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Do What You Can (Worm x Celestial Forge V3) by Throwaway1971

Books » Private Rated: M, English, Sci-Fi, Words: 324k+, Favs: 238, Follows: 272, Published: Jun 9, 2024 Updated: Jun 10, 2024

20Chapter 1 - The Forge Runs a Little Hot

A/N: For the hell of it is attached the initial draft for this story that I ended up scrapping.

I started out at 100 CP per 1,000 words for this first chapter to see how it felt, but it was way too much too fast, so I dialed it back for subsequent chapters.

I also will be posting the already completed chapters a little bit more slowly than I usually do becuase I have a fresh pair of eyes now so I'll be editing the mistakes I find. Grammarly can't catch them all and I am apparently a pretty crappy editor after I've spent hours writing. lol

[Jason Wilke]

[January 4th, 2011]

[Attempted Re-Forge: 29.0330 - Tinker Plus - 800CP]

[NOT Purchased: Insufficient Balance - 200 CP]

I let a small sigh escape my lips as I shook my head and took another bite of my Fugly Bob's Double-double sandwich, a small symphony of small-arms fire rattling off a few hundred feet away. The concrete retaining wall behind me was nice and sturdy- at two feet thick and probably reinforced it was more than enough to shield me away from any stray gunfire; nothing short of sustained, concentrated fire from a high-caliber machine gun would be able to punch through. Three tours in the Helmand province in the Army and three more years in Kabul as a contractor after I got out showed me that even dirt fucking walls could stop the heavy 880 grain bullets from our .50-cals. Though, if the yahoos shooting it out in the street were slinging Tinkertech lead then that would be a different story.

With good cover, complete concealment, and a nice view of the bay I decided that I would enjoy this little bit of peace because I probably would never have time to just sit down and take everything in for a good, long while. Not with the ringing of steel on steel echoing throughout my mind as the Celestial Forge slowly began to spin up behind the seams of my consciousness.

It was made a lot more difficult thanks to the teen who was taking shelter next to me, the young man constantly fidgeting- alternating between kneeling and hopping onto his feet to peek over the concrete wall with a near-religious chant of "Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! Oh, shit! Oh, fuck!" on his lips.

I sighed and shifted the wonderfully thiccc burger into the palm of my left hand while my right hand reached out and tapped the kid on the thigh. He startled immediately, his brown eyes shooting to me in a haze of adrenaline and fear. "Will you stop that? Sit down and stay down if you don't want to catch a ricochet."

"Ahhhh, fuck. Sorry about that man, just- fuck, I've heard about this place but I'll be damned if what PHO said wasn't true!" The dark-skinned teen sat down and shuddered as his breath left his lungs in an excited and nervous canter.

"First time near some gunfire?" I asked conversationally, using the opportunity to re-affirm my hold on this delicious hunk of American Ingenuity- two 1/2lb grass-fed beef patties, twelve strips of bacon, sauteed onions, sauteed mushrooms, and six slices of American cheese. Six.

Fugly Bob is both a madman and a genius.

All I had the past year was whatever the drilling company canteen offered and what elk myself and a few of the local hunters could shoot down; between the food, the cold, the half a year of the sun keeping me up or the half a year of darkness making me sleepy... I hated Alaska. Don't get me wrong, it was a beautiful place, but I never would have thought that I would prefer to wake up in a dusty tent sweating my ass off than to wake up freezing my ass off in a place where the sun didn't shine for half a year. Okay, that is an exaggeration- it was more like three months or so, but when the job was 12 hours on, 12 hours off with every day being a workday it certainly felt like half a year.

The teen nodded his head as he sat down on his bottom next to me and skootched up as close to the wall as he could. "Y-yeah, just moved to Brockton a few days ago with my folks-uh, my dad is a Senior clerk at the bank here. Since my parents have split custody m-my dad wanted to have me for this year."

"Folks split up?"

He winced and began playing with his fingers- interlacing them and squeezing before relaxing them and twiddling his thumbs. "Yeah. Suck big ass but... s'good for them. They just didn't 'click' anymore so they split and found people they did 'click' with. Nothing wrong with that. I mean, 63% divorce rate here in America, amiright?"

My eyebrows rose as I finished off the rest of the burger.

Shit, on my earth it had been something like 50%? Well, add in Capes- heroes and villains- the massive rise in crime, the destruction of the Endbringers and all sorts of other crap and that probably would have a significant effect on relationships even in the best of times.

I crinkled up my burger wrapper and sat it between my legs before I grabbed a napkin from the grease-stained paper sack and wiped my beard clean. A 'zing' off to our left caused the boy to flinch and I reached down and picked up my untouched coke, the end of the paper wrapper still secured over the straw, and nudged it to him. "Here. Take it- a little sugar will help calm you down."

He let out a small barking laugh before he grasped the large styrofoam cup in his left hand while his right plucked the wrapping paper off and took a huge gulp. "Thanks, man. Didn't realize how thirsty I was until now; shit like this really hits different, huh?"

Yeah, combat does tend to parch one's throat.

"Eh, you get used to it. As long as you don't wander into the gunfight with your cellphone in hand and your brain in your back pocket you'll be fine." I closed my eyes and let my head rest against the concrete as I felt the Forge heat up again and reach out.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 1.0220 - Delilah the Dark Elf - 400CP - Assistants]

[NOT Purchased: Insufficient Balance: 300 CP]

I left out a soft breath of relief. I don't know how well things would have gone over if I had a Dark Elf pop up from out of nowhere while I was chatting with this kid; the Forge went cold and I lost my connection to the cluster before I even had a chance to read into it. Quite annoying.

"So, uh, what's good with you?" The teen sipped nervously as the gunfire petered out- what was once a decent little shootout had dropped down to a few measly handgun pops before it faded away.

Ah, seemed like it was done then? I heard the teen shuffling a bit and I held out a hand, "Hold up, wait for the cops to get here first. Once the boys in blue secure the scene then it should be safe."

"Oh, okay. Shit ain't done till the po-po come, huh?"

I snorted before I cracked an eye and looked at him, "And to answer your question: Nothing much. Just off the plane from Alaska, hopped a cab, and came straight over here to get myself the best burger in America."

He grinned a little bit, his eyes roaming the shifting waters of the bay as he worried the straw between his pearly white time. "Fugly Bob's? Does it slap? I only been here a few days now, and mostly it's been me and dad barbequing in the back yard since the weather's been so nice."

"Slaps real hard," A chortle escaped my lips, "Best damn burger I've had in a long time, bar none."

He chuckled along with me and we sat there in peaceful silence for a few minutes that was only broken up by the sound of police sirens steadily growing louder in the distance. The kid startled a little bit when his phone started ringing in his pocket- a gangster rap song that I couldn't remember hearing before playing for a handful of seconds until he managed to fish it out and answer it. "Yeah? Pops, yeah. I'm fine. Yeah, there was a shootout near this place called Fugly Bob's. No? No, pops, for real? I'm fine- I took some cover behind this thick wall down here by the bay. No, I did not stand out in the middle of the street with my phone out- I'm young, not stupid."

My lips quirked a little bit and I adjusted myself so that the stitching of my blue jeans wasn't digging into my tailbone. Once I was comfortable I popped my neck and reached into the bag to grab the lukewarm fries and began tossing them into my mouth; thick-cut and salty as the sea. Boy, Fugly knew his business.

