Somewhere Someplace

-||-

A couple or so hours had passed; the night had progressed.

While most slept away, the foreigner was busy…preparing and repreparing…tailoring and adjusting.

Once again, she was standing before that same bedroom mirror, having been cleaned of…ash and dust; the same one she always stood before every day as part of that…long redundant routine. Her cyanic ignited eyes examined her reflection, evaluating and inspecting.

Such a strange…feeling, indeed, after all of that…effort, to see…herself…in such a more familiar way. How long has it been…since she last…wore this? Right…more than one and a half standard years, nearing on two. Truly, with respect to her standards, such a miniscule fraction of time; yet…it felt long enough, nonetheless.

Once again, after all this time, she was wearing that hooded full-cloak—her Remnant ‘smart-cloak’, to be precise—which obscured much of her figure. Dark-violet in color…with faint outlines of hexagonic patterns; it was rather…thick for a cloak, and perhaps slightly heavier…yet was remarkably light for what it was.

Its materials were clearly synthetic and exotic in all ways—incomparable to any fabric or textile materials of this place. It was absurdly resilient—nearly impossible to penetrate, cut, and or damage without equally exotic…things—and was protective against the elements too; water, dust, toxic ash, nothing would be able to properly stick to it.

Indeed, so alien and strange, but it was still…unmistakably…a full-cloak.

Though, this cloak was only the ‘outer shell’, so to speak. Underneath was her…so-called ‘outfit’; also dark-violet in color, though a darker shade of violet than that of her cloak. Despite being deceptively ‘frabricy’ and ‘textile’ in texture and feeling, it was materially exotic and clearly synthetic. It was not as protective as the smart-cloak, nor did it have the same…capabilities; though, it was still absurdly resilient and resistive to the elements.

Aesthetically, however, it was rather interesting. It was…‘dramaturgic’ and ‘masquerade’, yet also ‘militaristic’ and ‘combative’. It was really no wonder that Gunslinger’s attire had reminded her so of this, being conceptually similar…even if alien. Indeed, if combined with her mask, she would surely appear as though she were a character plucked straight from some masquerade drama.

Of course, neither this cloak nor underlayer were her primary Remnant uniform, rather it was a so-called ‘denizen disguise’ ‘integrated combat uniform system’, meant specifically for discreet operations in habitated localities such as here.

A rather anachronistic and beyond ancient label, indeed, for it hardly ‘disguised’ and, in fact, stood out quite so—though, once upon a time…long forgotten, it apparently had not. And at least it could still…somewhat blend in with…some cultures and societies.

The only component carried over from her…standard Remnant ‘integrated combat uniform’ were the tallish black military boots; generic, bland, almost similar to Far Western infantry even, and were ostensibly ‘leathery’ even if absolutely not—they were about as artificial, synthetic, and exotic as the rest.

Tightly sealed, these boots could withstand rather…extreme conditions—she could walk into lava and the boots would, at least, survive. They were also rather ergonomic.

Usually, underneath all of this, she would also be wearing a full-encompassing ‘body-glove’—yet another layer of sealed protection, granting further immunity to the elements and…sensations around, especially…radiation-related sorts among other hazards.

Initially, that was what she had done…since that was an essential component to her uniform system. However, wearing that body-glove…made her realize something.

Due to the body-glove’s properties, she could no longer…feel the cool air, no longer…feel the world around, experience the sensations of being…in a place like here at all. She was beyond used to this experience, granted; in fact, being able to…feel such things in detail was…more alien to her than not; yet…still, she wanted to be able to actually…sense the environment around.

Thus, instead…she had opted to make compromises, owing to the Remnant incorporating modularity into almost everything. The body-glove could be segmented and divided…with the right specialized instruments, of course. She had opted to detach segments of her Remnant body-glove to substitute the…prior primitive auxiliaries and undergarments she had already been wearing.

The leg segments were detached and used as ‘stock-leggings’, the lower-waist segment as undergarment ‘shorts’, the upper-chest segment as a ‘bra’—though it also had the benefit of covering the shoulders and general chest area—, and the hand and arm segments as ‘glove-sleeves’ of sorts which extended slightly passed her elbows.

However, yet another ability she never realized she had taken for granted…was the ability to actually feel in detail with her fingers; so, she also removed the fingers of her glove-sleeves and thus made the ‘gloves’ fingerless—something she had seen other Remnant troopers do before…whenever deployed in environments that…permitted; yet, she had never really…understood the point then, but now…perhaps she was starting to…

Truly, something as miniscule as having fingers that could sense…made all the difference.

Regardless, lastly, her Remnant body-glove also had a face-covering component which she had also taken from it. It covered half of her face—the mouth and nose—and extended down to the neck somewhat. It was largely meant for cases where, for whatever reason, a trooper needed to go without their HUD-mask.

And unlike the rest of the body-glove, the exotic nano-gizmo materials of this ‘facemask’ were…weaker, less constricted, and permitted for some simple molecules of gas and air to actually pass through. It was remarkably easy to breathe through and offered significantly better protections than those…face-coverings used by the denizens.

