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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 2 - Settling In

A/N: Snakey-boi is the best boi. I also have to make up words to describe his outbursts because he's just so expressive for a Huragok. He's seriously the best.

[Jason Wilke]

[January 4th, 2011]

"So, you're one of them 'Tinkers', eh?" The old woman grunted out as I stepped in through the back door of her double-wide and into the kitchen; from what I could see this trailer had the exact same layout as the trailer up the hill. Neutrally-Buoyant trilled eagerly as the snakey-boi's head twisted around and looked, the tentacles wrapped around my shoulders beating an eager tattoo on top of the duffle bag slung across my middle.

I nodded at her question as I tapped my boots off and then scraped them across the rough plastic astroturf welcome mat and stepped inside, my movement pulling Enbee inside with me; it felt like I was dragging behind me a particularly large balloon, but the balloon was my buddy. My friend. My closest companion.

There would probably be many Companions and possibly friends in the future, but no one would have the same place in my heart as the goodest boy ever. "Uh, if you mean that I have some technology and schematics and stuff pumped into my melon, then yes, I guess that would make me a Tinker."

I tilted my head, "Enbee, be a dear and shut the door behind us please."

He let out a little 'pplbbbtt' and nodded his head as we stepped through the threshold, the Huragok grasping the doorknob and pulling it shut behind us. I even heard some tinkling, and when I looked the little bugger had disassembled the lock and tinkered with the insides before putting it back together again in the span of a couple of seconds; the lock clicked shut with nary a whisper. The old woman watched with an arched eyebrow. "That lock has been sticking on me for the past few months; I'd just given up on locking my back door- don't have enough cash on me to call a locksmith to replace it."

She worked her jaw and moved through the kitchen to unplug a beat-up stainless steel toaster and sat it on the island with a dull 'thunk'. "Hey, bagpipe, come over here and fix this, will ya?"

The Huragok whistled musically and I could hear him inhale from... somewhere on his body, and he floated up a few inches and tried to float over my head; his bulbous back, covered in dark-black armor thunked against the top of the doorframe. His head and neck wriggled like a snake and his tendrils reached out, but with me in the way he couldn't move forward; a snort escaped my lips and I cracked a smile because it sort of reminded me of a big kid keeping something out of reach of a little kid.

Enbee made grabby tentacles at the toaster.

"Hold on, buddy, let me move out of the way first," I chuckled as I stepped forward into the kitchen and grabbed the armor of his harness to drag his hump underneath the doorframe. He gave me a thankful 'ppllbbtt' and hummed to himself as his tendrils wrapped around the toaster and he lifted it up into the air, examining its every surface before placing it back on the island. Enbee looked at the old woman and motioned with a tentacle at the open sink, the five other tentacles coming up and making some twisting and wiggling gestures.

It looked like nothing at first, but in the back of my mind I understood it as a unique form of sign language. I blinked. The old lady blinked. She looked at me. I looked at her. Enbee's tentacle reached out and tapped my hand insistently and that knocked me out of my state of shock. "Oh, uh, Enbee's asking if you have the uh, sink covers. To give him some working space; the island doesn't have enough space and he needs it to work."

She sucked her teeth and nodded before pointing towards a cupboard up on the wall over the cooking range. "Up there boy, they're heavy though; I haven't had enough strength in my arms to pull them out in years, so I just left them up there."

"Alright, well, if you'll just pardon me, ma'am," I murmured as I dropped my bags near the door and slipped past her to get at the cupboard. There were some other things, like wax paper, saran wrap, aluminum foil, among other things, but it did indeed have what I was looking for; I pulled on the rounded rectangle that was about one foot wide and two feet across and heft it down carefully. The damn thing was solid granite and had only a small hole in the middle to stick a finger in so that you could lift it up; probably only weighed fifteen or twenty pounds, but that was a lot for some people- I remember my mother was in her 60s and she would struggle with something like this if she had to just use her arms and shoulders.

I turned around and carefully set the sink cover into place, and it fit seamlessly. I'm certain that it looked beautiful for presentation, but it was a big turd functionality-wise. Enbee bobbled his head excitedly and the Engineer started to get to work.

I was knocked out of my trance as the old woman tapped my shoulder with an unlit cigarette between her middle and index fingers while a cheamo gas station light was pinched between her thumb and index finger. "Ah, thanks."

"No problem," She muttered as she puffed on her own cigarette while I lit mine up and hand her back the lighter, "You look like you could use it, especially with all of this craziness being new to you."

Neutrally-Buoyant was waggling in mid-air, the artificial servant of the Forerunners happily disassembling the toaster with great zeal; little toots and poots coming from his flotation bladder as the device lost its cover, then frame, then the internals. The wire heating elements were brushed over by its scilla and decades of caked-on carbon were removed as if it had been nothing but dust. The electrical portions of the system had the protective wire coatings stripped, the copper wiring was unwound and then re-braided; the cable sheathing was put back on and then placed down.

Everywhere the Huragok's feathered tendrils touched seemingly lost age; bits of rust were flaked away, carbon buildup removed, tarnishing was wiped off like a spot of grease by a towel, and everything looked cleaned and polished. Then the whole process was done in reverse- screws were torqued, joints and plastic tabs were locked back into place, and even the small metal rivets were put back in without the aid of a riveter. Once the faux-wood plastic shell was put back on the damn thing looked brand-spanking new, and Enbee blurbbled happily as he hefted it up in his tendrils and presented it to the old lady.

All of this occurred in the same amount of time it took me to take two drags of my cigarette. "Fuckin' A. I knew you were fast, buddy, but it's one thing to know it... and whole 'nother thing to see it. Good job, Enbee."

I reached out and patted his snakey head affectionately, and the best boi's eyes closed as he soaked in the feeling of my fingertips brushing across the strange texture of his skin; it looked to be a cross between snake hide and tortoise, but it was perfectly smooth despite the bumps. The old woman took the toaster and plugged it in while Enbee started rapidly signing. "Oh, ma'am? He says that he fixed the wiring and the heating elements; you should probably drop it down from a 7 to a 3 if you're looking for a golden brown instead of burning it."

She fixed me with a glare as she plugged it in and reached inside the cupboard to grab two slices of bread. They were tossed in, the spring lowered easily without a sound, and I could hear the ticking of the small internal clocks as a warm orange light glowed from the heating elements. After about twenty seconds, or two drags from my cigarette later, the toast popped up and the toast was indeed a perfect golden brown except for where the basket was holding the bread. She pulled out a plate from a drawer next to the sink and slathered a heaping helping of butter onto each slice before sprinkling a touch of cinnamon and sugar.

She took a bite and a pleased sigh escaped her lips. "Ah, yes. To think that I missed this for two whole days."

