Built Different [Cyborg Superhero ProgFant]

The Meteor thundered through the wastelands, with the hum of the cloaking device an ever-present itch in the back of my skull. It had been a miracle that both Clara and I had managed to wake up so early this morning. The techie had looked like fresh death, but confirmed multiple times that she was fit to run the mission with us. Of course, for her that involved going into her office dressed in pajamas and turning the computer on.

For me, it was a much more involved process, one that I had gone through the motions to complete. After examining my hand for a few minutes, Roxy and I rolled over to sleep. There was still plenty of excitement and novelty over my upgrade, but we were both sensible enough to know when a good night's sleep was needed.

As for my morning? I still held some dissociation for the reimagined limb. Perhaps it would never feel as natural as my leg replacements had, and I'd always see it as partly a tool rather than just being me. It was useable, sure. A breath of fresh air when getting dressed to be able to grip and move without the handicap of a long, digit-less barrel.

But as I sat in the vibrating vehicle, a drab mood had sunk into the depths of my conscious brain. Some amount of faux regret was natural, Clara had told me, while wagging her cybernetic finger at me. It was a much bigger change mentally than my legs had been, given how useful hands were. My brain just needed to adjust.

Something of a partial reassurance. I could endure.

Looking over at the super sitting in the passenger seat was a distraction away from the whirlpool of drab introspection. Our covert suits had been delivered early morning just as we were getting up. They were… a change from the norm.

All black, form-fitting bodysuits, with a layer of tactical gear on the top. Mostly cosmetic, as the others didn't need to carry much around with them. Balaclavas, goggles, and—somewhat humorously—sleek re-breather masks. Although I felt naked without my trenchcoat, the group matched my look completely.

It was almost like they had joined me in my contract killer days and we had formed a gang. Given our current direction, that wasn't so far from the truth.

Other than Roxy's arms being sleeveless, there wasn't much different from suit to suit. Belle had a discreet pack holding the charged crystals. Roy had his gauntlets instead of the black gloves the rest of us wore. Ren had many complaints about how the balaclava fit her hair until Belle helped cut a hole to allow a high ponytail to stick through.

My lack of magazines was also uncomfortable. I had never felt so under-equipped, even if this was technically more powerful. It reminded me of the time I had tried to be a normal person in the city, and had almost gotten myself whipped to death. Every few miles I'd load a Blank cartridge and eject it - testing the limits of the teleportation device.

So far, so good.

Clara had been filtering more nuggets of information through the STAR chat now that we were both more lucid. The device should work at any range due to the way that it is. Something about the magic that meant the separate parts were technically next to each other on some other plane, so moving a small object like a shotgun shell wasn't a big deal at all.

If it was for larger objects, like how the molepeople were using it, then it would have more restrictions. It made me question if this was the best use of such a powerful artifact, but at the end of the day it made me less likely to die in combat. Clara seemed proud of it, and she had every reason to be. Her knowledge and capabilities had grown exponentially since we had met, and she deserved every bit of praise I hoped to give her once the dust had settled.

The prospect of making a weapon for Belle had also stoked the fires that had almost burned out with how hard she had pushed herself to get my arm complete in time.

"Making good time," Roxy said, turning her head to see that my eyes were on her. "Going around the outskirts is a pain in the ass, though."

We had left even earlier to avoid traveling through the city altogether. Mathematically very emotionally tiring, but less trouble than getting caught playing mercenary for the League. Of course, if this became public knowledge then we'd get thrown under the bus by the rest of the Directors, if not Kingston himself. Why I now had to risk my career every other day—as well as my life—seemed to be a problem of my own making.

[And we didn't bring any games to play on the road trip.]

I received a few groans and grumbles from the back where everyone else was seated. They had all but resigned to being as glum as I felt, although their focus was on the looming battle up ahead.

For me, I'd hardly given it much thought. Certainly, it was slightly related to my new hand, as I'd be using it to do all the fighting. Killing mutants, though? With this team? Sounded like a walk in the park.

I could tell that Roxy had been holding back on some new invention with her volcanic powers, if only to allow me center stage with my arm. As much as that was foolish, I allowed her the secret - if only because it would make the in-combat reveal that much more stylish.

The others were coming into greater competency in their own right, as well. We weren't just raising through the ranks on the coattails of recent media representation. A burgeoning swell of power was taking us all up in the current together.

//Clara: There isn't a lot of information on this northern group of mutants.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
//Clara: Previous raids have always been small and… superficial, almost.
//Dubs: Testing the waters, or keeping the League on their toes?
//Clara: Potentially, Gunquake.
//Clara: Exhausting their patience. I would almost presume to goad retaliation.
//Dubs: Even with how sparse the attacks are?
//Clara: We both know the answer to that.

Of course, if there was one group among the gallery of troublemakers, the World Government itself liked to play the long game. If they were behind the attacks in the north, then it made sense for the effectiveness of the raids to not matter. They just wanted to needle the League and drain resources until…

Well, until someone like us showed up.

Belle moved her goggles up to rub at her eyes. "As much as I am glad to see more action, I usually prefer a brief that is more than go to location X and kill Y amount of people."

[I'm sure it will get more complicated once we're there.]

"Not helping," she murmured.

"My question," Roy added, "is why don't they have other assets closer to the problem? Surely we aren't unique in being mercs on the side?"

