Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (29/?) (Patreon)

The rest of my tour around the manufactorium was just one big test of my ability to keep my personal desires at bay with my adherence to my professional duty. We’d walked, ducked, weaved, and meandered our way through much of the line, and throughout it all, I wanted nothing more than to describe in vivid detail all of Earth’s industrial accomplishments to Sorecar.

But that would’ve been way too much, and much too early.

And whilst I knew and appreciated that the guy had gone through the effort of skirting around a few rules to show me around his prized factory, the fact remained that he was still part of the faculty.

What’s more, there was still the fact that he was somehow bound to the place in one way or another.

There would be time for us to build up our trust, and more hoops and bounds to go through to see just how far I could really entrust him with knowledge on Earth and its industries. Until then, I’d have to maintain some level of discretion. At least, as far as it went with regards to anything explicitly outside of the scope of the weapons inspection.

“And phew! That just about wraps it up! I apologize for the steps Emma Booker, I can’t imagine how much of a physical workout that must be to get up all of these flights of stairs. I mean, I sincerely cannot imagine it, as my memories of a time when I still had lungs to gasp and wheeze with are quite vague and rather fuzzy.” Sorecar spoke without even a hint of exhaustion as we crested the top of the spiral staircase and back into the workshop proper.

“It’s alright, Sorecar. My cardio game is still on point.” I managed out with a few huffed breaths. The suit did help a fair bit, but given the fact that we were close to entering the early hours of the morning, the exhaustion really was starting to get to me.

I began instinctively leaning into and against the insides of the suit again. Using certain nooks and ergonomically placed notches to reposition myself, giving me the sensation of tossing and turning in a particularly tight, rigid sleepsack.

To an outside observer, the armor would remain at its ‘default’ position, standing perfectly still, with both arms rigidly by its side.

Inside, however, I was using this rigidity to my advantage as I began slouching inside of the suit. It was a ‘trick’ that had started out in the early days of power armor, before making its way into unofficial field manuals, then finally becoming entirely official when the requisitions department caught on and requested that all future models be made with these design features in mind; features which allowed for in-armor positional reorientation.

“Your fitness regimen certainly is something to be admired.” The armorer responded candidly.

So that’s what the EVI translated ‘cardio game’ into. Thanks EVI. I quickly thought to myself with a mental chuckle.

“I mean, I’ve seen my fair share of staff and students alike struggling to get past two flights of stairs, and here you are, standing as still as a statue even after the whole ordeal!” The armorer boomed out, before shifting his helmet’s ‘gaze’ towards the collection of pouches that lined my waist, and the holster that kept the star of tonight’s show safe and tucked away. “Seeing that I’ve taken up so much of the time that you could’ve used to rest and recuperate, I believe it’s only fair that we get this formality out of the way as quickly as possible.” The man offered with a friendly tune to his voice.

I let out a deep breath of relief, as we finally reached the original purpose of my visit here in the first place.

It was supposed to be a quick in and out mission.

Yet it somehow evolved into a hearts and minds operation, before developing into an unintended info-gathering side mission that I was going to have a joy writing up when I got the rest of my tent and the dreaded field computer set up.

“You have my back when it comes to the bulk of the observation notes, don’t you, EVI?” I spoke inside my helmet, practically pleading now as I realized the sheer magnitude of the report that was about to dominate my life.

“I am unable to provide a definitive answer due to the nature of the question’s open-ended parameters, Cadet Booker.”

“And that’s why they don’t call you a virtual assistant.” I mumbled under my breath.

My attention quickly turned back to Sorecar, as I shifted from my in-armor positional reorientation mode and back into workmode. “Of course.” I answered with an affirmative nod. “So, is there a specific way you’d like me to start or a certain set of parameters you’d like to touch on when it comes to this?” I purposefully asked, because whilst Thalmin had given me the brief rundown of what he’d experienced with Sorecar, I wanted to know what the man’s current expectations were.

All of this was to determine just how much and how far I was going to go about discussing the ‘ceremonial weapon’.

