System Overclocked 2 -CH 1- (Patreon)

Striding out of the building, Wrench didn’t look back. He didn’t have the luxury of time, or patience. Both were in short supply at the moment and he needed to run down Stripe and Seventh.

Wherever they were, was likely going to be a problem until the Hab settled where they belonged in the hierarchy.

Or more accurately, which class of Hume claimed them.

Menders, Admini, and Fixers would be quickly picked up by their kind. Even Schools would quickly adopt lone School Hume if they fit their aesthetic.

Brawlers and Solos were left-overs that had to make their own groups.

That or be taken by an existing group as a member or property.

Shelters could run the range of awful to wonderful. All the stories he’d heard about the Roundess Love Hume-Shelter was that it was a living hell for most of it’s existence.

“Ah! Hello! You’re awake!” stated an excited voice.

Wrench glanced over at the speaker and found what was someone that looked far more likely to be a Fixer than anything else.

Given how he’d run up on Wrench though, he’d bet he was an Admini wanting to get his information.

He was about five foot nine, give or take an inch or three, stocky, with black hair and blue eyes. He seemed almost like he could blend into a crowd and not be an issue.

“Yeah,” Wrench mumbled and stopped dead in his track. “Upper Field. Which way? Any Brawler Guards by the way?”

Standing there in just the beige-dress-like-smock Wrench felt a bit breezy. He was thankful for the Pipe-Wrench in his hand.

“Upper-Upper field? That way,” said the man, pointing in a direction Wrench hadn’t been going. “You just go up the stairs. You’re currently in the middle which is just support. You have to come down this way from the Upper just to get here.

“As to Brawler Guards? No. Nothing like that. The Brawlers don’t come up out of the Lower Parts other than to make trouble. The Brawlers hired by the Upper Parts don’t stop them, they just warn everyone to run away.”

Wrench grunted at that, glanced toward what was likely a Duct entrance, then moved toward the stair. He couldn’t get in the Ducts right now even if he had access.

His implant wasn’t working after all.

“I’m TomTodd,” said the man. “Or just Tom. My parents came from… somewhere else and named me against what their Tongsta wanted.”

“Resistance, huh,” muttered Wrench, marching along. “Alright. Good to know. I might have some info for you later.”

TomTodd had a shocked face at that. His eyes rounding and his shoulders raising up. His reaction was as obvious as if he held up a sign that said “SYSTEM RESPONDS AFFIRMATIVE!” above his head.

“I-you-anyways. Anyways,” TomTodd rambled on. Wrench saw no reason to force the subject to continue.

“What do you want. Get to the point. I probably need to go kill people. The best self-defense is self-offense,” growled Wrench. He wasn’t feeling charitable right now despite the man not doing anything wrong. He was quite worried about Stripe.

“I need your information. Could you tell me about who you are and where you’re from?” asked TomTodd. “Your owner, information, where you came from. Things like that?”

“Wrench. Owner is… I don’t know her name. I call her Goodie. She’s a Nav-scerer on a military ship,” Wrench hissed, starting up the walkway toward the Upper Parts. “She got me from a local Hab in her family unit. They were going to feed me to a big lizard. Helped Goodie fix other Habs for status. I guess. Got Stripe. She’s my companion.

“Ended up winning a Hume championship later. Don’t know if that was local or not. Ship got attacked. Traded my winnings for Seventh. She’s my companion as well. You talk to either of them by the way?”

TomTodd was nodding his head up to this point then was shaking it.

“Whatever,” Wrench continued. “Shit blew up, couldn’t fix it. Goodie got hurt. Fixed her instead. She got carried off by a medical team. Shit blew up again. Ended up here. Probably picked up by a Tongsta retrieval team or something. Don’t know.

“Now I’m on my way to kill some people probably. People don’t learn till you fix them. Sometimes they survive the experience. Sometimes they don’t.

“Guess we’ll find out. Hey, I need a Pen by the way. Three people sized. Make it happen for me, would you? I’m a Fixer and I could probably handle this entire Hab by myself. Even without my implant working.”

TomTodd’s couldn’t have been any rounder given the way Wrench had punched right through to the heart of his backstory given his naming. Now he was pale, his lips thin and pressed together, as well as breathing in a bit rapidly.

Smirking, Wrench hefted his weapon and laid eyes on the Upper Field

It was more or less what he’d been expecting. A large and open green area for Hume to wander around in and stretch their legs. To socialize with other Hume and get “fresh air” as they called it.

Even if it wasn’t actually fresh.

Then again, I did find a Hab or two that let the air vent out right over the field. I guess that’d be the fresh.

Fresher.

Freshest?