I smiled a little bit, and was about to speak before the soft droning of a bell rang out through the trailer eight times with a soft 'cuckoo' following behind it. I heard a soft 'poot' behind me but ignored it in favor of looking around the rest of the kitchen.

"So. You're not on your earth anymore and now you got powers," She spoke out as she finished off the first slice and picked up the second, "A mighty unenviable position to be in, young man."

A tight grimace scrunched up my face, "Yeah, it is. I can't do shit about it, so the best I can do is go with the flow and improve my position. It's why I was looking for a place to stay until I can at least establish some sort of identity. Then? Then I can go from there to figure out what the hell I'm going to do."

"Well, as long as your little friend goes around and fixes all of the broken shit I got around the house you can stay here for a little while; I got a spare bedroom that my granddaughter uses when she comes out to visit every once in a blue moon," She gestured to Neutrally-Buoyant and I tracked her fingers and saw the Engineer disassembling the clock and then putting it back together before drifting over to some curtains on the wall that had a tear in it; his feathered tendrils reached out and swept over the yellow cloth and... the yellow faded and became a pristine white again, the cuts, tears, and abrasions on it disappearing right before our very eyes.

Holy shit, how much smoking did this woman do in her house? This was why I never smoked indoors; the nicotine and smoke and stuff just turned everything nasty colors.

"Hey, Mr. Fix-it," The old woman called out, and the Huragok twisted its head to look at her, "Do you need the power turned off for any of this? I can flip off the circuit breaker for the night; it's cool but not enough to need my heating."

She looked at me, "In fact, once it gets really dark, take him out on the roof and have him look at my AC units, will ya? The window units too."

I couldn't help but crack a grin as she smirked behind her cigarette, "Of course, ma'am."

"Speaking of you, I don't believe we've introduced ourselves," I held out my hand and offered it to her, "I'm Jason Wilke. Despite our rather lethal first impression, I can say that it is indeed nice to meet you."

"Tiffany, but you can keep calling me 'ma'am'," Her tone was teasing, "Don't hear too much of that these days; one day the world got powers and then suddenly everyone lost their minds. Rampant crime, show-baiting blowhards in tight spandex, and a glorious golden bastard flying through the skies like the second coming of Christ."

Her tone was venomous, and I arched an eyebrow inquisitively as I finished off the last of the cigarette before stamping it out in the ashtray. "A golden bastard running around? Er, well, flying around? He like, Superman or something?"

"Oh, so you have Superman where you come from too? Well then, if you're at least familiar with comics and all that nonsense then you'll at least have some form of footing here. Though get rid of the 'comic-book hero' mindset; the little turds running around out there aren't afraid to get lethal; some villains will monologue at you while others will just kill you outright if given the chance," She shrugged, "Or at least that is what my granddaughter tells me. Something about Thinkers being jabber jaws and Blasters and Brutes being quick to end a fight."

The Forge grew hot and I felt it reach out and touch a small star from the 'Protection' constellation and pulled it into my orbit; the 100 CP perk joined my other Perks as they rotated around the Anvil in the center of my nebula.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 2.0030 - Strategy Trance - 100CP - Brockton's Celestial Forge - Protection]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 150 CP remaining.]

I felt it reach out towards another passing constellation, but it was too weak to grasp onto the perk that drifted by it.

My eyes glazed over for a moment as I considered the new perk. This thing was damn powerful, and I was quite surprised to see something like this be available to me; was Brockton's Celestial Forge merely fanfiction? Or was it something more? The fact that it had its very own Perk made me think that whatever it was he had accomplished since I last read a chapter of the story must have been grand enough to warrant giving him something I would assume was an honor.

I dropped the trance and regarded Tiffany, "So, a golden flying man?"

She rolled her eyes and turned around to grab an electric kettle as well as two teacups before she went to the sink and filled it up to the bare minimum fill line. With the kettle on the plate, she hit the button and pulled out a cardboard box of lavender tea, and sat two of the triangular bags into the cups. "This is going to take a while, so I'll give you a reader's digest version before I go off to bed. We can talk more in the morning and I'll give you a ride into town; a trip to the library wouldn't be amiss- I don't have dial-up or anything like that here at the trailer, and they just don't show documentaries on the Discovery channel anymore."

"The History Channel stopped running documentaries on the whole Advent of Capes thing a few years back; they only want to do in-depth Hero biographies these days, phaw!" She crossed her arms under her chest as we waited for the water to boil.

I looked back at Enbee and the Huragok was in the middle of taking the couch apart right down to the wood frame and the springs. Then those were taken apart as well, the bubbly floating alien hefting up each section of wood, tack, nail, and screw up to his many eyeballs as his scilla removed imperfections from the objects before sitting them back down. With a little hoot, he started to put the couch back together, and it was like watching a time-lapse photo as his tendrils sped around and put everything back together again; even the cushions weren't spared the Engineer's tender mercies as the foam was pulled apart molecule by molecule and restructured back into its original shape.

Within eight seconds the couch was put back together and with a little 'poot' he was off towards the old 90's era television set.

I looked back at Tiffany and she was grinning broadly before she noticed me giving her an amused smirk, "Enough of you, boy. I just like the way he toots all over the place. He's really too adorable to be an abomination."

I couldn't help but laugh as I leaned up against the counter, "Oh, I know. He's the best boy in the whole wide world."

It was a bit surprising to see the Huragok lift the 30-inch television up without any apparent issues, but he had no problems unplugging the cord and moving it in front of the couch to find some floor space before he began his joyful disassembly.

"Well, as long as he doesn't interrupt me while I'm taking a shower I think we'll get along just fine," She muttered, but there was no heat in her words. The old woman grabbed the kettle and poured the water into the cups to steep the tea leaves before ushering me over to the newly rebuilt couch while she sat down in the reconstructed armchair. She sat down in it with a sigh, "Ah, dunno how he did it, but this baby feels brand new; the only thing it's missing is the smell!"

I grinned and sat my teacup on the coffee table, only to pause when Enbee took the coffee table apart; he looked at me with three of his six beady eyes and tweeted at me as his tentacles twisted into a dozen different signs. "Yes, yes, I'll wait, buddy."

The table was reconstructed in less than four seconds and he tittered a thank you before pooting off across the living room to pick up an old radio. Ten seconds later the radio was put back onto the corner table and he plugged it in and turned it on, his tentacles fiddling with the antennae and knobs at the same time before it found a station. He kept the volume low and then puttered off elsewhere.

Tiffany's old eyes blinked and she smile wanly, "That was my mother's radio; she purchased that from the Sears Catalogue in 1934 when I was just a babe. It stopped working around thirty years ago, and I haven't had the funds nor the desire to get it fixed."

