyes were still on me but the hardness had left them, in their place their seemed to be only concern.
“No,” he said. “It’s not like that for me at all. My armor is nothing more than a symbol and tool used to do my job. Just like my normal police uniform and revolver.”
“So you never need that fix of just being inside it? That calming rush it brings?” I asked, bewildered.
Officer Kirby narrowed his eyes. “You a junkie, Michaels?”
“What? Screw you!” I answered, shocked.
“I’m serious,” Kirby said.
“The hardest thing I’ve ever touch is beer,” I snarled at him. “The occasional shot of whiskey, maybe. I didn’t even experiment as a kid, for chrissakes.”
“It’s not drugs I’m asking about, Michaels. It’s the suit. Are you addicted to the suit?”
“What?” I asked incredulously. “That… That doesn’t even make sense!”
“I wouldn’t have thought so yesterday but now I’m not so sure…” Kirby said before trailing off into thought for a moment.
“Look, I’m not some dirt bag junkie. It’s not like I really need to…” I started.
“Shhhh, give me a second,” Kirby said in a distracted manner. “Let me just… OK, I’m going to think out loud here, interrupt me if I get anything wrong.”
“Way back when, Crey Corp. saved you from the brink of death using methods and technologies only they know. They replaced several of your organs and fixed others. Not through transplants though, right? Some kind of technological process?”
I nodded. “They don’t really go into details but my sense was some things were replaced and others… Modified?”
“Not the kind of thing you hear about going on in modern hospitals though, is it? Twenty year old cutting edge technology is usually every day crap by now, isn’t it? So why isn’t yours?” Kirby asked, not really wanting an answer. “They’ve been your only doctors since then, I assume?”
“They said a normal physician wouldn’t understand the differences.”
“Of course, of course,” Kirby said, waving a hand to show he got the gist or it. “I’d guess your visits to their doctors got more frequent in the year or so before they recruited you for the Daybreaker program…”
“Now that you mention it,” I said.
“And these days?”
“Three times a week. One a couple hours after each of our routine patrols plus one in between.”
“And meds?” Kirby asked. “How often they have you taken pills?”
“No pills,” I answered. “I get a couple injections each time they visit but they say those are for…”
“Doesn’t matter what they say they’re for,” Kirby interrupted. “What does matter is what they’re really for.”
“You think they’re drugging me?” I asked, shocked. Of course I knew all the rumors about Crey by now but still…
“They are drugging you, only questions are with what and why,” Kirby answered.
“Look, Michaels. Those people did something to you. Something big. They have bits and pieces of machinery and programming and God knows what else inside more parts of you than you can name. They always shot you up with drugs but now that you’re wearing the armor it’s a lot more frequent. Also now that you’re wearing the armor you need to wear the armor…”
“I wouldn’t say need to,” I said defensively.
“No? You did earlier. The word itself plus in about ten other ways. Describing it you sounded like a junkie describing why they need a fix. The more you talked about it the more agitated you got, the more jittery - like a junkie. It’s hard not to wonder if that isn’t part of what they did to you, Michaels.”
“So now I’m a junkie and I never even realized it? I asked.
“You’ve picked superadine addicts off the street,” Kirby replied. “Any of them ever think they were junkies?”
I so didn’t want to be dealing with this anymore. I was sick of this whole conversation since at least half an hour ago. I couldn’t think about it anymore. It was all too confusing and too annoying and all I really wanted to do was to climb into my armor and… and get away from it all.
It occurred to me that I’d been having those kinds of thoughts a lot recently - more and more I’d been having them.
“You really think they’re messing with me?” I asked with my eyes squeezed tight and my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose as I tried to concentrate on a single train of thought.
“I do,” Officer Kirby said solemnly.
“Why?” I asked. “Not only why, but for what reason?”
“If I could figure that, out I’d be in the FBI,” Kirby answered. “What I guess is that they had some scheme in the works and when the mall thing happened they noticed you and you fit into their scheme. Don’t ask me why or how, I have no idea. I figure they did their surgeries and experiments back then and they followed your progress through the years. It was easy since you had to go to them for all your medical needs.”
“When this Daybreaker Program fell into their lap, I’m guessing they saw a way to accelerate their program. Or maybe just test it. Anyway, they had a suit all ready to go and coincidentally it fit you almost to a T,” Kirby continued. “Seems to me they got you messed up and they kept you that way. Given their history, I would think deliberately. It kept you from straightening out your life, putting it back together. It kept you from asking pesky questions such as what they were doing to you and why. Do you really think, in your right mind, you wouldn’t have demanded to know what bits and pieces of you they replaced? What they replaced them with? And why? You have any explanation for not demanding those answers?”