"Yeah, I'll meet you at the corner of the boardwalk, uh, that one bus stop? Uh, ah... number 33? That one we went to yesterday. Okay, well-" The kid popped up and looked over the three-foot-high wall, "The cops just showed up, so I think it's safe to move now. Alright, Pops, I'll see you there."

He looked down at me and turned his head to the side before mumbling lowly into the receiver. "I love you too. See you then."

With that he slipped his phone back into his pocket and stretched, a few pops echoing out from his spine as a pleased grunt left his lips. "Wwweeeellllll~, that was fun. Scary as shit but fun- we ain't never had that type of shit in my mom's area in Houston."

I chuckled and shook my head, "Well, you guys got Eidolon on speed-dial down there; I'd be surprised if you did with a big dick like that swinging through the air."

"Fuck, let me see Alexandria in the skyline every day. She's invincible but her costume ain't- you see her titties? Booooyyyy~ howdy!" The teen crowed as he dusted off his... I blinked. The kid was wearing skinny jeans.

What the fuck, Houston?

I'd read in the Worm franchise that Alexandria didn't really care about battle damage to her costume, and would sometimes fight while nude, inadvertently putting tits, pussy, and ass on display for everyone. I'm guessing there were pictures? I'd try to remember to check it out, for posterity reasons.

Following him up I mirrored him, getting a quick stretch in before I grabbed my backpack and duffel bag and slung them over my shoulders. I bent down to grab the empty paper bag and crumpled it up before I held my fist out to the young man, "Well, it's a bit oxymoronic here in the Bay, but keep safe, will ya, Houston?"

He grinned and tapped my knuckles with his own before dragging a hand through his kinky dark hair, "Shit yeah. Hopefully it ain't like this at Arcadia."

"Eh, Acaradia's a cool place from what I remember. You'll be good there- it ain't Winslow." I gave him a soft grin before I stepped around the wall and made my way toward the nearest trash can.

"Yeah, I been hearing that a lot." He muttered before heading in the opposite direction, "Peace man."

"Deuces." I held out my two fingers and watched the teen walk away.

Probably looking like a melancholic maroon I stood next to the trash can and gazed out over the bay for a few more minutes before I headed towards the boardwalk myself.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 18.0210 - Mass Production - 600CP - X-Men Evolution - Knowledge Reverse Engineering]

[NOT Purchased: Insufficient Balance: 400 CP]

Another swing, and another miss.

Not that it mattered, really- I had less than seven hours in Brockton Bay at this point and I haven't even found a place where I could set up shop yet. Hell, I didn't even know the layout of the city or anything other than what I'd read in the Worm web story and some fanfiction, but my forrays into Worm had been less and less over the past few months as I branched out my reading to different stories. The Dresden Files was what I'd decided to pick up on, but the copy of Storm Front had its first dog-ear on page 7 after I got sleepy on the flight from Alaska and decided to rack out instead of reading.

Imagine my surprise when I stepped out of the Departure gate and found myself not in Nashville but in Brockton Bay with naught but a gentle nudge in the back of my mind and a brief overview of my 'power'.

It was pretty cool that I didn't have to die a horrible plane crash or get run over by Truck-kun to have an isekai adventure, but... while I normally found the whole 'talk with God/Celestial Deity about being reborn' an overused trope... I suddenly had an appreciation for the types of Divines who would do such a thing. It really helped everything sink in and gave you time to process just what the fuck was happening before the 'game clock started'.

I was on the 8:30 pm Flight 227 from Colorado Springs to Nashville one moment, and when I stepped off the plane the world changed in the blink of an eye. It was incredibly jarring and stupidly disorienting. The warm evening air of the Nashville tarmac was replaced by the balmy chill of the bay area. If it weren't for the fact that I was holding up the line of people trying to exit the aircraft I probably would have stood there in shock for a very long time.

Regardless, I am here now, with no mission or objective outside of just doing whatever the hell I want.

Which for the foreseeable future is to survive.

No amount of blubbering or crying was going to change that.

The issue is that I have a lot of problems that I need to solve, and none of them that I can solve right now. I don't know the area. I don't have an identity- the Forge was at least kind enough to let me know that so I didn't try to rent a hotel room with a driver's license from the year 2021 like an idiot- and I only had limited funds on my person. Roughly $800 worth of cash split between my wallet and my ankle wallet- the small convenience store on the outskirts of town near the drilling platforms only dealt in cash, so cash was what we all kept out there in ANWR.

I was also pretty pissed that the bank account I had was also worthless; all of those years spent in the asshole of nowhere to stack up cash was for nothing. Though, to be fair, with the Celestial Forge backing me I suppose that I am making out like a bandit; sure, the cash I had is gone, but what is a few hundred thousand to ultimate cosmic and technological power?

"Ah, excuse me, sir," I mumbled as I pulled out my phone and gestured to the map of the Brockton Bay City Transit system, and the grizzled man shuffled off to the side so I could snap a few quick photos of it. "Thanks."

I moved away from the bus stop and walked toward a trio of benches that sat between three leave-less trees and sat down on the one with the least amount of bird shit on it. I pulled my duffle into my lap and sat my phone down on top of it, the weight of the phone along with the battery case created an indent in its nylon surface so that it could remain out of sight unless someone was standing a few feet away. I didn't need someone seeing a different style of phone and commenting on it.

The moment I realized what the hell was going on in the airport I kept my phone on airplane mode and turned off the cellular data, cell signal, wi-fi, and Bluetooth immediately before activating its power-saving mode. Sure, I had a solar charger in my bag for emergencies, but it wasn't like I was going to fuck around like an idiot and drain my battery. I tapped and scrolled across the photos I took of the map, and I was pleased to see that it not only had the bus routes but it also had a number of prominent locations listed as well. Each bus line in the city had its areas of service clearly marked along with the times that each line ran. It was surprisingly readable and robust, especially compared to the other public transit systems I'd used in the past.

Satisfied with the clarity of the photos of the map I tapped the app away and closed everything I had running down before pocketing it. My hands slipped across my backpack and unzipped the front pocket so I could take out the small travel notebook and pen I always kept on me. Flipping over to the first fresh page I clicked the ballpoint and stared at the lines.

And I stared some more. Then some more.

And a little more.

What the hell was I going to do?

A small chuckle escaped my lips at the sheer absurdity of the situation. For the past few years of digesting self-insert fanfictions on the internet, it was easy to be an armchair general and endlessly talk trash about the stupid mistakes of the MCs that were tossed into the deep end, but now that shoe was on the other foot and it was me in the hot seat?

This had to be karma. Truly. I'm sorry all of you authors whom I poked at with the 'Well why didn't they do this?' stick.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 31.0250 - At The Precipice of Magic and Science - 600CP - The Death Mage Who Doesn't Want A Fourth Time - Crafting Magitech]

[NOT Purchased: Insufficient Balance: 500CP]

Well, the good news was that I was stacking up credits. However, the bad news was that I was stacking up credits. I had read only a few Celestial Forge stories before, and stacking up credits was great if you needed to pick up a powerful power, but considering I haven't even had a chance to pop into my shop yet and had zero tools, knowledge, or training... at the rate I was going, I'd get a super-powerful perk that I wouldn't be able to use for a very, very long time.

As it sat right now I only had the Access Key and the Entrance Hall, but shit else.

I tapped the pen against my notebook.

Find good shelter with door access. Establish identity. Profit?