“Well, there’s not much to it to be quite frank. All I really need to hear is a general description of the weapon, its name, its maker if you know of them. I know some nobles simply own legendary weapons without so much as giving the people responsible for them a second thought.” The man huffed out, before moving on just as quickly upon realizing he’d inadvertently sprung up another tangent. “In any case, I need to know what kind of weapon it is, what it’s supposed to do, and…” He began trailing off, before shrugging. “Your weapon is mana-less correct?”

“That is correct.” I nodded once for effect.

“Then I don’t really see much else we can discuss. Normally I’d inquire further, to determine just how a weapon functions along with all of its internal mechanisms, however given the fact that your weapon is of a mana-less variety everything should be quite straightforward. There really shouldn’t be much more than what can be discerned with the naked eye in this particular case.” Sorecar spoke with a certain level of impartiality. Not so much talking down at the idea of a mana-less weapon, but not quite excited for it either. Which I could easily tell, given how this came just hot off the heels of the rollercoaster ride of excitement that he had when displaying his own lineup of toys. “Though to be fair, Emma Booker, even when I do ask for a detailed explanation of the inner mechanisms behind a particularly interesting enchanted weapon, most students just end up unable to answer anyways. Most are here to learn after all, so I don’t really hold it against them.” He raised a single hand, towards my holster. “So please, proceed.”

I didn’t need any more prompting as my hand glided towards the magnetic holster, this time without flinching.

I smiled a little bit at that, as it meant that I hadn’t yet lost it after a single battle.

I pulled out the pistol with little hesitation, in fact, I was filled with an intense thrill of excitement that was once again only tempered by the realization that I had to keep the details vague, but accurate enough to satisfy the armorer.

It would be a balancing act that was much trickier to pull off when compared to the conversation earlier in the night with Thacea and Thalmin, as in that situation all I really had to deal with was the issues that came with fundamental systemic incongruency.

It was a whole other ballgame with the armorer, as I had to balance that, alongside discretion.

“We call this particular type of weapon a pistol.” I began in earnest, as I held out the sleek, timeless design of one of the last tried and proven chemical-based kinetic weapons out for the armorer to see. The weapon looked just about right in my hands, not comically small as most pistols were prone to be in the hands of a power armor user, but not overly large that it would be classified as a weapon exclusive to exoskeleton-frame use. With the grip angled at a sleek 18 degrees, positioned nearly square to the slide, most likened its general appearance to another timeless classic that practically defined the birth of the semi-automatic pistol. In fact, it was quite fitting that both guns were aesthetically similar, as both had service lives which practically mirrored one another. Namely: both refused to see an official end to their service lives in their own respective eras. “The name of this particular pistol is the GSP-225c, originating from a forge known as the Luna Defense Arms, a name widely known and well regarded within our realm. As for the maker of this weapon?”

They’re both dead, and have been dead for nearly five centuries now.

“Well, makers in this case. I believe it was a joint venture between a certain Dr. Alisson Cooper and a Dr. Richard Li.” I continued truthfully for now, at least satisfying Sorecar’s clear bias towards respecting the craftsmen behind the craft.

The armorer’s whole helmet had perked up with interest the moment I pulled the pistol out from its holster. He’d been taking small, calculated steps towards me as I started my little spiel, and was now all but mere inches away from my face, as I assume his gaze was now fully transfixed on the gun I held in my hands.

“I’ve never seen a design quite this unique.” The man spoke earnestly, his interest clearly piqued. “I will be honest, Emma Booker, from the looks of your holster I’d assumed the weapon to be a simple blade or perhaps even a strangely shaped portable axe, or even a club. The design of this… pistol is most certainly exotic. You have my attention, so please, proceed.” The man urged.

I didn’t need much prompting as I moved onto the next point. As we finally got out of the superficial fluff and into the meat of things. Which meant things were about to get complicated.

“As for the kind of weapon this is?” I began, continuing off of the armorer’s short grocery list of requirements to tick off. “I believe the most apt way to describe it would be ranged.” I stated simply, which seemed to irk Sorecar even more as he cocked his head from side to side with an even greater sense of befuddlement.

“Ranged?” He parotted back, before shifting his whole body, kneeling down, swaying this way and that, as if to get as many closeups as he could of the weapon I held comfortably in my gloved hands. “But I see no drawstrings, no visible apparatuses for charging and firing a projectile. At least not without mana. I- oh!” The man halted mid-sentence, punctuating the ‘eureka’ moment with a resonant metallic clang as both of his hands clapped together with a renewed vigor.