She inhaled sharply as the smooth tones of the jazz began to play, the sound was incredibly crisp, something on the level of what I would have expected a premium speaker to sound like today. I wasn't surprised though, that was just how Huragoks did things- they were pseudo-biological supercomputers that had stored within them the plans of the Ancient Forerunners, and when they came across a structure not only did they fix them up, they made them better if the material was capable of it. The scilla on their tendrils was capable of pulling materials apart was the molecular level and then putting them back together again; somehow they could even mimic the chemical or metallurgical reactions needed to put things back properly.

If you had a shoe that needed to be fixed, then it could disassemble the shoe and then put it back together exactly as it had been previously; right down the adhesive on the bottom. Though everything was guaranteed to be much better than before. If there were things like dye and pigment that were limited on the shoe and started fading, the Huragok would shift the pigment and dyes towards the fibers on the surface and could lock them in place.

It was utterly astounding; if we gave Neutrally Buoyant four hours he could probably strip the whole trailer down to the support posts on the frame and rebuild it until it was better than new. He wouldn't even need help moving heavy things around because he would just take them apart into smaller pieces that he could move around and then just zipper the molecules back up together, no problem!

"Though that sounds a lot better than I remember it sounding," She murmured as she brought her teacup up to her lips.

I mirrored her and picked my own cup up, "That's what Enbee does; he doesn't just fix things, he makes them better if he can."

Tiffany let out a sigh, "Well then, let's get on with our chat, shall we? It all started back in 1982 when a man with Gold Skin was seen hovering over the Atlantic ocean-"

The little history lesson was unique in that it was told from the perspective of an old woman who watched the world that she'd spent 50 years of her life in explode with the advent of superpowers and the Endbringers that later followed them. She touched on some of the more boring historical points, but a lot of her time was spent on seeing paradigm shifts occurring within society as governmental structures rose and collapsed under the question of 'how did a government govern in this new era?'.

It was incredibly biased, but I found it very entertaining. The fact that I found it entertaining did bother me somewhat, as all of the shit that had happened since Zion's appearance was directly a result of him and his damn Shards infesting the planet; countries rose and fell all over the world, and even staples like the Chinese Communist Party were destroyed and their remnants subsumed by the Chinese Union Imperial, or the CUI.

The mention of the Chinese Imperium tickled the back of my mind because the fuckers had no issues with kidnapping capes from various nations around the world and then brainwashing them into service; of course, they never poached prominent capes, because that would needlessly escalate into all-out war, but independents and rogues were fair game in their opinion. I don't know if they had any reach as far east as Brockton Bay, but even with the completely antagonistic relationship between the Lung's Asian Bad Boyz and the CUI, I wasn't going to discount them completely.

Contessa and Cauldron might be able to make them run around in circles, but I was incredibly vulnerable at the moment. Until the problems were dealt with, I was going to treat pretty much every criminal element as if they could kill me outright if I stepped wrong.

Tiffany, the old biddy, loosened up the longer we spoke, and by the time 9:30 PM rolled around the old woman was all smiles. Though she quickly hid that smile behind a false scowl and told me that I could take her ex-husband's trailer and use it for my base of operations, though if anything blew up she'd have my ass.

During that whole conversation, we both watched Enbee toot and poot his way around the entirety of the house, the Huragok happily tearing everything apart and putting it back together again with his little head bobbling away to the jazz music playing from the aged radio. The entire living room, kitchen, carpets, and probably a whole bunch of other things were fixed and it looked like the area of the trailer we were sitting in just rolled fresh off the assembly line. I asked about the possibility of discovery and she waved me off.

"I told Chester and his spawn that if I ever caught them near my house again I'd shoot 'em. Daryle figured he would test the limits of that nine years ago and I sent him to the ER with some birdshot in his ass. Pretty certain there are still some BBs he feels every time he sits down to take a shit. So as long as your bubble boy doesn't fix the exterior of the house he should be fine."

When I brought up her granddaughter she shook her head again, "She ain't visited in almost a whole year, and I doubt she'll be coming any time soon. If she does I can just say I had some boys come in and fix the place up on the cheap in exchange for a few favors of some of the girls I know at the library; men will spend a lot of money, time, and effort if it means they get to go out on a date with one of my girls."

Turns out she was once the Head Librarian at the Brockton Bay Central Library for something like forty years, and she just retired three years ago when she could no longer make the daily drive into the city anymore.

Tiffany told me I could sleep in the guest bedroom until I had the trailer at the top of the hill taken care of, and before she went to bed she cautioned me again to let Enbee out only at night and to stick to the woods.

With the sun having firmly set hours ago, I grabbed Neutrally Buoyant by the tendril and dragged him outside of the house where he flitted over everything around the house; the meter reader for the electrical, water and gas were inspected - which Enbee found to be improperly adjusted and high- and the gas valves were serviced as well as the connectors.

I don't know who did the inspections for this, but ' Inspector Jay Abrams' is an asshole; the Brockton Bay utility guy had the readers out of tune by almost thirty percent!

Whether it was from negligence or him just being an asshole (or if the city of Brockton was overcharging paying customers to make up for all of the squatters stealing utilities) I didn't know, but now Miss Tiffany was only going to pay the proper amount; the best part is that it looks exactly as it did before, with the tamper-wire on the reader still in place!

After the external Heating and Air Conditioning boxes were taken care of I gently tugged Enbee up the perimeter of the retaining wall and through the woods, though it was super fucking dark so I tripped more than once. My Huragok was the best Huragok to ever have lived because he was quick enough to see me tripping and caught me; the mad lad able to inflate his sacks and give me just enough positive lift to adjust my footing before I ate shit.

Once we made it back to the double-wide I gave him clear instructions to strip off the paneling on the exterior and set it off to the side. For everything else though? We were stripping the bitch down to the studs and completely repairing it all.

Neutrally Buoyant did the vast majority of the work, but with the pair of leather work gloves I brought back with me from Alaska I was actually able to help. All I did was move the panels around and heft some of the heavier stuff, but the two of us worked like a well-oiled machine. Between his amazing capabilities, my understanding of his sign language, and judicious use of the Strategy Trance, Schematics to Time, and Engineering Basics to better plan the tear-down of the entire double-wide trailer? We had that bitch stripped and put back together again in two and a half hours.

Two and a half hours! That was fucking insane! Sure, we barely lost any of the back deck due to fact that Enbee could literally rearrange every single carbon molecule in each plank of wood to be utter Forerunner perfection; the wood that the Forerunners used for decorations? That super genetically perfect wood? I had that for my back porch. It was fucking great, and I was grinning from ear to ear as we walked through the place; this trailer, aside from the superficially rusted exterior steel panels, was showroom ready and could be put up on the market.