That was about the best I could do for now- food, water, shelter. The essentials were essentials for a reason. I had some cash, and with the small gut that I had I could skimp on food for more than a few days to stretch things out, especially after that succulent Double-Double I had; all that meat would tide me over till tomorrow, easily, so all I really needed to do was keep my electrolytes up with some water and I could go a week or two without eating. I'd done it before and I can do it again, although this time there was actually a real reason to do so versus just wanting to slim down for vacation.

I stood up and walked over to the bus stop again, checking the times and the routes. Hmmm... take the Market Line to stop #29, switch to the Boardwalk line... hop off at stop #17 and walk to stop #11 to get to the Downtown area. Then a short trip to stop #11 that should put me within walking distance of the nicer part of town, and from there I can move into the Suburbs. From there I can scope out the rest of the ritzier areas and look for a place to lay low; a lot of people would move towards the docks and the shittier parts of town to set up their workshops due to the isolated nature of the area and the availability of scrap, but me? No, I was going to look for a touch more safety on account of the fact that I can't shut my damn workshop door behind me.

Nothing would stand out more in a shitty part of town than a door that opened up to blank white walls. No, better to try and search for a house that had been put up for sale in one of the nicer areas- there had to be someone who fled town with all the crime, right?

I repeated the bus route in my head over and over again while I waited for the bus to arrive with everyone else. It was a bit awkward standing around with a bunch of people I didn't know, but this was my life now, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it.

The bus showed up roughly eight minutes later with none of us making any small talk, and I made sure to get on last since I was paying in cash; the driver crinkled his nose at me as I pulled out a dollar bill and fed it into the machine next to his seat before it spit out a quarter into the tray and a small slip of paper.

Unless I suddenly get a vehicle soon, one that wouldn't attract too much attention, then maybe I should get a bus pass? How and where could I get a bus pass?

I sat down next to the driver and picked his brain on the subject while we went through the route.

The Forge had been slowly building up another charge throughout the duration of the bus ride, and I got off a little early because the driver was kind enough - after some poking, prodding, and a little bullshitting- to let me know about the city's public transportation office. A quick jaunt inside and $30 netted me a nice little plastic bus pass that I could hang from my keychain and would get me unlimited rides throughout the city for two whole months. Considering I was paying seventy-five cents a hop for the small market circuit this would save me quite a bit of cash, and thankfully they didn't ask for an ID or anything, just three ten-dollar bills.

I was a touch worried about some of my cash being identified as fake, but the circulation of cash in Alaska was... pretty low. I knew for a fact I still had some bills going as far back as 2000 in my wallet, and welp, it looked like cash, it felt like cash, and it would hold up underneath the counterfeiting pen... most people didn't tend to look at bills unless they were large, so I felt like I would be just fine. For now at least.

It was a bit of a pain having to sit at the bus stop for fifteen minutes, but considering this was on the main boulevard through the city, with City Hall and the other buildings important to the function of Brockton Bay, there was plenty of police visible, so I felt pretty safe. That feeling would only rise further as I continued to make my way toward good old suburbia and the ritzier places.

I felt the Forge spool up and burn hot the moment the doors to the bus opened up, and I managed to scan my bus pass and sit down as a node finally was grabbed onto-

[Attempted Re-Forge: -9.0102 - Rare Material Cache - 50CP - Star Wars The Old Republic - Mundane Small Scale]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 550 CP]

I kept my eyes closed to that no one would give me any funny looks and leaned back into my chair as I tried to absorb the information that had just been injected into my brain. It didn't sound like a whole lot of information, but the detailed knowledge and blueprints that I could use to make items with the Beskar, Phrik, Ultrachrome, and Refined Cortosis. If it was a lightsaber-resistant material then I had it in my workshop. It was... only 10kg worth of material, but that was fine, I supposed-

A small tremor slid up my spine as another constellation was pulled into my orbit and my Forge grasped onto the closest node within its reach-

[Attempted Re-Forge: 19.0110 - Peak ADVENT Technology - 200CP - XCOM 2 - Knowledge Mundane]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 350 CP]

I coughed into my fist as an entire library of tech just dropped into my proverbial lap, and the headache that quickly followed it was horrendous. It felt like I was punched in the forehead, and I cleared my throat a few times as my hand came up to massage my forehead. Hot damn, that was- is- still unpleasant. The initial spike was the most uncomfortable with the insertion of the databases, but the number of schematics, plans, parts, and sciences behind the alien-driven government that followed made me feel like my melon was a water balloon that was close to bursting.

The pain began to fade over the course of a few minutes, but I didn't get the rest as another constellation swirled closely and the Forge snatched a star from its orbit and pulled it in close.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 3.0140 - Schematics to Time - 200CP - Generic Video Game Developer - Time]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 150 CP remaining.]

Now, I had always been fairly good at time management and troubleshooting, but 'Schematics to Time' just made that whole process far more straightforward. A recent memory bubbled up to the surface of my mind of my attempt to diagnose why my heater wasn't working- oh, shit-

The Forge reached out again, though thankfully its reach fell short.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 14.0240 - Library of Raum - 600CP - The Dark Wolf Shiro - Database Magical]

[NOT Purchased: Insufficient Balance: 150 CP]

Hell.

I let out a soft sigh of relief as the constellation spun out, but couldn't find purchase on the large star that the Library of Raum had been. I still needed time to digest whatever the hell it was I just got! If you blitz me like that again my head my fucking explode!

A small thrum of amusement emanated from the Forge, but it informed me that all of the knowledge that I'd accrue wouldn't kill me no matter how much it threw at me- it was fiat backed by the Divines themselves. I would probably just fall unconscious for an indeterminate amount of time.

That wasn't much better if I'm being honest, but the sheer volume of information that Peak Advent Expert thrust upon me was almost mind-boggling. All of the tech that the ADVENT government had at its disposal, from communications to vehicles, to weapons, armor, Psionics, and motherfucking combat mechs was mine. I probably should have been excited about the Psionics more than anything, but that wasn't the case because I'd always been a mecha guy- Gundams, EVAs, Titans... if it was big and could fuck shit up, I was on board with it.

It was great! A whole database of advanced technology at my fingertips, but unfortunately I didn't have shit to build any of it with. No tools, to workspace, to nothing.

I shifted a little bit as the bus came to a stop and I glanced up at the shitty red LED sign letting me know that this was my stop. After getting my bags situated I stood up and slowly walked down the steps, and I walked right into the embrace of the beginnings of the wonderful Brockton Bay suburbs.

The suburbs for Brockton were a fair bit smaller than I had anticipated; unlike the sprawling lots and seemingly non-sensical roads and cul-de-sacs that became prevalent in 1960s America, the layout for the solidly middle-class neighborhoods must have been planned out and set up well before then. Instead of winding streets with rounded dead-ends, the homes were aligned well with the roads, taking a more cross-hatch layout instead of your typical 'hand your 3-year-old a crayon and as him to color within the lines' type approach that the planners of the country chose. Sure, it might have reduced some traffic bottlenecks and lowered traffic accidents a few percentage points, but it certainly wasn't intuitive or space-efficient.

I received a few glances as I walked with my bags, but considering I was wearing a nice jacket with the collar of my blue button-up shirt exposed and the blue jeans I was wearing was fashionably faded I easily passed for the average man walking about. My beard was a tad long, which was probably a sticking point, but if anything that just pushed me further and further away from anyone who looked like they could sympathize with literal, actual nazis. Not the kind of people you denigrated just because they didn't agree with you- no bullshit, swastika flag-waving, 'seig heil' shouting, jackbooted, goose-stepping nazis.