“I figured it out!” He spoke with an unwavering level of confidence that took me completely by surprise.

Wait what? Did he actually figure it out? Perhaps the Nexus did have a history of firearms at one point or another, but it just never really caught on? Maybe it was a developmental dead-end, where magic weapons could outpace the growing pains of actually going through the decades and centuries of grueling, dangerous, refinement? Sorecar was five thousand years old after all, maybe he’d seen it, or perhaps heard of it at one point or another?

I held my breath, eagerly awaiting the man’s conclusion that would come to redefine just what the Nexus was capable of.

“It’s a boomerang, isn’t it?” The man practically beamed out.

I almost dropped my fucking gun as I heard that.

As it felt like all of the buildup, all of the tension, everything had been defused and deflated with a dull pathetic whimper.

“A boomerang?” I uttered back in disbelief, at the man who was now back to standing at full height with both of his hands straddling his hips in a display of unbridled certainty.

“Yes! A boomerang, one of those one-handed ranged and reusable throwing weapons that doesn’t require mana to function or to even return back to its user! Quite an ingenious design! And most certainly something I have logged in the long repertoire of weapons I have stored away in here.” He tapped the side of his helmet where his brain should’ve been.

I took a moment to compose myself. My mind was going blank, unable to really process what I’d just heard.

Was he serious?

I started to feel the tell-tale signs of unrestrained laughter starting to tickle my insides. As I couldn’t help but to all but break down at the mental image of a gun being used as a fucking boomerang.

In fact, I just had to see it now.

“EVI, could you please predict and visualize the trajectory of the 225 if we were to throw it like a boomerang?”

“... parsing request… query: what is the purpose of this request for memory allocation for the intended simulation?”

“Just curiosity is all.” I could barely contain my laughter now as I made doubly sure that I wasn’t broadcasting this via the vocoders.

“I am unable to comply with this request, Emma Booker. I have deemed it superfluous and an inappropriate use of limited processing power.”

I sighed out in despair, shooing the EVI away with a flick of my eyeballs, before shifting my gaze back towards a clearly excitable Sorecar, who looked as if he was just waiting for me to confirm his suspicions.

Which I just couldn’t bring myself to doing, even if I wanted to play this whole thing off vaguely.

“I’m afraid it’s not a boomerang, Sorecar.” I managed out in between a nervous cough.

“Oh? But you did say it was ranged, and with the way this pistol is curved in two distinct sections, with no visible projectiles to speak of, I’d assumed that the entire form itself is a weapon.” The man spoke with an affable honesty that I just felt bad shooting down.

“I can see where you’re coming from.” I started, willing to meet half way with that line of logic. “And I can definitely understand how you came to that conclusion, if we were to look at it purely from an aesthetics point of view. However, I’m afraid that the actual operating mechanisms behind this weapon are all on the inside. This includes the projectiles, the charging and firing mechanisms, and everything else.” I managed out carefully, making sure to reuse and repeat his own terminologies whenever and wherever possible.

The armorer’s body language shifted at that answer. He didn’t immediately address it, which given the man’s track record of speaking as soon as anything came to mind, meant that he was actually giving it some serious thought.

“Internal mechanisms, of a mana-less variety, inside of a box that size?” He shot back, not so much in disbelief, but with a clear degree of skepticism.

“Correct. Though the specifics of it are rather long-winded.” I attempted to carefully skirt past the concept of gunpowder for the sake of ensuring that little nugget of knowledge wasn’t let loose on a whim. “And of course, certain aspects of it allude me, as many of the finer details of legendary weapons are indeed kept close and under guard to the smiths that have forged them.” I attempted to keep my tone as level as possible, tensing tight as I could feel the spirits of both Doctors Cooper and Li practically slapping me upside the back of my head for calling them smiths. “Though what I can say, from what I do know, is that the weapon houses a number of projectiles housed in a section close to the handle.” I began pointing as I spoke. “And it shoots these projectiles down and through its barrel, then, towards its target.” I continued moving my finger across the gun, highlighting the brief journey a bullet took through the gun.