[If this is all part of some larger chess game, then it is because Kingston is the sole Director who cares about this issue… whatever his motivations.]

I could tell Roxy pulled a face, even though it was fully obscured. "I do hope he retains power, for our sake."

Short of physically getting involved, I'm not sure what else we could do to assist him in whatever political game was going on within the League. My mind drifted from further contemplation as a message came through - this time not from Clara.

//Silhouette: Are you at home today?
//Gunquake: I'm surprised you of all people need to ask.
//Silhouette: Just being polite. You are due a visitor today, they'll be disappointed.
//Gunquake: Friend or foe?
//Silhouette: Angel.
//Silhouette: :)

The intentionally vague answer was what I had come to expect from my brother. I hesitated to tell him about the potential sibling coming to the city very shortly. Perhaps he already knew. My eyes went back to Roxy as I fully digested his message and what it might mean.

Silhouette's S-Rank teammate wasn't terribly popular within our group. Both for being partially responsible for the death of Clara's parents, alongside stealing the glory of Roxy taking out Red Dust. As much as it was unlikely the League had sent her to kill us off, I couldn't see many other reasons why the hero should be knocking on our door.

Given how Roxy was tapping nervously on the dash of the vehicle, I wouldn't clue her in on our uninvited guest just yet. I didn't like keeping secrets, but as the leader of the Natural Disasters, I needed their full focus on the mission ahead.

There was no chance we were about to roll up to a medium-sized mutant town and mow through them with little issue. If they were Gov assets, then there would be a lot more to contend with than rusty firearms and melee weapons. Not that speculation would get me anywhere.

I turned my arm to the side, loaded in a Blank cartridge and then ejected it.

//Dubs: Loading successful. No additional delay.
//Clara: As expected. Thank you, Gunquake.

Grinding against my comfort zone further, I had another addition to my covert gear. Strapped to my right thigh was a pistol. Technically, I could use a gun while using my gun-arm. The prospect was awkward. Like brushing your teeth with a toothbrush in each hand.

Part of the reason for my discomfort was that it made me feel like less of a hero. My whole advertised shtick was in being a cybernetic gadgeteer with a literal gun-arm. Being part cyborg and shooting people with a normal gun seemed… pedestrian. The difference between me and a common thug was just a few pounds of metal and some circuit boards.

I lifted up my metal hand and opened it, inspecting the bastard. Bringer of imposter syndrome. In truth, I'd probably only use the pistol for when my arm was jammed or otherwise unusable. My more recent past with a gun-arm had overwritten most of the muscle memory of being a Gov mercenary.

Furnishing our covert group with modern assault rifles might add to the illusion, but I didn't fancy trying to teach the rest of them how to handle a firearm. Roy would probably be rather effective due to his military background, but the point of being a superhero was that we were supposed to be beyond conventional stock.

"What is our arrival protocol going to be?" Roxy asked, once again taking me from my drifting thoughts.

[What are our best options?]

"I see two possible methods. The first is we disembark out of line of sight, and either engage from range or approach their complex covertly depending on how they are set up." Roxy took a deep breath. "Less favorable option is to run Meteor straight into the middle of them and cause immediate chaos from the way out."

[That doesn't… sound like a valid tactic.]

"Yet is the most appealing one, is it not?"

I maintained eye contact with the super. It was remarkably difficult to judge her expression with the dark goggles and face mask on. I had no idea how she managed it with me for so long.

[Let's go with option A until we know what we're up against.]

"As you command."

I couldn't even tell if that was a hint of disappointment in her voice, or I was just imagining it. As much as there was the temptation to see this as a way for us to blow off steam and punch down on the enemies of the state, I was hesitant to act too rashly.

It could be that there was just a large group of humanoid mutants that we'd easily tear our way through. We might accidentally run the Meteor through an explosive stockpile, or into a quarry, if we were reckless. With so little information, and with the Arena tomorrow, we couldn't just assume we'd make it out of this fight unscathed.

Kingston hadn't furnished us with much information other than the location. If it weren't for the fact that I believed him about our importance for his political career, I might have assumed this was a trap. We ranked third on his list of priorities, below his personal interests and the city, but given the other Directors wanted me out of the picture… we accepted our role as off-duty kill squad.

For the next few hours, we remained mostly in our own thoughts. Clara plotted a route for the Meteor to travel, and Goldarch always remained as a looming shadow to the east. We sped past a handful of small groups of mutants and other creatures, but they either didn't see us due to the cloaking, or we avoided them just by the pace at which we were moving.

Eventually, the vehicle came to a slow stop in the shade of a group of large rocks.

The front window switched to a mission information screen, although detail on it was sparse. Roxy held her finger out to point at part of the digital map showing our position and the camp. A box appeared, showing a makeshift scout tower in between us and the mutants.

"Even with the cloaking, I don't think we should drive right up to them," she said. "If they're on lookout, they'll see the dust clouds at the least and raise the alarm."

It was several hundred meters away, but from the look of the image we had—courtesy of Clara's drone hovering overhead—there was no cover closer to the objective. It also looked as though further watchtowers dotted the perimeter of what was looking less like a mutant village and more like a small city.

[Time to disembark, then. Ren, you're up.]

Our day of 'protecting Goldarch' with excessive violence had begun.