Who had really bad fashion sense.

The actual nazis, say what you will, had an iconic style that both stood out and was quite fashionable- it was what a uniform should be- a symbol of strength and uniformity that helped get its members into the mindset of valuing the whole over the individual. Didn't excuse the business destroying, the book burning, nor the genociding, but when you compared the nazis to the communists and other groups massacring people around the world throughout human history, they were by far the best dressed.

My train of thought was interrupted as a constellation swung close and the Forge tried to latch onto it, but there just wasn't enough juice to do so.

[Attempted Re-Forge: -28.0252 - Ahzidal's Apprentice - 400CP - Elder Scrolls Skyrim SB - Crafting Metallurgy]

[NOT Purchased: Insufficient Balance: 250 CP]

I didn't know what that was as it swung by too quickly for me to get anything other than its name, but that was fine; Skyrim was cool stuff and I honestly couldn't wait to pick up something from that universe, but with my lack of tools and... everything else I would much rather ask the Forge to grab me some workspace first. At this point I am the world's worst tinker- lacking the initial tools needed to make my tools so that I can make more tools.

And a place to sleep.

Granted my meta-knowledge of Worm more than makes up for this shortcoming, but until I can create an identity to do things with I'm going to be coasting for a long while on the small amount of cash I did have.

It was about half a mile from the bus stop until I made it to my current target- the fancy neighborhood "Brockton Heights". Which, while it did have a tall fence and a gate, the front gate was open and unguarded; they probably had it closed at night with someone to watch the doors, but in the middle of the day they had nothing to fear. Especially not with the two Brockton Bay Police Department patrol vehicles parked just a few dozen feet down the street. Thankfully they were sitting side by side, the two officers in the vehicles had their windows down and here having a chat over what appeared to be lunch.

I gave them a small, polite wave when one of the cops looked at me, and he gave me a small wave back before continuing on with his conversation. The funny thing is that if you don't look like you're not where you're supposed to be, then most people don't really care; cops included. I was dressed well enough and despite the fact that I was walking into the fancy part of the suburbs I walked the walk. Hopefully they didn't change their minds- I didn't know how well I could talk the talk. I have no fucking clue who lives here, so if anyone asked I wouldn't be able to tell them shit.

I tactfully ignored the "Brockton Heights Residents ONLY - Trespassers WILL be asked to leave" sign that hung next to the foot gate and kept on walking as if I was meant to be here. No fidgeting, no looking around or careful glances back at the cops. Nope. I live here.

To my great pleasure, I remained completely unmolested and I got to enjoy the nice afternoon breeze that blew down the street now that there weren't a few hundred houses choking the wind off. The lots were easily eight times larger than even the largest corner lots in the suburbs behind me, with the front lawns of these large two and three-story mansions looking like they could hold a school picnic and still have room to spare. Their lawns were, much to my surprise, already greening up despite being still pretty early in January, and I witnessed one man and his three very small children enjoying a nice ride around their property in an electric golf cart- the man's daughter and son squealing in joy as their father slowly turned the steering wheel to take them around again.

That just so happened to comfortably coincide with my not-at-all hurried walking pace to clear their property before they came back around again. The street for this wealthy sub-division slowly began to climb uphill, with the further away from the main street entrance I got the more trees there were close to the sidewalk. It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful part of Brockton Bay that I'd seen thus far, and the higher I climbed the better I could see Captain's Hill in the not too far off distance, though if I'm being honest the very large skyscraper was kind of ruining the view a bit; I didn't know if it was Medhall or not, but considering it was the largest building on the skyline chances probably were that it was.

The Forge spooled up and reached once again when the familiar 'Time' cluster swung by, and the fires from it managed to grasp onto a small star before pulling it in close.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 3.0060 - I Can Whip Something Up - 100CP - My Life As A Teenage Robot - Time]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 250 CP remaining.]

I nodded my head. Okay, that was a nice little perk! As long as I was getting my needs for food, water, shelter, bathing, and other minor things needed to live I could never grow too bored, suffer from burnout, or lose my groove. This perk will probably prove invaluable if I ever had to sit down at a workbench and churn out a whole lot of shit. So, it's a very nice pick-up, I just wish I actually had tools and more materials that I could use to do shit with.

If I got lucky then I wouldn't have to worry about those two things in time. Ah, that was the big rub, wasn't it? Time.

The walk to the top of the hill was pretty long, but it proved to be worth it because at the top were three large properties- the rightmost property was a three-story affair with a great big lawn and what looked to be some sort of sports car parked out front, the center property looked to be three-stories as well, though the little windows near the foundation told me that it definitely had a basement. Those were very nice houses, to be sure, but it was the third house, the one with the big, fat "For Sale" sign that was littered with large coniferous pine trees that caught my attention.

Looking around and seeing no one, I slipped off of the sidewalk and walked between the trees, angling myself so that the majority of my person was obscured by the pines on the property from the road and from the neighbors. It took me almost a full minute of walking to reach the house, and I was pretty damn happy to see the little realtor lock-box hanging off the front door. I gave the corners and walls of the home a quick check-in search of cameras, and to my surprise, I didn't appear to see any?

Who doesn't have cameras in Brockton Bay?

I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and strolled quickly up the front steps and to the door and I peeked in through the small rectangular glass window nestled into the door frame. I couldn't see much thanks to some reflection, but cupping my hands in front of the window cut down on enough of the glare that I could get a clear picture.

It was completely empty- no furniture in the dining room from what I could see, and the hardwood flooring had this red velvet-looking carpeting that was cut into neat little walkways; the original owners had moved out all of their stuff and the place was ready for in-person tours. Not that they'd probably get many visits because "Priced below $1 Million!" in Brockton Bay wasn't exactly much of a value.

This was it!

Well, it was nice, I suppose. Honestly, I was expecting to see a lot more houses up for sale here, but considering Leviathan hadn't swept in yet...

Also, no, I wasn't going to break into this house. I was going to break into the very nice garden shed at the back of the house and live in it for the time being. In my extremely limited experience, the rich folks didn't have normal garden sheds- they had fancy garden sheds. Of which I would let myself into and sleep in until I gained some powers that would help me conceal my workshop in the future. All I needed was some time; no druggies stumbling upon my shit, no capes fucking with me or my shit, and certainly no cops or Protectorate capes fucking with my shit.

I walked down the steps and around the side of the house, and I finally found what I was looking for.

It was a large shed, easily large enough to stow a trio of riding lawn mowers side by side, and it was surrounded by trees on all sides. It was pretty deep, which lead me to believe that there might be some sort of internal division inside; maybe my prayers would be answered with a second, lockable door? That would be perfect.

I grinned and mentally rubbed my hands together as I walked across the manicured backyard, stepping around the four beautifully tended flower beds that had some type of flower germinating; what type of flower bloomed during the winter in Brockton Bay? I couldn't tell you, I'm not a flowerologist, but I can tell you that it was quite aesthetic; very visually pleasing.

The shed itself was a combination of wood and steel construction; the roof was more than likely galvanized steel while the four corners of the structure were thick wooden beams that were also coated in the same white paint as the roof. The walls were probably plywood, but they had been veneered with galvanized corrugated steel siding that was painted red. There were a few little nice decorations on the front windows, in addition to the small security cameras that hung... from the corners; from where I was standing I could see three, and there was probably a fourth one on the backside that I couldn't see.