The armorer’s response was once again, one of genuine interest and intrigue as he carefully stroked his nonexistent beard with one hand, whilst keeping the other firmly by his side.

“Quite a novelty indeed.” The man began cautiously. “Emma Booker, would you mind if I casted a detection spell on that weapon?”

I flinched nervously, the request catching me by complete surprise. “What would that entail?” I snapped back almost immediately.

“Nothing that would dishonor the unspoken pact between weaponsmiths, I assure you.” Sorecar spoke with a level of firmness. “I understand the anxiety and concern, but unlike a great deal of disreputable swindlers out in the Adjacent Townships, I merely wish to cast a spell of detection, and not a spell of deep-insight.”

I cocked my head to the side, readying a question that was answered before it could even be voiced.

“To clarify, Emma Booker, the former is merely meant to detect the general composition of an object in relation to its mana-field and the environmental mana, whilst the latter is meant to pierce deep into an object, able to discern the individual strands of organic cores and their different intertwining mechanisms.” The man explained further, as I took a few seconds to carefully regard this unexpected development.

“Fine.” I stated simply, holding out the gun as the man moved his hands around it slowly, and methodically.

This was, expectedly, followed up by a sudden uptick in mana radiation.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

But not to the degree of most of the ‘spells’ he’d casted so far.

“Strange.” The man spoke absentmindedly. “Remarkably strange.” He continued, his helmet cocking to the side once more as he seemed to be trying his best to get to whatever conclusion he was working up towards. “It’s as dull as a peasant’s kitchen knife.” He paused once more, before halting whatever it was he was doing with those hands, getting up close and personal, practically coming into contact with the gun with the brim of his helmet.

An intrusive thought urged me to push the whole thing into the open and empty visor that was his eyes.

Thankfully I didn’t listen to it.

“Yet it’s as masterfully crafted and meticulously detailed as a dagger from a crown-manufactorium.” He added paradoxically.

“I’m not following.” I stated plainly.

“The lack of mana, Emma Booker. The lack of any discernible mana, puts me in mind of a common peasant’s tool rack. Yet the attention to detail places it amongst the many showpieces you would see within the home of a crownlands’ nobleman. I am at great odds with the… peculiarities of what you currently hold in your hands.” The man admitted.

“When you have no mana to work with, you push for innovation in other fields, Sorecar.” I stated plainly, and with little in the way of (presumptiveness). “Earthrealm, and humanity, has never sat idly by, allowing our limitations to define us. Instead, we push past those limitations through innovation, and we do the best we can with what we have. And in doing so, we’re able to accomplish a great many things.” I continued, before shifting to end my little vague explanation. “You can say we traversed the road less taken.”

“Indeed… and dare I say it, you’ve traversed it well for a mana-less peoples.” Sorecar openly admitted. “With that being said, I find no issue in granting your ceremonial weapon a certification of approval for carry and personal protection within the castle grounds, and beyond it.” The man concluded suddenly and without warning.

Which prompted me to do a complete double take, staring blankly at the man in disbelief.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. The purpose of the weapons inspection is to assess the danger of the ceremonial weapons brought over from adjacent realms. With this being a mana-less weapon, even if it is well crafted, and even if it is ranged, I find it to be no more dangerous than the legendary weapons brought over by the likes of your typical adjacent nobleman.” Sorecar nodded firmly. “I am speaking in my capacity as the school’s armorer, Emma Booker.” The man quickly added, as something else clearly felt… off about the whole exchange.

His tone, his general disposition, everything seemed to have taken a massive shift from the excitable and genuinely curious armorer somewhere along the inspection.

But with the mark of approval, and with his clear insistence that what’s done is done, I couldn’t help but to feel both a general sense of unease, but also relief at the fact that the matter of the gun’s capabilities were still well and truly a matter kept close within my immediate circle.

“Thank you?” I managed out awkwardly, looking around nervously now as the sudden and abrupt end to this was still just entirely unexpected.

“No, thank you, Emma Booker. For being such an open and forthright soul.” He once more spoke earnestly, but with an unexpected curtness in his voice. “Now, I think it’s best that you-”

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 410% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

An alarm sounded, drowning out the world around me as it was followed up by yet another, more gut-churning notification.