It didn't have water or power turned on, but I figured we could take some of the piping that was laying out in the junk field behind the trailer and run an illegal connection towards Miss Tiffany's pipes, and we could probably do the same for power as well; the usage was measured at the readers, so if we tapped into the utilities before then and kept everything underground then it would be incredibly easy.

When I asked Enbee if he could fashion proper 100 amp cables from all of the junk laying around he gave me a pitying look and pat me on the head. He signed out that simply by arranging the molecular structure of the wires just so he could take any bundle of wires and make them capable of transferring that amount of power; with the gigajoules that the Forerunners were able to throw around for every tiny piece of equipment they made such a thing would be child's play.

While we had been working the Forge attempted to reach a star from the 'Crafting Biotech' constellation, but I was 50 CP short, so it just carried on. I had two and a half charges already now, so there was a good chance I could get something nice next time.

It was only midnight by the time we finished, and feeling inspired Enbee and I found a mixture of metal and PVC pipes, but the Huragok grabbed steel parts and turned it into powder right next to the powdered PVC. While he worked I moved throughout the junk field with my cell phone's flashlight and picked up junk that he thought appropriate. In the end, we came up with a one-and-a-half-inch diameter pipe that was exactly long enough to connect to where we needed it; though it was less a pipe and more like a strange metallicy-plasticy slinky. The steel was the core, threaded into an ultrafine but sturdy mesh using some Forerunner molecular structures that even my Engineering-self had to scratch its head at; I could see and understand, but as to how it worked I wouldn't have been able to tell you. The slinky had a millimeter thin coating of PVC on the inside and outside of it to prevent anything from corroding, and when I asked about whether or not we needed a conduit to keep it from getting crushed the Horugok once again looked at me like I was a small child and patted my head indulgently.

Within ten minutes we had some sort of weird steel/copper/various traces amounts of random metallic particles bundle of wiring that was thickly insulated and ready to go. He fashioned me a shovel out of a blown-out engine block and we went into the woods to start digging the line. With Neutrally Buoyant's tendrils, he was able to penetrate and deconstruct the dirt and stone, clearing a two-foot deep path that I was easily able to scoop out with my shovel. We worked like a horse and a plow, except in reverse; he tilled the soil and I scooped it out of the way. It still took us an hour and a half to move everything around, and even with the easy work I still had to stop and take breaks every once in a while.

We routed the power cable and water slinky through the woods and around the retaining wall before getting down to her water and power connectors. That was when we both forgot that the house needed natural gas too. Thankfully Enbee had forgotten too, and it was ridiculously adorable to see a Huragok facepalm.

We hustled back up the scrap field and fashioned out a similar gas slinky, though this one only had PVC on the exterior. I didn't bother to ask whether or not the multi-metal braided cable he made would leak because I didn't want to be looked at like I was retarded by my Companion again. Thankfully there was more than enough room in the dugout for the extra slinky, and we ran it back down next to the water and electrical hookups. I did question the wisdom of placing the electrical next to a natural gas hook-up, and the Huragok rolled his whole head before signing out. "W-o-n-t. B-r-e-a-k. T-r-u-s-t."

We dug underneath the conduit piping for the electrical and added a little bit extra to the bottom; they'd have to do a full excavation in order to find out our little jack-in job. The water piping was done the exact same way and the same with the natural gas hook-up on the other side of Miss Tiffany's Trailer.

We relaid the soil, and Enbee's tendrils slipped down deep and began firming the soil back up. Around each one of our slinkies and the electrical power cable, he built up a waterless concrete conduit out of the clay in the soil. This time I pulled him behind me by two of his tentacles, one twelve-inch step every ten seconds; he'd build up the conduit and then would sweep the dirt back into the hole before firming it up. It took us twenty-five minutes to make it all of the ways through the woods and back to the trailer and we moved around to the spigot at the back of the house and turned the water on.

It took some time for all of the air in the water slinky to be pushed out, but when it did it was a thing of absolute beauty. The flow rate left a lot to be desired, so between the two of us, we were able to drag a 55-gallon oil barrel from the junk field to the house and fed the water connection into the top of it to give us a reservoir to draw off of while the connection kept it topped off. One of the random pumps I found in my searching was chosen to be deconstructed and reconstructed into a design that Enbee found fitting, and we attached it to the barrel.

Though to be fair I acquiesced to his demand that the barrel be re-shaped into a rectangle with some odd geometric shapes at the top... and at the time I thought it was just his desire to bring some Forerunner flare to our project, but instead, the completely refashioned pump fit right into the seemingly random geometric shapes like it was meant to.

Spoiler alert: It was.

We turned the water back on and the water barrel, which had been given a PVC film a tenth of a millimeter in thickness but was applied at the molecular level, started to fill up. Once the barrel was filled we flipped on the breakers after running the power cable through the wall to it, and then the pump hummed lightly; it was so damn quiet I had to ask whether it was working at all, and Enbee grasped the water spigot and opened it up- water shot out at nearly four times the flow-rate. Hot damn this was so fucking cool!

We moved through the double-wide trailer, of which everything had been fixed and turned on every light in the place as well as the extended 80-gallon hot-water tank. Did we need 80 gallons of hot water? I didn't know, but it was always better to have more than less.

I turned to Enbee and held my hands out, and the Huragok grasped them. "Okay, on three we are going to throw our tendrils, tentacles, and hands up to the sky, shouting out, alright? You ready buddy?"

"One." Our metaphorical hands went up and down.

"Two." Up and down.

"Three! Fuck Brockton Bay City Utilities!" I shouted out, knowing full well that the Trailer would keep my roar of defiance and rebellions- as well as Neutrally Buoyant's toots of joy- quiet as can be; we might as well have installed sound dampening foam on every wall.

I felt the Forge rumble to life again, as if it was pleased with Enbee and mine's little foray into doing crazy cool shit with SCIENCE! We did the work of a whole crew, and we took an estimated two-day job and did it all in just under five hours. The whole trailer was broken down and reconstructed, the utility stuff made, the holes dug, the utilities jacked into, the holes covered, everything tested, and we even made a water barrel and pump. The only thing we needed to do was construct a janky-looking cover for the water rectangle complete with rusted sheet metal and we will be good!

My enthusiasm was dampened severely when I saw what I was 150 CP shy of earning.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 14.0210 - Uchiha Jutsu Archive - 400CP - Generic Naruto Fanfiction - Database Magical]

[NOT Purchased: Insufficient Balance: 350 CP]

I was a touch morose, but I knew that I would eventually see it again, which buoyed my spirits as Enbee and I built a sunshade around the water tank that would never be opened except by a cutting wheel with an exceptional grinding disc. Or several grinding disks. Okay, more like a plasma torch; it looked like a regular box with rusted steel siding, but that was a veneer- the actual cover was almost two inches of solid steel. It meant that if I wanted to service the thing I'd need Enbee to fashion some seams for me, but that was fine because it also meant that if anyone wanted to try and steal my shit they better put in some mother fucking work, boy!