Even from where I was standing I could see the wires slip up into steel conduits that had been tucked into where the walls met the roof, and the conduits all fed into a two-inch diameter pipe that was sealed and ran underground. That pipe probably ran back to the house. No, it definitely did. No bet.

Fuck.

A groan escaped my lips as I turned right back around and walked my happy ass right back to the road. The house didn't have cameras but the shed did? Yeah fucking right. The house did have cameras, I just couldn't see them. While the chances of this house having some sort of 'away-from-home' monitoring system were probably slim, that didn't mean none. I couldn't afford to take such a risk. The realty company would come back to check on the house sometime, and it was always best to assume that they would come at the worst opportune time; this was Worm.

Leave nothing to chance.

I walked my happy ass back towards the road and slipped back onto the sidewalk and made my way back down the hill. That was a total bust. Good in theory, poor in practice.

The real question I had to ask myself now was-

[Attempted Re-Forge: 16.0060 - Engineering Basics - 100CP - Dead Space - Knowledge Abilities and Skills]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 250 CP remaining.]

I almost stumbled as I felt my mind shift.

- Acceptance into the engineering program. Graduated from school and was hired as part of the Concordance Extraction Corporation's 'Bright Minds' program. Three and a half years of schooling in order to learn how to maintain, troubleshoot, and repair almost every critical system on Mankind's Savior, the USG Ishimura. I was damn good and lauded for my efforts, but none of that mattered when we cracked Aegis VII and they brought that thing on board. Then the whispers started happening. Then the people started to go crazy. Those that weren't adherents to the leadership's bat-shit crazy ideologies were hunted down and killed while monsters began infesting the ship. The last thing I remember is a stingray looking monster flapping towards my prone form while a trio of insane crewmen chanted on in delight- it's probiscis flashed out towards my face and! -

A small cry left my lips as my whole body recoiled at the experience of being impaled through the fucking skull. What the fuck!? Forge! Seriously, what the fuck!? I felt a cold sweat prickle at my skin as my body shivered for a few moments, the memories were all too real. I didn't just... inherit knowledge from the engineer- I was the engineer! Someway, somehow, the Celestial Forge had managed to drag me into that man, and I experienced everything.

Even my death.

"Uugh," I hissed and shook my hands out.

The Forge just rumbled in the background.

Instead of dwelling on the sensations of being skull fucked I focused on what the perk gave me. I was an excellent engineer, capable of finding imperfections in a functional machine and fixing them before they caused problems, fixing virtually anything mechanical and most technological issues, but the electronic side was limited to the physical aspects; if I needed to code or something then it would have to be Dead Space related codes or else it wouldn't be worth jack shit. Which was fine. If I can fix things then I can do things. Which is great.

What was not great was how warm everything was getting- the sun was just past its zenith and with all of the walking I was doing, not to mention carrying around two fairly heavy bags, I was starting to work up a bit of a sweat. I unzipped my jacket and undid the top button of my shirt as I walked.

Thankfully, I was given about just as much trouble on my way out of Brockton Heights as I had going in. The cops were still just chilling in their vehicles and I walked straight east on Vaudeville to head towards the coastal downtown area. It was a good two-mile trek, but my boots were comfortable and I had my water bottle to sip on, so it wasn't too bad; I just had to take off my coat and fold it over my bag as I kept on walking.

The further I walked the worse things got, houses and yards were poorly kept up if they were kept up with at all, wooden picket fences gave way to rusted chain-link, and there were cars that were rusted out hulks sitting in driveways in what seemed to be every other house. An exaggeration to be sure, but it certainly felt like it. The upside was that there were plenty of kids running around outside and playing, a dozen or more of them running around a beat-up but still functional playground while their mothers watched over them and they chatted on those rubberized steel wire benches. A few looked in my direction and I gave them a polite nod as I continued my way through the 'shanty town' of Brockton Bay.

It was really, really hard to miss the obvious gang signs denoting the area was Empire-88 territory- the eagle, the twin 8's, the twin H's, a few blatant swastikas, among a few other identifiers, and all of them were spray-painted onto the sides of some buildings or businesses. It was amusing to see an E-88 tag crossed out in black paint with a yellow Merchant 'M' painted next to it, only to see the 'M' crossed out and another eagle spray painted over the top of it. This continued on from the left side of the building to the right side, though considering the coastal downtown area was so far away from the Train Yard and the bulk of the Merchant's territory it made me wonder if the duggies had actually claimed territory down here or if this just was gang posturing.

It was excellent exercise, and I felt like I was getting a much better feel for the areas by walking through them than just observing them from a seat on the city bus, but it wasn't all good news as I was having an incredibly hard time looking for a place to squat! I blame fanon self-inserts, they made looking for some out-of-the-way bolt hold seem easy. Even in Brockton, it appeared that free real estate wasn't exactly free real estate.

I stopped by a small corner store and picked up a couple of 1-liter water bottles and a few salt packets to quench my thirst and refill my good old plastic water bottle. As I poured the salt packets and water into my bottle I felt the Forge grow hot as a constellation reached out and managed to grab a hold of something again.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 7.0020 - Auto-Factory - 100 CP - Starbound - Facilities Mundane]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 250 CP remaining.]

Oh. Oh. OH! I couldn't help but grin a little bit as I finally got something that would allow me to do things! This addition to my warehouse - my very first one ever- would allow me to make a ton of shit, up to and including a starship if I had the blueprints and materials for it! Granted, it would take a long time for it to build a starship but it could build one, and thanks to the ADVENT I have more than a handful of ship designs to play with; from the medium-sized supply ship the Avenger to the small and nimble SkyRanger among a half dozen other blueprints and schematics- the largest being a 3.5-kilometer-long mothership.

Not that I would be able to actually build it in a reasonable timeframe, as just a Skyranger would take months at my current build rate. Truly a shame, but I had the capability now, so that was something at least.

The real kicker for this perk was the fact that once I had blueprints and materials the system for the Auto-Factory would build it all for me without any further inputs. Once I got some of the more powerful time and resource-enhancing perks I could seamlessly insert myself into the build process and speed up production even further. I wouldn't hold my breath, however, because the chances of me getting the handful of perks that could help me out like that were slim when there were well over 500 more perks left for me to pick up.

With my now electrolyte-infused water, I continued on my journey, following the main street that linked Brockton's suburbia and the shantytown, moving slowly south and west at a fair clip. I ended up undoing a few more buttons on my shirt as I kept on moving, the less-than-attractive single-story family ranch-style homes becoming further and further spaced apart until trailer parks and small mechanical businesses started to dot the landscape; I passed three different junkyards, eight different shitty-looking auto repair shops, and a smattering of other businesses that looked to be on their last legs.

I also started to see my first blatant skin-heads- the trailer trash coming out of the woodwork wearing a mixture of stained but clean button-ups and dirty wife-beaters; I'd say that half were what one would imagine a bunch of nazi minions would look like while the other half did their best to not look like nazi minions while still being readily identifiable. Much to my surprise, most of them didn't have visible tattoos of any kind, and for the most part, they were just sitting around some fire pits in the trailer parks I'd been passing drinking beer and smoking cigarettes.

I received a few curious looks, but for the most part, I was left alone.

The sun was just starting to begin its descent into the sky when the shantytown area gave way to two roads, one went left and moved through a large open field towards the coast and the other went right towards the higher ground. No matter which road I chose there was a rusted road sign with a few bullet holes in it that read "You are now leaving Brockton Bay".