I didn’t.
The room was still and silent for a long time. I didn’t think about the things we had been discussing so much as just let them settle in.
At some point a kernel of knowledge seemed to open up inside of me. A kernel that said I was no longer myself. That I was different than I should be. Than I wanted to be. This wasn’t about a mechanical leg or a couple of robotic arms but rather an inner difference. I had lost myself and there was no doubting when I had done that. The question was, could I find myself again?
“I want it out,” I said in a whisper. “I want it all out.”
“Hold on there now,” Kirby said, talking a step towards me.
“Seriously, I need it out. I need these alien bits and pieces taken out of me. I need to be myself again!” I could hear the panic in my own voice.
“Relax, Michaels. Calm down,” Kirby was saying in a relaxing manner as he came up to me and took my shoulders in his hands and steadily leading me over to a chair. “We’ll get them out of you once we find out exactly what they are and what they’re doing to you?”
“How we going to do that? Can’t very well just ask them, can we?”
“No. That probably wouldn’t be the smartest thing at this point,” Kirby agreed. “We’ll ask Derrick instead.”
“That kid? The one who worked on our base?” I asked in confusion.
“That kid is my cousin and he didn’t work on this base, he designed it. Top to bottom. From the computer systems to the teleporter. He may be just seventeen but I guarantee that kid is smarter than anyone the Crey Corporation has working for them.”
Kaemgen's journal just totally went the wrong way and will be retconed once my inspiration for him gets back on track... Meanwhile I'm much prefering to write about Daybreaker Alpha...
Quick background to the Daybreak Patrol:
The Daybreak Patrol is the brainchild of Meg Mason, a civilian under contract to with the Paragon Police Department. Noticing a distanct lack of superpowered volunteers during the early morning hours, and impatient at the best of time, Mason proposed the concept of a new task force of Powered Armor Cops dedicated to patroling the streets, skies and sewers of Paragon during the wee hours of the morning.
Chief Conrad Bochco saw the need for beefed up patrols during these dangerous hours but knew he lacked the funding, the manpower and the equipment to do anything about it. Brainstorming with Mason, they came up with the idea of forcing volunteers to come forward through potential future monetary incentive.
Chief Bochco opened bidding for the design and manufacture of PPD's next model of Powered Armor. Specifications required that the new armor be versatile, adaptable and upgradeable so as not to become obsolete. The bids, as expected, poured in from all corners of the globe from companies looking not only to get a piece of the lucrative contact and the prestige of defending Paragon City but also for the chance to experiment with their latest designs. Aeon Copr, Crey Industries, Hero Corps, Lockhart Aerotech, Portal Corp and a plethora of lesser and unkown companies and individuals submitted bids.
In truth, there was little funding for such an upgrade of the cities beleagured police force but Chief Bocho knew that with such intense competition to land the fictional contract, he could push the companies even further. To be considered for the contact, Chief Bochco required that each company supplied the PPD with a field ready prototype of the design as well as an operator of the armor.
With this demand, many companies dropped out of the bidding war but those that remained provided the PPD with both more fire and manpower, both free of charge. Chief Bochco knew he wouldn't be able to keep this sham running forever but in the meantime he would be able to make the city that much safer...
The prototypes varied greatly in design, style and capabilities. The most common resembled PPD's current Shell, Hardsuit and Assault designs but a few went a step further than the typical armored suit to include implants, bionics and robotics and nanotechnology. Chief Bochco knew a few of the designs would never be accepted in a million years due to the radical procedures they would require his officers to undergo but in order to clean up the streets of Paragon City he had no hesitation in taking advantage of those who already had volunteered and had it done.
On July 8, 2009 the first eight of these company supplied volunteers were deputized and organized into the first squad of the Daybreak Patrol. This alpha squad was tasked with putting the prototypes through their paces under actual conditions, to stretch their abilities to the limit to see which would break down and which should be given due consideration. To this end the Daybreak Patrol was given the freedom to act independantly of the PPD power structure and answer only to Chief Bochco himself. In truth, the police chief was eager to limit their contact with the PPD for fear that the lack of funding to actually order any of these high tech units would become known to the deputized, company paid operators.
On July 14, 2009 the Daybreak Patrol first hit the streets of Paragon City... The success or failure of the prototypes, as well as how long Chief Bochco can continue swindling the various companies into supplying these armors, has not yet been determined.