It was about five-thirty in the morning when we made it back into Tiffany's house, and I took a quick shower in the guest bathroom before crawling into the blankets and laying down my head. Before I went to sleep I offered Enbee both my laptop, my cell phone, and the chargers for them.

"Take some time with this- make it the absolute best you can make it without changing the operating system that I'm using, okay? More efficient, more powerful if you can. Just... please don't lose the data, okay?" I reached out and squeezed one of his tentacles, as a lump formed in my throat, "The pictures, the music... everything I have left of my home is on those, so do be careful."

I hadn't realized that I had been crying until a tendril lifted and wiped a stray tear from my eye. His snakey head leaned down and bumped against my forehead, and I'm not going to lie, I reached around and grasped onto his armored squishy body and gave him a gentle but firm squeeze. The soft but long 'toot~' that escaped his inflation bladders set me off into a much-needed combination of tears and laughter. This lasted for a few minutes as his tendrils wormed through my hair and beard.

"Uh, this beard is pretty long. Could you maybe cut it close? One inch maybe? Style it so it stays down nice and good? Also, my hair is a touch long as well; close-cropped on the sides, with maybe three inches on the top?"

Neutrally Buoyant gave me an affirmative 'ppplllbbttt' and in less than a second I felt a whole bunch of hair leave my head and face; my once five-inch beard had been trimmed down to just enough to hide the little bit of babyface that I had, and the hair that was almost long enough to pull into one of those faggoty-ass top-knots you saw white boys with gauges wearing was now clean cut. I make fun of those dudes with those hairstyles because I once too fell into the belief that it would look good, and I rocked (or so I thought) for almost two full years before I realized that I looked like a raging douche-bag.

Might work for other people, but it didn't work for me; my head wasn't shaped right for it. Thusly, if it didn't work for me, then no one else should be able to use it either! I'll be like Kim-Jong Un when I rule this fucking world- all men will wear one of five approved haircuts, just like their Glorious Leader!

The joke injected some much-needed levity into my veins and I collapsed onto the pillow and let my hands run over my head and face. Everything felt right, but only a check in the mirror would tell. For now? Now was sleep time. I'd been running off of adrenaline practically since I touched grass in Brockton Bay, and the past few hours of tinkering was like a fugue, except I had complete control over everything that I said, did, and helped build.

Enbee was the SuperStar that made all of that work possible, of that there was no doubt. In the future, I would change that, not because I didn't want him to do work, but because I wanted to pull my own weight. I felt... useless for most of that; just holding heavy stuff and fetching things while my Companion happily did all of the work.

With that resolution firmly in my mind, I closed my eyes and went to sleep- doing my level best to not think about the library of cool-ass Uchiha Ninja Clan techniques that I did not have enough charges to get.

No. I still wasn't salty about that.

I was woken up by the feeling of the Forge warming as another charge bubbled to completion. Fucking-A! Really!? It's been like- I turned my head and grabbed my phone, which was resting on the bedside table, and clicked it; the screen was stupidly vibrant that even with the low-light mode enabled I had to squint to see the time. It was only 9:47 in the morning!

I rolled over onto my side and stuffed my face under the pillow in an attempt to try and lure myself to sleep.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 7.00400 - Handy Workshop - 600CP - Satisfactory-factorio Gauntlet - Facilities Mundane]

[NOT Purchased: Insufficient Balance: 450 CP]

I don't know what Factorio is, but if it was a 600 CP perk then it must have been pretty nice.

Ugh. Fuck. If I'm awake enough to do terrible puns then I'm way too awake.

I still laid in bed just a few minutes longer, hoping that I would conk back out, but it honestly wasn't meant to be. In the end, the call of nature and my bladder forced me to roll out of bed and I got up and stumbled into the bathroom and washed my face after relieving myself. I got a good look in the mirror and I had to say that Enbee would make a great stylist- the cats got an eye for what looks good.

I got dressed into my nice clothes, another button-up shirt- this one a solid dark blue with a tank-top worn underneath- with some tan-colored slacks and my nice slip-on shoes. Everything fit perfectly, from the shirt to the socks and the shoes. Did... Enbee alter my clothes? If he did I'll have to pat him on the head because a look into the full-length mirror hanging from the door had me looking crisp- if it wasn't for my small gut protruding just a little bit I'd look like a model for a fashion commercial.

For the first time since I arrived here, I willed the key into my hand and walked over to the bedroom door before inserting it into the lock and twisting it. As much as I wanted to explore my neat little pocket space and stuff I wanted breakfast more, so I grabbed my laptop and all of the assorted doo-dads that Enbee gussied up and shoved them into the Entrance Hall before sealing the door. I'd put Enbee in there before Tiffany and I left for the day; he'd already messed with pretty much everything in both of the trailers, so hopefully, he'd be content ripping apart the stuff in the Laboratory while we were gone into town.

I closed the door and removed the key. Checking my pockets to make sure I had my phone and everything else situated I walked into the living room to the sound of the radio playing, Enbee was floating in front of the television, watching everything the limited basic cable had with subtitles or closed captioning on. The old lady was in the kitchen moving around with a bit of pep in her step as he whisked what appeared to be some eggs in a bowl before pouring them out into a hot pan. "Ah, Jason, you're awake!"

She turned towards me and paused in her stirring, "Where is the scruffy-looking Alaskan Wilderness man? What did you do to him? Because all I see right now is a finely dressed city-slicker."

I grinned slightly and fought down the small blush that threatened to ruddy my cheeks, though I failed spectacularly. I don't think most normal people are good with compliments, and truth be told neither am I. Not in that overly annoying 'I can't handle compliments' kind of way though- just... in a normal way. "Well, it turns out that Enbee does hair real good too."

She glanced at Neutrally Buoyant from over her shoulder before turning back to the breakfast she was preparing. She cleared her throat. "Speaking of your friend there. What does he eat? Does he eat?"

I blinked and searched my memories for information on my Hurgok companion and was surprised to see that there was a lot more to them than just my brief knowledge of them. "Uh, he can draw power directly from the wall if he needs to; like I said he's more machine than organic- everything he has just mimics organic life. If you have something sweet that is high in yeast he would absolutely love you for it though."

My fingers stroked my chin, "If you have some rice then you can boil that up, toss in a few splashes of milk, a cup of sugar, and maybe six tablespoons of yeast and that should get him as happy as can be. The yeast helps create the gasses that fill his flotation bladders. As long as we give it some vigorous stirring and turn it into a soupy paste he'll be in hog heaven."