Thus…there she was, the foreigner stared at herself. Even though her ignited eyes could see…in the mirror…a figure that was far more familiar and recognizable to…what she was, the experience…was different from the last time she had donned this stuff.

Indeed…sensation…to actually…feel the world about. She had struck a balance between the protective sealing of the body-glove and the ability for what skin remained exposed to still…experience the environment, even if…it was an experience she was…perhaps still…becoming accustomed to.

However, despite the familiarity, it was still…incomplete. This ‘outfit’, this ‘uniform’, was not some collection of attire scrapped together. It was an interconnected system, one held together by either her integrated HUD-mask system…which she was without, or her arm-carriable ‘auxiliary’ or ‘secondary terminal device’…which she was…also without.

In fact, she was without much of her equipment, gadgets, tools, and gizmos. All because…

« You need to cut off and force-disable your ping! I know! Just do it! Do not even bother with your special Violet-Coat mode or whatever, you do not want to risk it—especially not if you are going to be with me… They can mark and track our pings; I do not know how, but I know with certainty that they can, » such words from such a voice had echoed in mind.

Indeed, absent from its usual chest-slot was her Remnant trooper ‘ping’. She had it, but she could not risk having it on her—not yet at least. And without her trooper ping, most Remnant technology would be rendered inert and inoperable…including her HUD-mask, secondary terminal device, and thus the full functionalities of her uniform system and smart-cloak.

Though, she still had donned both her Remnant equipment belt-attacher which allowed her to properly affix her liquid-flasks, and her Remnant equipment ‘harness’…albeit missing most of its…attached stuff. She also had her Remnant all-purpose cutter tool—the very instrument she had used to segment her body-glove, being one of few things even capable of…doing such a thing.

The foreigner sighed…as her bagged ignited eyes continued to stare, her inspection…finished. Everything was on correctly, this more than one-and-a-half-year hiatus…had not rusted her conditioning. Though, it had taken…more time than she wanted…to equip all of this.

Indeed, this would be sufficient enough, she garnered. Even without its advanced shielding and protection, comfort and temperature regulation, and such, her smart-cloak and uniform would…still provide more than anything she had worn prior. She could…substitute the rest of her equipment and weapons with…primitive.

Yet…she stared at herself, at her reflection in this darkened room…imagining, visualizing, recalling. Cogitations…contemplations…more decisions…being made, or rather…decisions long premade…only being reaffirmed.

« …nulla étapa retro, semper abante » her voice whispered. She had already gone this far; she might as well commit to it.

And even without her trooper ping, there were…ways to get some of her things to operate…at the cost of the security benefit. There were…no guarantees, either, and…such was going to require…work.

-||-

Hours. So many…uncountable…painstaking hours had passed. It was now well over the mid of night.

In her hands…was her Remnant modular small-arm, the one she had always used. Silver-white, refined, bland and utilitarian, angular and geometric: Remnant in all ways…yet still distinctly a ‘shooter’ that shot things. It had a fancy digital interface to go along, to which her perpetually bagged and tired ignited eyes…remained glued with fixated attention.

so the screen went on and on.

The foreigner exhaled in…stressed relief, her mind exhausted…

Done. Success. She had actually…done it. This feeling…this…strange feeling…truly, she had not felt this much herself in…too long of a short insignificant time.

Yet, despite the relief, she glared blankly at it. « Érrumá te’pșù…pyrobolatrex » she told her small-arm: go fuck yourself.

Words could not feasibly describe the sheer…loopidy-loops…she had to cross just to get this thing to recognize her auxiliary implant as an ‘intendent’ and pair its access functionality to it in leu of her ping. Her Remnant implant was never meant for such a role, minded, and was never meant to be a ping substitute. Likewise, her implant could only be detected and read with an active scan—something her small-arm was not capable of doing.

Sparing all of the…arduous details, she essentially had to resort to…synchronizing her hexagon to the small-arm, transfer its most recent authentication data of her and her implant readings, and essentially…made it recognize her implant by synchronizing it to her hexagon’s recognition of her implant, and then pairing its access functionality to that recognition… among many…many…other doings…

And since she was not a proper Teal-Coat, this entire process had taken…more time than she ever cared to admit.

Yet, nevertheless, with this done…her small-arm was now fully functional; she could use it without her trooper ping being active and present.

Granted, without her HUD-mask, it would certainly be more…awkward to aim and use without the targeting and aiming assistance. Double granted, its access functionality was contingent on…her implant’s detection and recognition by another thing. But, it was still useable.

She tapped at its interface screen, setting it to its default state; the small-arm compacted in size, the screen going dark.

She sat in place…in this large storage space, her mind being granted respite, before turning her ignited eyes to the rather decompressed and opened up hexagon… Now all she needed was to retrieve its…carry holster and ammunition.

She stood up and returned to the hexagon…and began to do just that.

She quickly retrieved two dark-violet…Remnant ‘pouches’ which contained three, somewhat small yet compact, ‘magazines’ each; one set contained standard-penetrative ‘smart-projectiles’, the other contained extreme-penetrative ‘smart-projectiles’, with each ‘magazine’ containing sixty projectiles.

