Havok Bringer

I couldn't feel my body. I knew something had gone wrong, but it was all kind of hazy. Last thing I remembered was lying on the table, Sherlock did his thing, and then everything went black. It's weird to say, but I was kind of getting used to dying. This, though, didn't feel like death.
I tried to sit up but quickly realized that I had no body. I tried to look around, and whatever world I was in was completely beyond my ability to comprehend. Colors, shapes, numbers, things were invading my brain at a pace that made it impossible for me to begin to make sense of any of it.
"Captain," I could hear Sherlock, but his voice was faint and seemed far away.
"Sherlock! What is going on?" I said the words; I heard them as I spoke, but it was almost as if they just materialized from nothingness.
"Captain, I must insist that you calm yourself. I can explain what is happening. It will no doubt sound odd, but I need you to listen closely."
I closed my eyes… no, that isn't right, I didn't have eyes in this place. I closed off my senses and focused on calming myself. I wasn't sure what was happening or where I was, but at least Sherlock seemed to know.
"Where are we, Sherlock?"
"First, I feel it is only necessary to explain that you aren't dead. Well, you aren't technically dead. We have a limited amount of time here to figure out what we can, but we will need to move as quickly as possible to limit long-term damage," Sherlock said, his voice getting closer.
"Okay, that's good to know. Now, where the hell are we?"
"This was an unexpected result, I must say. When we attempted to perform the reset, your armor seems to have executed some sort of defensive measure. While your body is technically unharmed, your brain functions have, for all intents and purposes, been turned off. Your consciousness is all that remains, and the armor has absorbed it into its matrix. We are inside the Havok Bringer armor, Captain," Sherlock replied. "You are seeing the world much as I do. Raw data is being presented to you, and your human senses are struggling to decipher the complex code in a way that makes sense. I would again ask that you try to stay calm while I try to filter the data in a way that makes it more digestible for you. Please stand by."
I waited while Sherlock performed his digital magic. It had been only a few minutes before he felt confident that I would now be able to perceive the complex data and algorithms in a way that made sense to me.
"You can open your eyes, Captain," Sherlock said. "I have managed to filter the data to fit within the limited scope of your perception. I feel it is necessary to inform you that the things you see in the raw data are representations of the external environment captured by the armor's sensors and presented in a form that you can understand. This place, for all intents and purposes, is framed by your subconscious. I have made the data digestible, but your brain is working overtime to translate the data into something you can understand. Does that make sense?"
I opened my eyes, which seemed to be back in place, and found myself standing on a deserted city street with Sherlock. Sherlock looked much the same as he did when he took on his physical form in the real world, with the main glaring difference being that he wasn't made of the black substance that made up my armor. The city looked like something out of a Dick Tracy comic with large buildings all built in the Art Deco style that was so popular in the 1930s and '40s.
"It makes sense. My brain is creating a scenario I can understand. I assume whatever we're looking for is in that bank, right?" I asked, pointing to the large bank sitting on a corner. The bank was made of weathered reinforced concrete and had four large pillars surrounding the front entrance that sat at the top of an impressive set of stone stairs.
"Correct, Captain. Normally, I would comment on the simplicity of your chosen design, but given our time constraints and the strain on your brain and body, I'll refrain. We need to move quickly, eliminate the firewalls, and access the locked information, understand?"
"I got it. We gotta rob this bank," I said, grinning as western outfits appeared on our bodies, complete with handkerchiefs and cowboy hats. I raised two six-shooters into the air and fired them repeatedly, "Yeehaw?"

"You are a child," Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disappointment.
For some reason, I couldn't summon my armor, but I could manipulate the environment to help us progress deeper into the Havok Bringer's matrix. I wasn't exactly sure how it worked, but I could make things appear just by thinking about them.
"Any idea why I can control the environment? Kinda feeling like a badass here," I said as we began walking up the steep concrete stairs in front of the bank.
Sherlock explained, "To summarize, we are currently integrated into the matrix of the Havok Bringer. Since you are genetically bound to the armor, you have some control within the matrix. The base code of the armor will respond to your request for access in most cases, allowing you to act as organic malware. It seems that the firewalls in place were not originally part of the armor but were added by a third party later."
"Like a virus that created a firewall to quarantine certain parts of the code?" I inquired. "I'm no computer expert, but that kind of virus was only hypothetical on Earth."
Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Your species had barely scratched the surface of quantum computing before the drop and hadn't even started to explore the possibilities of biocomputing. This type of virus is fairly common throughout the universe. In short, you have access to all of the files and features of the armor, as you and the armor are basically one being. Once we have eliminated the firewall, you should be able to access the data. However, you will not be able to make sense of the data, which is where I come in. If we succeed here, I should be able to answer all of the questions about the origins of the armor, as well as its full capabilities."
"Okay then, let's get this party started. I just have one question before we start, though," I said, holding my hand in front of Sherlock to stop him.
"What is that, Captain?"
"Do you like the handkerchiefs, or should we go with more of a Point Break style outfit? President masks and stuff, that sort of thing." I snapped my fingers and pumped my fists. "Oooh! Have you seen The Dark Knight?" I asked with excitement.