There were a number of people wandering about. Lots of them involved in their own situations and people.

He knew what to look for though.

“And… there it is,” he mumbled, spotting the largest School in the field. If anyone knew what was going on, it was almost always the School Hume. In a School this big, those on the outside would watch and pay attention for anything abnormal.

Then they’d switch places with those on the interior after a time.

If something did happen, they’d rush to the center and start spreading it as a warning. Which was really just their way of gossiping.

That’d spread to other Schools if the news was big enough from there.

Putting the wrench behind his back, slapping on his best smile, he slowly, carefully, and without being quick, he approached the School.

It was filled with men and women both. Idly chatting, talking, moving through their own people. All of them concerned with School Hume things.

“Hello,” Wrench offered in a loud and warm voice. “Could I trouble your School for some help? I’m very new here, my first day really, and you all looked to be a successful and aware School.”

The entire outside line of the School was now staring at him where-as only a few had been eying him on his approach. In that moment, Wrench realized that TomTodd was gone. He was no longer beside him.

“You’re new?” asked one of the men in the School. He had brown hair and brown eyes and was young. The aesthetic of this school seemed to be of similar features.

“Very new. Being such a large and successful School, I was wondering if you perhaps have seen two Solos wandering around. They were brand new, just like I was. They were dismissed from the ward only today and were waiting here to go to the supply depot,” Wrench offered, still wearing the same smile he’d put on as he walked up. He kept his distance and made sure to speak calmly and without too much energy.

School Hume were skittish after all.

Standing there, Wrench knew that was all he had to do. They’d spread the question around, ask, and eventually it’d make it’s way back to the edge.

The man he’d been speaking to turned away from Wrench and had a young woman whisper in his ear while glancing at Wrench. Only to look back to him with a grimace.

“There was an attractive Solo, a young woman, that lingered too near to the edge of the Lower Parts skyway,” the man said. “She was grabbed by a Lower Parts supporter a few minutes ago and dragged away. Someone tried to help her but they were quickly grabbed as well. Both were unknown to us. I’m sorry.”

Wrench blinked, nodded his head, then pointed at what he assumed was said Skybridge.

“That right there?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Great. Thank you so much for your help. My name is Wrench. Please convey my thanks to your School,” he said then stepped away several paces from where he’d been. Once he was far enough away that he wouldn’t startle them he took off at a jog.

His beige medical gown flapped as he went, the wrench in his hand clattering with each step. Even Seventh would have problems with a horde of Brawlers dog-piling on her.

In a one-on-one fight she was a masterpiece of a Brawler. Against multiple people, she didn’t have the broken advantages that Wrench did.

Tapping into his systems he skewed his Cardiovascular system, Nervous system, Skeletal system, and Circulatory system he skewed them upward in multiple functions. Stream-lining his body to pump oxygen and air in as efficient way as possible.

Need to eat.

Eat a lot.

Eat so much that even if I ramp my Digestive system to a scary level I still get sick. Need a lot of fuel.

Maybe they’ll have food I can steal.

Hitting the ramp at a full sprint now Wrench was whipping down it at full speed. He was fairly certain he could find where these people went. Mostly because he had a fantastic way to get answers.

It was called violence.

Any question he wanted answered would most certainly be answered with the right application of violence. Violence would get him an answer even if it wasn’t the person he asked the question to.

Reaching the bottom of the Skybridge he stopped in front of someone that was clearly posted there as a sentry. Wrench closed on them in a flash, grabbed them around the throat, then thumped his wrench into their upper arm.

“People took two others from the Upper Field. Show me where they went, or I’ll show you where you end,” growled Wrench with an ugly smile. “You got two seconds.”

Blinking, shivering uncontrollably, the person lifted an arm and pointed.

“D-d-d-d-own-own that st-st-street!” squeaked the man.

Wrench spun, planted his foot, and leapt forward. Sprinting again and feeling the air pulling at his face as he did.

Reaching the mouth of the street Wrench didn’t stop. Instead he stuck his right foot on the wall, braced himself and then stuck his left foot on it.

He managed two steps before he felt the pull of gravity robbing him of his momentum. It didn’t matter though.

He saw his targets.

Not far ahead, partially obscured by some broken Pen furniture, he saw a group of Brawlers clustered around something on the ground. One was sporting a few scratches across their face.

Further away was another person, though they were face down on the ground and obscured from view. Wrench had no idea which one was Stripe and which one was Seventh, but it didn’t matter.

He’d kill everyone here to get them back. The lives here were already forfeit.

The person that was completely surrounded was on their back. He could see their bare knees, the dress they were wearing was hiked up to their hips, and the men around her were fighting over who were going to get on her first.