These so-called ‘smart-projectiles’ were the Remnant’s preferred munitions; they were solid physical objects that traveled fast and far and were capable of adjusting their trajectory and could even track designated targets. Compared to primitive bullets, these smart-projectiles were rather…small and could be stored compactly—it helped that they were not discharged using powders or related…propellants.

Likewise, these smart-projectiles had configurable capabilities, varying from type to type depending on intended function. Hers, in particular, were all…cyanic-explosive…and could be set to high-explosive or not-so-explosive, to detonate upon contact or after penetration, among other things.

However, their computational nature…while convenient…could be a potential for problems. Furthermore, these projectiles were not exactly replenishable…for obvious reasons, so they would have to be used cautiously.

Yet smart-projectiles were not the only thing her small-arm could discharge. After these pouches, she retrieved a set of two ‘charge-canisters’ or ‘charges’…which were rather circular in shape and bulky—much larger than a magazine. These charge-canisters allowed her small-arm to discharge ‘exotic bolts’.

These ‘exotic bolts’ were not…exactly as physical as smart-projectiles and traveled somewhat slower than even primitive bullets. They also lacked the same kinetic punch, had no penetration, and did not have the same range—at least, her small-arm’s bolts did not. Indeed, in every way, they were worse than smart-projectiles. However, exotic bolts were…well…exotic; they were reactive—not kinetic.

Upon impact, they could dissolve and eat through…solid compounds of ‘ordinary matter’, leaving behind exotic residual compounds and glowing cyanic ‘goop’; they also poofed violently upon contact, giving them their own slight punch. Their dense charge-canisters also had an absurd capacity—up to a thousand bolts per charge—and could be recharged by her essence…making them extremely convenient.

These two charges were attached together, thus…could be stored as one. Her small-arm already had a charge-canister loaded, so these were just extras. She affixed the set of charges directly to her Remnant equipment belt-attacher and the two pouches onto her equipment harness.

With this done, she then retrieved the specialized holster and affixed it to her equipment attacher, holstering her small-arm afterwards.

Compared to her prior revolver, this small-arm was…rather chunky and large, but it was remarkably lightweight and easy to carry. And it was essentially all three of her prior weapons—revolver, rifle, and grenade launcher—in one, since it was modular: it could change modes.

Presently, it was in its compact ‘pistol’-like mode, but it could modulate and extend more into a ‘carbine’-like mode…which, granted, only somewhat extended its range capabilities, but it made gripping and holding more comfortable. It also had a bolt-flare mode, which would normally discharge exotic flares using charges, but when overloaded could discharge…one single…concentrated flare of potent…cyanic boom.

Likewise, since she was a Violet-Coat, there was also a…specialized exotic ‘firethrower’ module attached to its underside…and was rather an…ugly affair when used.

The foreigner exhaled…backing away from the hexagon. Alright, she had her small-arm…equipt and readied. Even though this alone combined with her…inert smart-cloak and uniform…would be more than enough to make her prepared…she preferred being super prepared; beyond super prepared, even.

And besides, given the method she had…unlocked her small-arm’s functionality, she had no choice but to go farther. As soon as she were to close down that hexagon, thus resetting the override, her small-arm would…become useless.

She needed something…else…to pair her small-arm with, and there was only one other option: her secondary terminal device. Her terminal device could scan and read her implant, and it had most of her…well…her-ness stored in it already since it was her terminal device; so…it should not be as difficult to…do the same…tinkering to make it accept her implant in leu of her ping… she assumed at least.

Though…such…only begged the question of…why she did not start with her terminal device to begin with…

Regardless, even at limited functionality, her secondary terminal device could provide basic coordinate mapping, environment radar, basic control over her smart-cloak and…other equipment…which meant that…she could utilize…more stuff…and thus…bring more stuff…

Indeed…basic explosive-charges, beacons, and such she could use without a trooper ping…as well as…her…grapple-hook… Not to mention her own…unique array of…toys.

Ugh…why did she not start with that first?

She motioned towards the hexagon…yet she abruptly paused, sudden cogitations entering mind.

She looked around…evaluating this storage space of…primitive stuff…then stared back at the hexagon…

She realized…right…

Remnant technology was…well…Remnant technology. Indeed…she acknowledged…sometimes primitive had advantages in its…simplicity. A primitive firearm that fired simple projectiles could not be…contaminated or screwed with the same way…her Remnant equipment could potentially be.

Fine, she will bring along a primitive revolver—the same one as always—and its essentials. Maybe also a primitive rifle, too? One that used the same caliber and powder; that could be useful.

And…right, her primitive backpack too, she could… Wait…how much stuff…could she fit in there? Hmm…her primitive satchels too, she could maybe fit her prior waist-belt alongside her Remnant equipment attacher… Certainly, such would be awkward but…

Though, she wanted to be…light on her feet and…she needed room for her rapier conduit…right…

Oh but…if she optimized, she could get away with quite a lot so that she was prepared for…absolutely everything…

She quickly snapped out of this…sudden hoarding impulse. Right, priorities: terminal device first, and then finishing her…preparations. Thus, without delay, she recontinued onwards.

There was not going to be any pause or rest this night, suffice it to say.