Tiffany nodded her head as she began sweeping through her cupboards to pull out everything we needed and I stepped in beside her to get to work. Our meal was finished well before the rice had been cooked, so we sat down and ate.

"Well, Enbee and I fixed up the trailer at the top of the hill already, got it up and running with water, gas, and electrical. The place is solid as a rock now." I spoke as I sipped on the coffee while severing a chunk of butter off the tray to slather onto my toast.

"Really?" her weathered eyebrows arched up high towards her hairline, "Where did you connect into? I didn't hear any noise or anything going on last night."

I grinned, "We tapped into the city utilities, no problem."

Greying teeth were shown as the woman's paper-thin lips were pulled back, "Good. Fuck the Brockton Bay utility company. Those fuckers are overcharging me, I swear."

I winced, "Yeah, the meters were not calibrated properly; they were charging an additional 30%, easy. Enbee and I fixed that already, and since the tamper-evident seal is still on it there is no way for them to prove that anyone messed with it."

"Heh," She huffed mirthlessly into her coffee cup, "Bastards. Make me a key when you get the chance, if I'm going to be your landlady then I might as well act the part. At least I won't ever have to fix anything, not with... En-bee around anyway."

Well, at least she was referring to him by name now. Though to be fair, she was probably stressed all to shit last night, I know I was.

I shuddered as I felt the Forge reach out again, this time it was victorious at grasping a star from the 'Vehicles' constellation. As the knowledge of what had just been added to my workshop entered my mind it seemed that I wasn't the only one who was suddenly not hungry- Neutrally Buoyant squealed in delight and pooted his way into the kitchen and his tentacles reached out and grasped my wrist and gently urged me to get up like a kid on Christmas morning. "I get it, I get it! Settle down, Enbee. We're not going anywhere until you eat. Miss Tiffany and I are making your breakfast right now, so be patient and wait."

[Attempted Re-Forge: 4.0040 - Hangar - 100CP - Ace Combat - Vehicles]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 450 CP Remaining]

The Forge spooled itself up and made a grab towards the Database-Mundane constellation and pulled it in. The knowledge hit my brain and I was floored. I thought the Hangar had been the best pick-up? No, it might have been the funnest pick-up, but this was objectively better, at least in terms of my direct survivability!

The Forge felt pretty smug, as if saying 'yeah, that was all me'.

I let it gloat because this was just too damn good.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 13.0080 - Strange Formula | Nitrimini - 200CP - Marvel Cinematic Universe Vol. 1 - Database Mundane]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 250 CP Remaining]

I was a bit surprised that the Forge made another attempt at the Database-Mundane constellation before it left our orbit, but the star it tried to latch onto was a pretty big one; I'd only seen the stars like that before in the beginning, so it had to have been at least 600 CP.

Regardless, I stood up and checked on the rice, and having seen that it was ready I poured in the milk, the sugar, and the yeast provided and began to apply some serious torque to the mixture to turn it into a whiteish-brown slop that only a Hurgok could love. Rather than plate it up I just grabbed an oven mitt and set it on the counter, and Neutrally-Buoyant blippered over and stuck its face into the mash, a small approving squeal emanating from it. "Ah, you like that buddy?"

The Hurgok signed to me with two of its tentacles an affirmative. I focused on my companion for a moment before speaking. "Enbee, you have the knowledge and plans to create a Lifegiver, don't you?"

"Plllbbttt, ppplllbbbtt, pppbblllllllttttttttt!" He sputtered at me while signing wildly.

So... there was some competition between the mechanical and biological sides of the Hurgok family line? The mechanical Hurgoks were by far the most prominent, being seen galaxy-wide, but the Lifegivers- the Hurgok that were solely focused on medical treatment for biologicals- were kept close to the Forerunner Empire's core; they were incredibly important, and because of that importance the Lifegivers tended to have over-inflated egos.

The Hurgok as a whole were patient beyond measure, but when roused they could display amazing strength; a Hurgok once threw the Elite Jul 'Mdama like he was a fucking ragdoll when he went to activate a malfunctioning Slipspace portal despite the gas bag's warnings of it being dangerous. To my knowledge Elites were like 400 pounds without the armor, with the armor it was probably closer to 500 pounds, and Jul 'Mdama was a fine specimen; probably 550 pounds at least.

Still, Neutrally Buoyant signed that he did have the knowledge from a parent that happened to be a Lifegiver, and he would 'sire' a new Lifegiver offspring because he knew that the Super Soldier formula would give me a great deal of added survivability on top of all of the other benefits that came along with it.

"So, what am I missing?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am," I turned to Miss Tiffany and scratched the back of my head before sitting back down at the table, "Well, Neutrally Buoyant and I are linked through my power, right?"

She crunched on her toast and nodded, "Go on, my granddaughter is a PRT Agent in the city, so I know more about Parahumans than most people do; to a certain extent anyway."

Oh. Oh. Oh. I closed my eyes and breathed for a moment. "I don't know who the PRT is beyond what you've mentioned in our talk last night, but I'm going to trust that you didn't give her a call to have me picked up by them."

She chuckled, "No, I haven't. Not yet. Though the moment you start fucking around with stuff that no mortal is meant to fuck around with it won't stay that way. Capiche?"

I nodded, "Sounds reasonable. I won't be going... Nilbog on anyone; seems very counter-productive to what it means to be a hero."

"Good, good. Now, what is this thing that had Enbee all excited, hmm?"

A sigh escaped my lungs and I slid my hands firmly onto the table. I fixed her with an earnest gaze. "Miss Tiffany, you've been very kind to me; other than our first encounter, but I really can't fault you for that, can I? We've only known each other for less than a day, but here you are helping me- someone dimensionally displaced and far away from... my own earth. That's a rare bit of kindness in any age and any world; even my own, where we didn't have superpowers or genocidal Endbringers attacking cities around the world."

"So for that let me say this: Thank you."

The elderly woman's expression tightened up a bit and she sat up a little straighter in her chair. "I don't know how things are here in the, uh, 'Cape Scene' or whatever, but even I know that giving away the full extent of your capabilities is foolish- however, you are probably my only form of human contact in this world that knows the truth about me and was still willing to help instead of just tossing me to 'Tha Gubmint' and trusting them to not screw me over."

I swallowed, "So allow me to return some of that trust. I am, I guess what you called me earlier- a, uh, a 'Tinker'. I get knowledge and plans and stuff like that, but I have hundreds of different fields that I can pull from, and over time I get to keep all of the knowledge that I've gained. It also provides me a laboratory space in a pocket dimension where I can do all of the sciency things that I learn how to do."