Given that Seventh wouldn’t wear dresses, it was obviously Stripe.

Pushing off the wall Wrench dialed up his combat abilities. Skewing his Integumentary system to harden his skin, running his Nervous system into overdrive for rapid reactions as well as slowing down the world.

Everything was banked hard into an overclocked position and turned Wrench, an incredibly and overly athletic man, into a machine.

A killing machine.

Before the men even saw that Wrench was there, before they knew he’d arrived, he slammed his weapon through the back of a man’s head.

It split open with a wet pop, his body jerking and falling backward.

To Wrench it was happening in slow motion. Providing him with a perfect amount of time to plan his next move and execute it.

Which was a kick with his left leg into the next closest person’s throat. He planted it perfectly with the top of his foot obliterating the man’s larynx. Crushing it outright and sending them flying.

Dropping his left foot down Wrench pivoted and swung around with his wrench in an arc backward.

The steel tool clanged loudly into someone’s brow and dimpled as the bone broke. Collapsing it under the weight of the blow as his skull caved in outright.

With as much force as he’d thrown into the blow Wrench was forced to take a step to steady himself.

It left him standing over the top of Stripe as three of her attackers were laid out and dying around them.

Or at least, he’d expected it to be Stripe.

A woman with dark-black hair as straight as could be that laid out behind her head, bright blue eyes that left him feeling like he was looking into carved ice, and a heart shaped face full of tears. As well as a swollen lip. She stared up at him unblinkingly.

Shocked and startled she didn’t seem to be breathing.

Oh.

Huh.

Well then.

Ah well.

This’ll convey my point well enough later even better. If I’m viewed as a psychopath prone to violence for those who mean nothing to me, what will I do for those who matter.

Grinning at the woman, Wrench lifted up his weapon, and then began to lay about upon the upturned faces of those around him. They’d all been squatting, on their knees, or bent low over the woman.

Providing him with many locations and perfect opportunities to crack open heads. As if he were smashing eggs.

In seconds, seven men were laid out on the ground and dead or dying. Leaving Wrench the last man standing atop the shocked woman.

A quick look around himself told him that there were no threats.

Dialing down his Nervous system he brought his thoughts back down to a normal speed. Along with all the other systems. He kept them “up” but not at their peak point as they’d been.

Letting them slide down to lower points so his body could start to recover.

No sooner than his mind snapped into the present flow of time than he heard the soft whimpers and sobs of the woman who was still beneath him.

Reaching down, he gently tugged her dress into place and covered her privates and legs. Once he got it partly over her, he stepped away from her and then looked to the mess he’d made.

Sniffing, he rubbed the back of his hand against his jaw. Then he looked back the way he’d come.

Walking that way he knew what he needed to do to make sure he got what he wanted later. A nice scene that would make sure everyone knew who Wrench was.

By the time he made it to point he’d entered from a number of people were already heading his way. He had no doubt people had wanted to know what was happening.

The vast majority of the people he saw were Brawlers.

Brawlers or people who looked to be thralls to them.

Standing there, his beige gown sticking to him oddly, Wrench looked around at those who were staring at him with wide eyes.

“Hi. I’m Wrench. These people were rapists. I killed them,” Wrench declared easily. He lifted his bloody wrench up and wriggled it around. Blood and something that looked like bone dripped off with the motion. “Do not make me return. I will fucking fix everything that I view as a problem. Now… you six. Come over here and stack these bodies for me nicely right here. I don’t want to make this harder on the Admini or Fixer’s later.”

Wrench had said the last while pointing his very messy Wrench at the group of people. Then he pointed at a woman who looked like a very worn and broken disposition.

“You, go get the women and escort them over here to me. You can get others if you need help. I’ll wait here so I can oversee you all,” he commanded, though he didn’t point his wrench at them. Then he remembered that the Shelters often worked on a token system to receive goods. “Any tokens they have on them are mine. If I think you stole from me, I’ll kill all of you.”

Rapidly, everyone obeyed him. He wasn’t quite sure why they were so eager to please outside of his threats and his weapon.

Given their responses, they seemed to be devoid of backbones.

The woman he’d ordered came back with both of the victims, though the other one was being carried over a shoulder.

“Wrench… what… should I do now with them?” asked the mousy woman who was doing all she could to not meet his gaze.

“Escort them to the medical ward. I’ll check on that later to make sure it happened. Do not make me come looking for you. It will not be pleasant,” promised Wrench, hard glaring at the woman.

The dark haired and rather pretty victim had eyes only for him as she was led away. Her head was craned backward to stare at him the entire time as she was escorted away and up the Skybridge.