WARNING: [1] UNKNOWN TARGET DETECTED.

My whole body froze, my field of view felt like it’d just completely lost track of the armorer in front of me, as both my pupils were now squarely focused on the image being relayed by my rear-facing camera at the top of my HUD.

TARGET REFERENCE: 40 FEET FROM CURRENT LOCATION. HIGHLIGHTING TARGET NOW.

A third warning hit me in the span of barely a quarter of a second, as the outlines of a creature manifested in just about the same time, and another textbox soon found itself superimposed on top of that.

TARGET REFERENCE CONFIRMED: 92.1% SUPERFICIAL LIKENESS TO CLASSIFICATION ‘NULL’.

The automatic IFF systems reported, completing the perfect storm of alarms that I never thought would return this quickly.

The whole world slowed to a crawl, and all I could hear at this point were the dull, echoey, thump thump thumps of my heartbeat, pulsating inside of my eardrums.

I heard nothing else through the peak of adrenaline, with the only thing breaking through that haze being the sharp, shrill, digitally-synthesized alarms that were designed to break through this sort of thing.

I didn’t want to look at the thing.

I didn’t want to even think about its sickly, gray, pulsating membrane that shifted to and fro with every movement it made.

The whole world receded now, as I turned around, back towards the armorer, and eyes front and center towards the literal object of my nightmares. The monster that refused to fucking die.

“Emma!” I heard the armorer’s voice shrieking out… or was it the apprentice’s? It felt like deja vu, a complete repeat of the late afternoon’s fight.

“Stand down!” I heard another fragment of a sentence. One that sent me back to the garden, and another voice that told me to do the exact same thing.

And how did that turn out?

Badly, with only a blood curdling crunch of bones to show for it.

I wasn’t going to let it happen again.

I raised my gun up to meet the static creature that began oozing throughout the workshop.

Not here.

Its tendrils began seeping into every workbench, its translucent gray flesh began devouring everything in its sight, coating it in that same sickly skin.

Not ever.

SINGLE / SEMI / [FULL-AUTO]

This time, I couldn’t let it get away.

“-Booker, stop!”

It had to die.

BRRRRRRT.

All 25 rounds of my fresh magazine left the barrel before I even felt the recoil, and even then, the armor had compensated for it, refusing to deviate by even a quarter of a quarter of an inch.

But this wasn’t the garden, and the evidence of this was the fact that the null had simply vanished from view.

All of the alarms went yellow, error codes rang out, as every single system began desperately searching for the target that hadn’t just collapsed, hadn’t melted away anywhere, but had simply… vanished.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

A series of loud clangs soon followed, as every door, window, and hole in the room was closed shut and subsequently chained tight up by a series of metal bars that had appeared out of nowhere.

“Emma… what… what in the world is-.” The armorer stood there dumbfounded for a moment, his voice was shaky, as his helmet was once more completely transfixed by the still-smoking gun. “Emma, whatever you just did must have scared them. But they’re still here, so stay close to me.” His voice finally broke through my haze, as he walked up towards me and grabbed me tightly by the shoulder.

“Wait what? The n-, the creature, is it still here?!” I shouted, as I kept tapping at my wrist-mounted data-pad to restart and resume every scan I had available to me.

“No, but the foul trickster behind it still is.” The armorer responded, as he raised his hand, as if to scan the room using nothing but his palm.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 700% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

“Trickster? What are you talking about?”

“The beast you saw wasn’t an actual monster, or a threat. It was a light-projection. A good one at that, I’ll give them that, but a light projection all the same. Which means that the perpetrator behind this entire trick is still here, somewhere.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, as I quickly took the opportunity to reload just in case.

"The doors are locked." The man began, as he walked forward, making certain that every footfall was as loud and imposing as possible. "The windows are shut." He continued, grabbing hold of one of the enchanted weapons from earlier. "There's no way to teleport out of here. I do not take kindly to unwelcome visitors to my part of the castle." He began to taunt, running the end of the polearm against the newly formed bars on the windows, generating a series of rhythmic clinks not too dissimilar to a xylophone. "I know I can't flush you out using heat, but I can wait until you starve or thirst. So what'll it be?"