The key was pulled from my pocket and I stood up, motioning for Tiffany to follow me, and Neutrally Buoyant whistled gleefully as he rooted and tooted after us. I opened her front door. "Is this your front yard, Miss?"

She worked her tongue over her teeth. "Eeyup that is indeed."

I grinned, the feeling of excitement surging through my blood as I shut the door and then inserted my key. When I opened the door it revealed the 15m by 15m white-walled Entrance Hall, and beyond that was another door.

"What in Sam Hell?" Tiffany muttered as we stepped inside, closely followed by Enbee. The old woman ran her fingers along the wall, and having never done it myself I mirrored her movement, feeling the perfectly smooth... marble beneath my fingertips?

Neutrally Buoyant sucked up a fair amount of gas and hopped over us, the Hurgok pooting over to get to the door first and flinging it open; though the door handle didn't crash into the wall because he caught it with a tendril just as he did so. His head turned towards the doorknob underneath his scilla, but he shook his noggin like he was clearing his head of the distraction of the probably atomically perfect nob within his grasp.

The Hurgok pooted forward at light-speed, though light-speed for a Hurgok was just barely a jogging pace. Enbee trilled in delight as his six beady eyes gazed over everything that I had accrued thus far- and Tiffany and I stepped up to match him.

The Entrance Hall was the gateway to my workshop, and currently, it opened up into a slate gray workspace that was roughly twenty-meters wide, and on each side, it had numerous standing shelves along with plenty of sturdy shelving units hanging from the walls as well. This was the storage space for my raw materials, with the rare Star Wars mats on the left and the magical ore crystals on the right. I grasped Tiffany's hand as we walked after Enbee, though a bit more slowly than what the Hurgok could manage.

Through the next door we came into the room that had my toolkits stored within it, and taking up the entire left-hand section of the room was what looked to be a massive machine that was at least twenty feet tall, with catwalks surrounding it; on the right had side of the room were storage racks and shelves that were for the finished products. The Advanced Auto-Factory from Starbound was... truly a marvel to look at; there was no doubt in my mind from looking at all of the various gadgets, gizmos, waldos, and tools visible on it that this thing could build a literal spaceship if even enough time. The issue was that it needed the space to do so.

The space that I just got with the mother fuck'n Hangar from Ace Combat! Fuck yeah! I could barely control the grin that threatened to split my face as Tiffany gazed firmly at the mechanical monstrosity for a few moments longer before allowing me to guide her towards the Hangar.

Now, in my time in Afghanistan, I'd been in some hangars before, and this one was far, far, far nicer. The floor was polished concrete, the walls were white and ribbed with large steel girders that were packed with pristine white cushion insulation- though it was more for aesthetics than anything else- and sitting smack dab in the middle of this very beautiful structure was a cradle that sprung from both the ground and ceiling that had segmented cat-walks. The cat-walks looked like they could raise and lower themselves independently, and the closer we got the better everything looked.

Nestled in the cradle, which was meant to allow for off-the-ground maintenance of an aircraft to the point where everything could easily be removed off the airframe, was a big, beautiful, twin-engined F-15E Strike Eagle.

The only thing that made it more glorious was it had the full "Garuda 1" color scheme and tail-markings from my favorite Ace Combat game, that being Zero.

The sound of maracas, flamenco, and clappy things intensified as we drew closer.

Neutrally Buoyant tooted and chibbered joyously as he floated around the aircraft, the Hurgok going over, under, sideways... and under again; the snakey-boi sticking his noggin into the air intakes on the front before pooting around the back end to stuff his face into the exhaust ports. He pulled is head out and began rapidly signing at me. "Nope! No! Not yet! Wait till I get back from the Library with Miss Tiffany! I want to be here for this!"

He deflated a little bit, and I sighed. "Okay, why don't you give it a thorough look over, but don't make any modifications, okay? Just make a list of everything that we can improve with what we have on hand. Also, before we leave, get me an itemized list of everything we're going to need for the Lifegiver."

Enbee spluttered at me and I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. My eyebrow arched as I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, and I saw that he'd turned all of my settings back on; attached was a new message that was blinking from an app I didn't have on it before, but the square with Enbee's loveable face on it was more than clue enough. I clicked the app open and in plain text was a document that had every itemized change and upgrade he made to my electronics, including the Kindle that I hadn't yet taken out of my bag. He spluttered again and another message popped up with a list of every organic component he would need to build himself a daughter that he knew for a fact was going to grow up to be spoiled and haughty, just like one of his mothers. He had doubled the components because he wanted to make himself a son as well.

Well, he didn't put it like that, as Hurgok didn't think in terms of 'mother', 'father', 'son', and 'daughter' like humans did. He would have his tendrils full with just two offspring, but once we have better resources and more responsibilities he would create more Hurgok with his 'children'. He hoped that they would learn and grow quickly enough to acquire some knowledge that he did not yet have so the youngest of the family would have more data and viewpoints to work with; the pseudo-organic alien lifeforms passed down data from one generation to the next, so the more experienced the donors the more intelligent and learned the 'child' would be.

Included was a complete list of ingredients that I would need to procure in order to recreate the Super Soldier formula. Once the new Lifegiver was up and floating, as it were, then she could help me fine-tune and upgrade the formula to get it to Forerunner standards; he wasn't a Lifegiver by birth, so all of the knowledge he had was locked away in his code, but once the youngling was created she would be of great help. He predicted that not only could we remove the negative aspects of the Erskine formula, but we could probably enhance the positive aspects by considerable margins.

Considering Captain America could lift like 77 tons and catch up to a train running at 60 miles-per-hour any performance improvements, even small percentages, would already put me well above Spartans, to the point where I probably wouldn't need any of the SPARTAN-II augmentations, though having indestructible bones made from some sort of super-compound would probably give me a much-needed boost in performance. Though that was my limited knowledge of Cap, and it's probably more than likely that the comics greatly embellished his feats in the vast majority of their issues because while I could see Captain America throwing his super-special-awesome Vibranium shield through a tank (albiet barely) I patently refuse to believe he threw his shield hard enough to intercept ICBMs that were already a minute into their flight.

Tiffany was slowly walking around the aircraft, her weathered hand coming up to rest upon the smooth metallic surface of it. "Do you want to know something funny, Jason?"

"What?" I was distracted as the Forge spooled up and grasped out at a constellation as it passed, and it made contact, pulling it into my personal orbit.