Wrench had deliberately looked away when he realized and only glanced over once, only to find her still staring. After that he made sure not to meet her gaze.

He imagined she’d likely have some sort of hero worship for a time. All he had to do was make sure to not meet up with her again.

The Brawlers he’d ordered were dragging corpses over now. Though one of them came over and held up a small bag to him.

“I-I-I cleaned out their pockets real quick. These are all the tokens they had on them. I figured that’d-that’d be easier,” said the Brawler. Staring at Wrenchs’ bare feet.

“Smart. Pull one out and keep it for yourself. Intelligent choices should be rewarded,” Wrench allowed, watching as the bodies were being dragged out.

One was moaning. Each breath coming out as a soft groan.

Stepping over Wrench lifted up his weapon and brought it down with a great deal of force on their forehead. With a wet crackle the plate of bone became bowl shaped and the man twitched once, then stiffened up in a weird way.

“Hm. Any others still breathing?” Wrench asked, looking to the man who was still holding the bag.

Several minutes later and Wrench was walking back up the Skybridge.

To be fair, he probably should have known better. Stripe and Seventh had better survival instincts than to get caught like that.

They’d survived the vacuum of space and saved him, after all.

When he reached the top of the Skybridge, he found Seventh and Stripe standing there. Waiting for him.

The former was dressed in clothes that were more suited to School Hume if he was being honest. A rather flowery and form fitting dress that made Seventh, a Brawler in peak physical shape, look far more womanly than he’d ever expected.

As tall as she was at six-foot the dress looked long on her.

Her short dark-black hair that was four inches at best was pulled back.

It was, as ever, a mess of waves and partial curls. Somehow she’d managed to tie it all together, and back, with a great deal of small ribbons.

Pale green eyes were locked to him and a generous smile was painted to her lips.

Of the latter, Stripe was much smaller in stature than Seventh. Barely being anything over five-foot, maybe five-foot two, she was much shorter than him.

Her large dark-blue eyes were wide and staring at him under her finely manicured and clean looking brown eyebrows.

Her inhume ears perched on the top of her head were swiveled in his direction as well. They were large, rounded things, with a white furry edge around the rims of them.

That coloring ran down around the base of her ears, became hair, then trailed down behind her. On each side of those white stripes were dark brown stripes. The rest of her hair going to a light-brown color, the same as her eyebrows.

The strange stripe coloring of her ears and hair were likely where she got her name-sake. Tongsta weren’t exactly creative with their naming at times.

Dressed in a full dress that matched Seventh’s, one that emphasized her certainly attractive and curvy body, she looked wonderful.

He was incredibly attracted to both women.

While some men could be happy with women who didn’t have much up-top, he was not one of them.

“Wrench!” Stripe whispered coming over to stand in front of him. Her face was a moue of worry and concern. Her eyes roaming about almost wildly as if unsure where to look.

“You okay?” Seventh asked, coming over to stand next to Stripe.

“Course. Mender discharged me. Went to find you,” Wrench explained. “Asked a School. They said two new-comers got grabbed. Thought it might be you two.”

Seventh grinned at that, displaying a perfect smile.

“Oh? You were worried? I didn’t realize you cared that much. Now I’m flattered and glad to be here,” Seventh growled, a different tone taking over entirely. “We should fuck tonight. I deserve it. I saved your ass.”

Stripe was gnawing at her lower lip, her hands fluttering in front of herself as if not sure what to do.

“What’s wrong?” Wrench asked, looking at Stripe with concern. “I swear I’m okay.”

Seventh clicked her tongue, the undisguised lust that’d been on her face falling away instantly.

“You look like you went head first into a vat of blood,” she answered. “You’re… you’re covered.”

Wrench blinked, then looked down at himself.

The reason his medical gown was sticking to him oddly was it was soaked in blood.

As well as bits of other things.

Reaching up with a blood covered left hand, he flicked off some mushy piece of meat. It fell away to the ground and he looked up to Seventh and Stripe again.

“I take it you found them, thought it was us, and went wild?” Seventh asked, her smile returning like a damaged light-bulb working itself to full power. “Would you be that angry if someone tried to take me away from you? If someone hit on me, would you get all angry and wrench their shit up?”

Wincing, Stripe was delicately picking at him. Brushing things off him that clearly weren’t his. Her brow was wrinkled and she seemed quite concerned over him.

Well.

I guess this works.

Whatever.

I should go find a shower, or something.

Looking down, he saw that there was a growing pool of blood under him as well as chunks of his foes.

He then spotted a rather large gob of what looked like brain attached to his right foot. He had no idea how that got there.