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"Dear God, this really isn't a show you put on, is it? This is actually you?" Sherlock rubbed his forehead in frustration.
I shrugged before turning toward the large double doors of the bank and kicking them in. I was surprised to see that the bank wasn't empty, unlike the streets. As a matter of fact, the bank was pretty busy. I immediately looked around, trying to get a sense of what kind of danger we may be facing, but I only saw normal-looking people doing everyday bank things. There were different species in the foyer: humans, Lycoans, and Malakim all roamed the inside of the bank but I didn't feel like they would be any sort of threat.
I continued my quick survey to see the first sign of danger. There were two Lacertine security guards posted at the far side exit and one patrolling the inside of the foyer behind them. Behind the glass at the bank teller stations, three Havokium females were looking in my direction. Behind them was one large, well-muscled Havokium male in a black pin-striped suit with a name tag that simply said, Manager. To emphasize the 1940s stereotype a little more, he was smoking a short, fat cigar, and had slicked back hair with a pencil mustache. his golden eyes narrowed as he noticed me and pointed in my direction.
"He don't belong here see… Get him boys!" The manager yelled.
I glanced at Sherlock, who was visibly frustrated as the guards started advancing towards us with their pistols drawn. "What's the matter? I didn't do this!" I exclaimed indifferently.
"You are quite literally creating everything we see. Out of all the possibilities, you chose a bank scenario straight out of Dick Tracy, complete with mobsters. It's unsophisticated and juvenile," scoffed Sherlock, before grabbing his pistol and seeking cover behind a large pillar on the left side of the room. I swiftly followed suit, taking cover behind the pillar on the right, as bullets began to strike the front of the room.
"Is there any chance my powers will work here?" I shouted as a chunk of concrete narrowly missed my head.

"The abilities related to your armor won't work here. However, you should still have your enhanced strength, speed, and reflexes," Sherlock yelled back as he momentarily emerged from behind the pillar to return fire.
"Okay, here is the plan! You lay down suppressing fire, and I will rush the one closest to me. Once I take him out, I need you to rush the second one. The first one of us to finish their target off rushes the third one, got it?"
"Sure, let's just execute the roughly thrown-together plan while a bunch of hostile computer bugs that you made look like mobsters from the 1940s fire pistols at us. Oh, and let's not forget that those bullets will very much kill us. Feels like a very sound strategy!"
I stood up and prepared to move. I waited for a pause in the firing, hoping that the lacertine guard nearest to me was taking a second to reload his weapon. When the pause came, I pointed at Sherlock, who leaned out and began firing at the two guards in the back, who immediately took cover. I sprang from behind the pillar to see that the lacertine guard was about 20 feet away from me, while all of the civilians were on the floor, face down, unmoving.
I jumped, covering the 20 feet in one leap. I speared the guard Goldberg style, taking him off his feet before landing on top of him on the ground. He screamed and struggled under me, trying to bring his gun up to fire at me, but I pinned his arm under my left knee before I punched down with my right hand.
The guard just smiled.
Sherlock had already started advancing on the second guard, who had stepped out to help the first guard I was currently entangled with. Sherlock intercepted the second guard before he could reach me, saving me from a two-on-one fight. As he reached the second guard, Sherlock fired a few shots at the third guard, luckily catching him in the shoulder and dropping him behind the desk he was using for cover.
"You and your buddy are dead meat, pal. You know who owns this bank?" The second guard shouted.
"I'm positively brimming with excitement to find out. Please, would you educate me?" Sherlock said as he took up a fighting stance.
I looked up and choked on a laugh at the sight. Sherlock was circling the guard, holding what could only be described as an early 20th-century pugilist's fighting stance. He had his right fist level with his chin and his left fist near his stomach.
"Not helping, Captain!" Sherlock yelled over his shoulder as he shot out a lightning-fast jab, catching the guard square on the chin.
I returned my attention to the lacertine guard that I had pinned to the ground; he was wiggling and twisting, trying to escape, but with no success. I was much stronger than he was, but the guard was still tough, and my punches had little to no effect on him.
"I don't think we can beat them in a straight-up fight, Sherlock!" I yelled; How do we kill them?
"It must be the guns. The bullets must represent code that is malicious to the virus!" Sherlock yelled in reply.
I looked over to see my gun lying a few feet away, out of reach, unless I wanted to let the guard up. "Desperate times call for desperate measures," I said before taking my thumbs and gouging the lacertine guard's eyes. I knew it wouldn't injure him for long, but I hoped it would buy me a couple of seconds.
"Aaagh!" the guard screamed and began twisting violently as I rolled off of him and grabbed my pistol.
I rolled to my back and pointed at the guard who had now stood to his feet, grasping at his eyes. A second later, he recovered and spun around, looking for me. He found me pointing my pistol directly at his head, immediately putting his hands in the air.
"Calm down, fella. Let's talk about this," he said in a slow, calm voice.
I didn't even reply, firing the pistol and opening a new hole in his head. The first guard slumped to the ground before slowly fading away.
"I could use some assistance here, Captain!" Sherlock pleaded as he was still boxing with the second guard, but was starting to lose ground quickly.
"If I keep saving you, you will never improve, Sherlock," I said before raising my pistol and firing at the guard he was fighting. I smiled at Sherlock and blew on the barrel of my pistol, "Two down."
Sherlock rolled his eyes once more before a bullet came from the forgotten third guard, dropping him where he stood.