A small smile crossed my lips and I felt a small sense of relief fill my breast- to think that the Empire didn't have some control extended out past the city was foolish, but the amount of power they could project should be limited. Unless I picked up a vehicle the commute into Brockton would be a huge pain in the ass, but with the large gaps in between properties out here in the countryside and the chances of me being stumbled upon were slim- much slimmer than if I'd tried to pick up a place in the docks.

I walked for another hour up the winding, cracked and pot-hole riddled asphalt roads and found more than a few places that I could post up in; my issue with them was that the empty and busted up trailers were quite visible from the roads. I wanted someplace where the vegetation was grown over and the home was far off from the main road - County road 33- as possible, so I kept on walking. I ended up roaming up and down across three separate hills, which was for me, quite nice because that meant I probably had enough elevation and land between me and the coastline that when Leviathan came to Brockton in a few months my lab should be safe.

I turned off County Road 33 and began making my way up a fairly steep hill; from what I could see there were what appeared to be six trailer lots that were dug into the hill and stepped up like a staircase. The first three were lowest on the hill while the next three were a bit higher up thanks to the exposed rockface; cinderblock retaining walls were at the back of each little property to keep the hill behind the trailers from eroding away. The first, second, and third trailers looked occupied, so I ignored them and continued up the hundred and fifty feet or so of gravel road, the crunch of the stones making a fair bit of noise underneath my boots.

The fourth trailer home was a burnt-out husk; the roof was gone- caved in- and the sheet metal side walls were only standing because the roof prevented them from collapsing inward. The fifth trailer home was double-wide, and it was by far the most well-taken care of. It appeared to be a fresh coat of paint on it with all sorts of potted plants, wind chimes, multi-colored plastic pinwheels, and other various cat-lady knickknacks covering the weathered front porch. My eyes were on the sixth trailer though- it was just barely visible with tons of vegetation and small trees making it difficult to see even from the main road, let alone my current position.

I couldn't stop the smile on my face as I grew closer and closer.

The windows were broken, the sides covered in flaking blue paint and rust. Four rusted-out car and truck hulks were in the front yard up on cinderblocks, and from what I could see as I approached they were all from the 50's and 60's era; I could instantly recognize the old Ford F100 and the Cadillac sedan, but that was about the extent of my knowledge of old cars- both of the grandfathers on my mom and dad's side of the family were flush with old cars that they had restored and religiously maintain. Behind the double-wide trailer was a barn that was neither large nor small; it looked to be just large enough to drive a car into. What stood out to me more than the barn, however, was the huge amount of junk that wrapped over the top of the hill and out of sight; this damn place could pass for a fucking scrapyard! Washing machines, dishwashers, whole engines, what appeared to be broken television sets from the 1980s, and was that... a water pump?

A really big water pump.

I moved through the area and ran my fingers carefully along a few pieces of junk before turning my attention to the back of the trailer; there was a wooden deck that looked to be in god-awful shape- the wood was clearly rotted out and half of the deck planks were cracked and broken. The deck sat a the metal frame of a glass table - the glass had been shattered with small chunks of it littering the deck- and a large sunbleached umbrella that had more holes in the fabric than not. One of those shitty folding chairs with the plastic strap seats was placed under it and it looked to be more rust than not.

The back door looked to be cracked right in half, as if someone had kicked the door in. I moved up onto the porch, stepping carefully and testing the wood of each plank that I walked on as I made my way over to the back entrance. I grasped onto the door and gave it a good, solid tug, and was pleased to find that it opened outwards, though I had to be careful to keep the door in one piece as it swung out on rusted, creaking hinges.

I was greeted with the sight of a small utility area, to the immediate right of the door was a washer, but no dryer; a quick check over my shoulder and I did see what looked to be two Y-shaped clotheslines, but they had fallen over and the cables or rope used to hold onto the laundry were missing. There were a few shelves that held nothing on them except dust and cobwebs, and I looked left through the doorway and glanced over a kitchen with an island sink- on the back wall was a small card table with a single chair. My boots crunched onto some glass and wood and I lifted my heel up on my left boot to pry out the piece of gravel that had gotten stuck between the treads before tossing it out into the grass.

Gingerly I stepped into the main living area of the trailer, and I was surprised to see that, despite the front broken window, the place looked to be in... pretty damn good condition. A scan of the floors showed me none of the shit that I had seen in other abandoned trailers and homes I'd perused through on my way out here- no cigarette butts, no used needles, no empty pot baggies. The carpeting on the floor looked to have a fair amount of water damage near the open window by the similarly water damaged couch in front of it- no doubt a few powerful rainstorms managed to toss in a fair amount of water into the house over the years, but there wasn't any visible mold that I could see.

I pulled back the couch a little bit- ah, there was the mold. It was green and brown though, not black, so there was that at least!

A television sat in front of the couch quite closely, no doubt it was used by an aged person with failing sight, and the power cable was snaked across the carpet and covered with ratty, faded duct tape. I investigated the two rooms visible and was they were revealed to be a Master Bedroom and a smaller but still quite large second bedroom on opposite ends of the house with two full baths; the Master bedroom had a small twin mattress with two dressers and a walk-in closet while the second bedroom had was looked to be an old ammunition reloading set up.

It was a Lee single-stage classic reloading press, though with how old the damn thing was it was probably just called the "single-stage reloading press". The thick wooden bench was littered with various boxes, shelves, and a brief inspection showed that there were a dozen or so complete reloading die sets, though most of them were rusted. The bathroom still had the shower and tub, but it had been built out with wooden shelves that held even more reloading components in plastic tubs; whoever was here probably lived alone and didn't ever expect to have company. The closet had some clothes and the like, but most of them were threadbare and moth-eaten.

There were a lot of spider webs as well, and not wanting to chance being bitten by something I decided not to dig too deeply.

It was a shithole. The best shithole I'd seen thus far, but it was a shithole nonetheless. It was also quite far away from the city of Brockton Bay.

It was perfect.

I grinned and walked through the place one last time before I made my way to the front door and managed to undo the sticky locks before I opened it up.

The door swung open on creaky hinges but it didn't appear to sag at all, but that was when I was greeted by the very familiar muzzle of a double-barreled 12-gauge shotgun. I froze as I forced my eyes away from the two large barrels of certain death and toward the person holding it.

She was old, and very weathered. More wrinkles lined her face than not, and she was wearing an old blouse with a yellowing but still fluffy white bathrobe around her body with fluffy slippers on her feet. Both hammers on the weapon were indeed cocked and knowing what I know about hunting shotguns like this the triggers were pretty darn light. Her eyes were narrowed as she took me in, and the frown on her face looked to be carved in.

I swallowed but gave my best 'oh-shit-I-might-die-but-lets-be-polite-with-the-woman-holding-a-gun-in-my-face' smile. "Good evening, ma'am."

A bead of sweat sprouted on my brow and slid down my cheek.

Her etched frown curled into something more mocking. "The most gentlemanly thief I've met thus far."

I arched an eyebrow. "This... happen often?"

"No. The last man who tried to break in was over a decade ago." She tilted her head to the side, "I killed him. Ain't ever been anyone foolish enough to come back since then, though I guess even the warnings of dead bodies fade away with time."

"Well, I am new to the area, so I wouldn't have known about the dire warnings, ma'am." My smile tightened a touch.