[Attempted Re-Forge: 5.0060 - Cranial implants - 100CP - Warhammer 40k: Adeptus Mechanicus - Toolkit Mundane]

[Re-Forge Successful]

[Purchased: 250 CP Remaining]

I felt my brain compress ever so slightly, and it was enough to give me a bout of vertigo as the implant of a Magos of the Mechanicum was slipped into my skull. My eyelids flickered wildly, causing my vision to flash like someone was shining a strobe light in my eyes- the tendrils of the implant slithered through my grey matter, the connections being made in the span of a few seconds. Somehow, during that entire process, I didn't feel any pain, nor did I lose balance. There was a small trickle of blood that I felt dribble down my nose, but that was easily wiped away by the back of my hand, and I licked the blood clean if only to not have it stain my clothing or worry Tiffany.

[Boot Sequence Initiated...]

[Diagnostics... Green... 99.998% Optimal...]

[Would you like to adjust primary operating protocols, Magos Wilke?] [Y/N...]

I focused on the 'N' key and did my best to blink away all of the text that was now beginning to flow behind my eyeballs, and fuck that was a lot of text. I couldn't read any of it, but the Forge reassured me that once everything was finished installing I would be able to read it just fine.

"My ex-husband, the one I told you about? Well, he was a crew chief for one of these flying beasts. Though it was an... F-16? He loved it, every second spent working on these aircraft," Her slippers made nary a sound as she walked to the landing gear and rested her palm onto the front wheel, "When Parahumans came about the whole of the military saw a restructure, the Air Force included. Lots of people cut out of the services once they came around. Jerry was included among that number."

Shit, was Miss Tiffany a cougar? On the prowl for a hot young guy? That was like 30 years ago, and she's like... 83, she said? That means she was 53 when Zion showed up and ruined the whole world- or at least laid the foundations for the beginning of the end. Nah, her husband must have been one of those "I'm going to stay in until they kick me out" kind of guys; I could see it, especially if he loved aircraft as much as she was telling him.

She shook her head. "Well, I hope you know how to fly this thing, though the real question is how are you going to get it outside, and more importantly, how are you going to Cape with this damn thing?"

Tiffany smiled broadly as she thumped her palm against the rubber of the tire. I couldn't help but smile back and I walked over to take her hand.

"This is a lot of trust to show an old woman," She murmured, "But I'll do my best to keep your confidence, Jason. Something about some unwritten rules or some such tripe; the gangs never seem to care about it at all. Now, take me back so I can finish my coffee and then we'll go to the Library and do some shopping. You said you had cash, right?"

Neutrally Buoyant trilled and bobbed down as we made out way out of the shop, the Hurgok clinging to my shirt as my mind was filled with visions of flying in a mother fucking F-15E doing high-G turns like my childhood heroes- the Swat Kats. It truly was a shame that I can hardly remember the show at all these days.

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!

A/N: So, I had Tiffany's backstory all done up for this chapter, so when I got the Hangar I practically started laughing as this last section practically wrote itself. Getting the Hangar early will be a huge boon, and when combined with the Lifegiver Huragok and the Erskine Formula? Whoooo buddy we're in for some escalation!

Tune in next episode for an exciting trip to the library, along with some shopping for stuff!

Honestly, all jokes aside, the RNG aspect of this really has been quite enjoyable, and I'm digging the whole "reactionary writing" deal; it's all about accomplishing the given objectives with what you've been given, but what you're given completely changes how you write everything out. Gives it a unique flavor. This will probably be spun off into its own thread in a few days because I'll reach the 40k word cap pretty darn quickly at this rate- I stayed up all night to write this thing, though I was significantly delayed to family movie night so... 12k in just under 10 hours?

The free Jet is the only thing I'm taking from the jumpchain version. All of the "Lockers" and stuff that you saw in the Celestial Forge wont be happening, the MC needs to make things.

NOTE FOR HURGOKS: In Halo canon the pootie-bois can dissassemble and reassemble a Warthog in a matter of seconds. They are that good. However, when it comes to completely deconstructing something at the molecular level and then putting it back together that takes more time. For simple objects and the like that is less of a problem, but the more dense/complicated an object is the more time it takes. It is still blisteringly fast, but yeah.

Strategy Trance (Brockton's Celestial Forge) (100CP)

At will you may go into a trance in which your mind speeds up, your eyes glaze over and you start to instinctively analyze your current situation, any data points about your enemies, environment, your available powers, tools, and their uses. You can then use all that information to instinctively construct hypothetical scenarios of possible resolutions to the encounter.

After the trance ends you will have boosted competence to follow through with any plans you made within the trance, almost as if your instincts are guiding you.

The trace does not leave you defenseless, two things protect you during it, firstly a few external seconds of trance can be up to tens of minutes of internal time. Secondly, you will immediately wake up from the trance if you are attacked or if you would have wanted to be woken from it at any time for some other reason.

This perk is further boosted by any other mental perks you have and synergies and integrates aspects of all your mental perks to enhance the trance in some way or another.

Hangar (Ace Combat) (100CP)

Planes are fine when they're going through the air and dealing with enemies. But leaving them to the elements and the outdoors when they're not in use? Well, that just seems really crass. You need somewhere to store your vehicles and planes when you're not busy destroying anything that's not on your side, and that's what these establishments are for. It's not the fanciest thing in the world, but it'll serve its purpose and make sure your means for vehicular slaughter are in prime condition for their tasks. For an additional +50CP (Included in the above cost), these hangar bays also come equipped with special clamps and harnesses to make refitting and refueling any planes, go much more quickly than they would if you were using them by hand. For sea-based bases, this also means you have docks for boats and submarines.

Strange Formula | Nitrimine (Marvel Cinematic Universe Vol. 1) (200CP)

Strange Formula (100CP)

This chemical formula is the brainchild of the German scientist Dr. Erskine and is directly responsible for the creation of Captain America. As is, this is only the formula, and you must make it yourself... but as a result, it could possibly let you modify the serum for other uses. Beware its tendencies to amplify the personality traits of the user, or be prepared to find a way to fix that fact.

Nitrimine (Marvel Cinematic Universe Vol. 1) (100CP)

The formula for the chemical compound known as Nitramene, this compound has multiple purposes. A typical Nitramene bomb has a blast radius of five hundred yards after which it creates a vacuum that causes an implosion as matter rushes to fill the void that it has created, but a grenade of that size will do considerably less damage. On the other hand, Nitramene also emits low levels of Vita Radiation, which has a specific wavelength that has stabilizing properties.

Cranial implants (Warhammer 40k: Adeptus Mechanicus) (100CP)

The brain of every magos undergoes extensive modification over time, but you have put great care into preparing your mind for the Machine God's mysteries. Beyond the gene-alterations and bionic sub-systems that have boosted your intelligence, regulated neuro-chemistry reduces the influence that hunger, pain, fear and other flesh-distractions can have upon your thoughts. Your ability to enjoy these things are not impeded. Further neurological modifications will be faster and easier to adapt to with less worry of rejection.

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