"So, what are you here for, breaking into my ex-husband's place like this, hhhmmm? You don't look like the nazi trash or druggie tweakers," She made a small show of looking me over, "If anything I'd say you are rather finely dressed for someone skulking around these parts."

"Well, do you want the crazy truth or a poorly constructed lie?" This was an incredible gamble, but from her words, she wasn't Empire affiliated (not that a woman in her 80s would be in my estimation) and hates druggies; not Asian so no ABB sympathies, not that there would be ABB sympathizers so far through the Empire-controlled Shantytown area.

Her lips pursed together. "The truth, obviously, young man. With the world a madhouse as it is whatever cockamamie story you got for rooting around an abandoned trailer home in the middle of bumfuck nowhere can't be too far out there."

"Well, I'm homeless for starters."

"I figured as much- must have been pretty recent; wife kick you out and take all of your shit?"

I blinked. "Ah, no, actually I didn't have a home to begin with. I was a Security and Wildlife Control Head for a drilling project in Alaska under Exxon. I got on a plane to come home at the end of my year-long contract and ended up in Brockton Bay."

Her head nodded a bit, the old woman considering my words. Despite the weight of the weapon in her scrawny hands, it didn't waver for even a moment. "My cousin was an oil rig worker in Oklahoma and Texas. Hard, hard work, but it paid well. I can't imagine your pay was any less. Where is your money?"

"I did the smart thing and invested it, saved some in cash for liquidity, and purchased a nice little house in Nashville."

"Well, if you have a house in Nashville then why are you 'homeless' in Brockton Bay?" She asked the obvious question.

I pursed my lips and thought over my next few words. As much as I wanted to not open my lips and let out this information, all I had on my tongue was the truth; I knew a fair amount of Earth Bet, but I didn't have a mind on me that could fabricate a story while a double-barreled shotgun was almost kissing my sternum. Old woman or not, she could pull the trigger far faster than I could push the barrels away, and from her face she was too old to give a fuck about the possible repercussions of her actions- what would the police do if they found the kill unjustified? Throw an old woman in prison?

"I'm not from this earth, as crazy as it sounds."

Her wizened face scrunched up. "Earth Aleph?"

I arched an eyebrow. "You mean... there are other Earths known here? That should be hard to believe, but considering you've got full-grown adults walking around the boardwalk in spandex looking like comic book superheroes I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

Her jaw worked a little bit and she tilted her head sideways like a bird, her dark eyes probing. "You got any proof?"

"My phone and my wallet," I offered up, "I got my state IDs, my old military ID, credit and debit cards, and photos and stuff. I can show you if you'd like?"

She nodded slowly and I made a show of slowly pulling my jacket from off of my duffel bag and reaching into coat pocket with two fingers and grabbing my wallet from it; the thing had a fair amount of cash in it and was quite thick- that was the main reason I never kept it in my back pocket. I pulled out the ID cards and credit cards and slowly held them out to the old woman who tucked the stock of the weapon up underneath her arm in a fashion that allowed her to keep her finger on the trigger while her free hand snapped the cards. She looked at them for a moment and fanned them, her dark eyes sliding over them calmly while she kept me in her.

"Tennessee driver's license... issued... October... 2021? Wells Fargo Bank credit card... issued 2020?" She spoke out a few more cards before handing them back over to me, "Boy, it's the year 2011; January 4th to be exact."

I winced, "Trust me, I know. I saw a newspaper."

She blew out a loud huff before she finally pulled the weapon away from my chest. "You ain't here to cause no trouble for us folks here?"

"Absolutely not, I just want a place to stay and to-"

I felt the Forge spool up and it latched onto the constellation that had swung by closely- the moment the fires reached out and gained purchase I knew what had been selected.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 1.0140 - Huragok Ally - 200CP - Assistants - Halo - UNSC]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 150 CP remaining.]

"Oh shit," I muttered as a felt space fold in behind me and my connection between myself and my Huragok Engineer snapped into being. Why couldn't you have popped up in the warehouse!?

"'Oh shit, what', young man-?" The barrels of the shotgun swept up immediately, and I moved my face in front of the weapon, thankfully she didn't pull the trigger, "I'm only going to ask you one time, what the fuck is that?"

I swallowed thickly and slowly turned my head to look at my new Companion.

Neutrally-Buoyant trilled musically and raised one of its four tentacles to wave slowly, its sinuous snake-like head twisting like a corkscrew as its six beady black eyes took in its surroundings. The Huragok was wearing armor that I remember seeing being worn by the Engineers from the ODST game when it was under the Brutes, the plates glowing softly blue in the light.

"Uh, that's my companion? He's part of my... powers?" I turned my gaze back to the old woman who'd somehow managed to tuck a cigarette in between her lips and got it lit when I was distracted; the biddy taking a deep pull off of it.

"So, you're a Cape, then?" Smoke curled out of her mouth as she spoke.

"I've been one for all of twelve hours, yes." I responded with a brittle smile, "If that's what you call the uh, people with magical powers here."

A violent snort escaped her lips, the breeze carrying ash away from the slowly burning cherry, "Ain't nothing magical about Capes, boy."

Neutrally-Buoyant burbled a little bit and twisted in place before taking off with a little 'poot-poot' from its propulsion sacks and slowly drifted off away from the living room into the kitchen. "He dangerous?"

"Uh, no. He's an Engineer. He floats around and fixes things. Dislikes violence and is very docile unless someone starts messing with him," I responded quickly with my smile becoming a little less brittle, "He wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Uh-huh," She muttered, the cigarette bouncing around her lips, "You like Nilbog?"

"I don't know who that is," I lied easily, and I relaxed a little bit leaning off to the side to free up her view so she could observe Enbee as he pooted around the kitchen, picking up little objects with a happy series of squeaks and bleeps as his tendrils picked them apart and put them back together again in a matter of seconds. I cleared my throat and his head rose up and twisted over his armored hump to look at me from upsidedown; his six eyes closed in what appeared to be joy as he waved at me again with a tentacle. I chuckled and waved back, "Uh, stay inside please, Neutrally-Buoyant. Don't wander around out back."

He beeped and waggled the tendril before pooting off to examine the plastic card table, its four feathered tendrils sliding over the surface of it as if it held the very secrets of the universe.

I chuckled a little bit before I realized that the old lady still had her double-barrel pointing at my companion. I inhaled sharply before I nodded my head at the cigarette held between her lips, "It's been a long day... you mind if I get one of those?"

She reached one hand down into the front pockets of her plush bathrobe and pulled out a pack that she tapped against the shotgun until a cancer stick popped out of the small hole in the paper pack; she tucked it between her fingers before dropping the pack into her pocket. The unlit end of the cigarette was placed against her cherry and she pulled on it sharply before handing the barely smoking cigarette to me and I grasped it between my fingers before dragging on it quickly.

The acrid smoke filled my lungs and I held it in before exhaling with a pleased sigh. I'd quit smoking almost four years ago, and while I promised that I'd never start again I feel like this would be a pretty good reason to start back up again; if I was going to die on this hellhole of a world it wouldn't be because of lung cancer.

Besides, smoking was a social activity, and while it didn't make the old woman lower her weapon it got her to relax just a little bit.

"Nilbog was some Cape that took over a town out west; some sort of flesh-Tinker or whatever. Killed the whole town," She muttered.

"Well, if you unleashed my friend on a town the worst that would happen is that all of the town's electrical problems and stuff would get fixed," I murmured with a smile, taking a drag and holding it before letting it go, "He's not even made of flesh anyways; sort of a... metallic lifeform? Like, living metal?"

Enbee let out a long poot and floated over toward a wall clock that had been cracked, and as its tendrils ran over it the quadrillions of microscopic scilla that made up its feathered tentacles swept over the cracked plastic covering, and when its tendrils had removed the cracks were gone. It then lifted the clock off of the wall with an inquisitive hoot and the back of the clock was quickly disassembled before it was put back together and gingerly slipped back onto the wall.

She sighed and lowered the weapon, "Oh, what the hell. Fuck it. If I'm to be killed at 84 by some crazy bio-tinker then I guess that's what will be."

I arched an eyebrow and she pointed the shotgun off in a safe direction before lowing the hammers, "Come on, come with me, boy. Let's sit down and discuss this over tea; I'm tired of holding onto this damn thing."

She turned around and walked down the rickety steps of the front porch, "Well? Are you coming?"

"O-oh, yes ma'am," I nodded and whistled as I gestured to Enbee, "Come over here, Neutrally-Buoyant. Let's go."

The Huragok nodded his long slender head and twisted in the air with a few little 'wooshes' of gas before he gave a short poot to drift in my direction. I held out my arms and he grasped onto them with two of his tendrils, "Come on, grab onto my shoulders, let's go, buddy."

His tendrils were slimy and not. Like a naturally lubricious material that didn't leave a residue. Enbee's long neck slipped over my shoulder and he trilled lightly.

With a grin, I followed after the old woman and she pointed at the thick underbrush that separated her property from her ex-husband's property. "Through the woods, until you can't go any further, then stick close to the retaining wall, boy; should keep you out of sight, not that we have that many prying eyes around here."

"Yes, ma'am," I spoke out, and just before we parted ways, the woman toddling down the gravel road while I stuck into the underbrush, she spoke out.

"You said he can fix things, right?"

"Yeah, he can fix and understand pretty much anything if he can take it apart."

The old biddy flicked her cigarette onto the gravel with a huff, "Good, because my toaster stopped working two days ago and I'd kill to be able to slather some butter onto my bread again."

As the Forge touched another small node I felt my smile become more genuine. Maybe things were going to be just fine?

[Attempted Re-Forge: 10.0100 - Magical Ore - 100CP - Everyone Else is a Returnee - Magical Small Scale]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 150 CP remaining.]

Special thanks to Lmc9389, Xodarap4, Artillery, DrkShdow, AuraofCalm, Zerak, Mioismoe, Zath, Splendid, D. Wongsonegoro, Darkarma, Acrimonius, T. Balewood, Randall Randall, Dominyx Black, CyberCrisis, Blue, Russ Stilter, and Legion_13 for being Patrons!

You guys rock!

Access Key (Personal Reality) Free:

This is a special key that lets you access your Personal Reality and its contents.

When inserted into any lock on any door, the door opens to reveal a gateway into your Reality at a predetermined location within it. You are the only person who can take the key from the lock, the gateway remains open as long as the key is in the lock, and if key is ever lost or stolen you will find it in your pocket a few minutes later. You cannot close the door as long as you are inside the Personal Reality.

Entrance Hall (Personal Reality) Free:

This is the room your Access Key opens a door to. It starts off as a 5-meter cube with blank white walls, floor, and ceiling, as some doors, one leading to the current Host Reality, the other into your Cosmic Warehouse, with additional doors leading to other extensions as these get added to your Personal Reality. Feel free to customize this Entrance Hall as you see fit. Additional Halls can, at your discretion, be linked only to certain keys or only to certain extensions. This allows you to have an entry hall just for skiing if you want.

Rare Material Cache (50CP)

It's unlikely to be useful anywhere else, but just in case, this cache contains 10 kilograms each of several Lightsaber-resistant materials: beskar, phrik, ultra-chrome, and refined cortosis. The metals are ready for use in crafting or modifying equipment. The cache also includes a modest quantity of other exotic materials, such as precious gemstones, technologically useful non-Force-imbued crystals, and organic materials like krayt dragon hide. The material is replaced yearly.

Peak ADVENT Technology (XCOM 2) (200CP)

Before you defected you were working in some of the most top-secret black projects any human had access to. You have an encyclopedic knowledge of all ADVENT technology, minus some of the genetic manipulation techniques and basically, anything that would give away ADVENTs dark secrets.

Schematics to Time (Generic Video Game Developer) (200CP)

Wasted time is a serious problem for just about any company. And while most managers might think it's because John took an extra 5 minutes for lunch, the real-time sink is the direction a project ends up going, as sometimes you go down a rabbit hole trying to fix a problem and take a while to get on the right track, such as looking for a bug in the wrong part of the code. But for you, it's different. For you, every time you settle down to work you get on the right track. From looking for bugs in the right section of code to researching the right function for a problem, your work is now more of a straight line, taking no detours and going down no rabbit holes. If you have a problem, you'll always start in the right place.

I Can Whip Something Up (My Life As A Teenage Robot) (100CP)

Working late nights and filling out strange requests is just another Tuesday for a Scientist of your caliber. This perk ensures that you'll never suffer burnout, grow overly bored, lose inspiration, or have your work suffer because of exhaustion. So long as your basic needs are at least barely being met you can keep happily churning out work day after day.

Engineering Basics (Dead Space) (100CP)

You're a real Mr. Fix-It, y'know? Malfunctioning fuel intake? Easy. Faulty asteroid defense cannon? Turn it off, then on again. Non-responsive communications array? Shuffle the working emitters around a bit so they're symmetrical. Undead monstrosities? Depends on what you mean by, "fix." Does using a rivet gun to blow them apart count? Yes? Then we're good.

Auto-Factory (Starbound) (100CP)

A room full of various arms and other tools, this factory is designed to be programmed with the blueprints for any item that you know how to create, allowing for raw materials to be fed in from the ship's storage, and be turned into whatever items are programmed into the factory. Warning: Only items that run on purely mechanical/scientific principles can be made here. If something requires magic or more esoteric energies to be created, it will require your personal touch to actually make, though individual parts could still be crafted by the factory. Can't make items bigger than the room itself, though it can build the pieces for you to put together yourself later.

Huragok Ally (Halo - UNSC) (200CP)

Something of a surprise and most definitely an attention-grabber, a Huragok is supposed to be one of the members of the Covenant Homogeny and has normally been seen only in their presence. Yet Huragok, also known by those in the UNSC as 'Engineers', are primarily pacifistic and dedicate themselves purely to repairing and working on any technology around them. This particular one seems to have gotten lost and ended up deciding to follow you for the sake of making sure your technology was functioning. Aside from melodic whistling sounds that sound slightly similar to Earth whales, Huragoks communicate using either sign language with their tendrils or through text messaging thanks to their penchant of being biological supercomputers. Huragok are highly prized for being able to fix almost anything they touch, and you should expect a lot of questioning if someone spots you with one.

Magical Ore (Everyone Else is a Returnee) (100CP)

What is a smith without some metal to work with? Equipment plays a large part in this world, and a craftsman can only do so much without good materials. Luckily you happen to have a large storage box filled with lumps of unrefined ores of many varieties. The rarity and valuability of these ores range from normal iron all the way to precious ores of heaven, with the quantity of the ores being inversely proportional to their value. As you travel to future jumps, this box will update to include for the various ores you encounter. I hope you have some way of refining and forging them. Each month, the box will refill.

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