Happy Harbor
May 23, 13:03
"A minute before you arrived, Dr. Desmond was contacted by an unknown party," Mike said. "The audio and video feeds were modulated and I'm working on decoding them as we speak, however, the person informed him of Superboy's rescue and Dubbilex's secret movements. They told him to fix things or suffer the consequences."
"Dr. Desmond assured the person that he would do so, mentioning Luthor by name."
I gave him an even harder stare. "He did?"
"Yes. After that, the doctor grabbed a sample of Project Blockbuster and went to the cryo storage room pointed out by the voice. When he arrived there, he ordered Dubbliex and the other Genomorphs to stop and return, but none of them listened. That's when he drank the serum and you know the rest."
"Hm. The rest…" I said and turned my bruised hands over.
"Tend to your injuries and send me a report. An evaluation of your performance will be delivered later."
My hand protested when I tried to give Batman a mock salute, so I settled for a nod towards him and the other heroes. Only Wonder Woman returned it before gently pulling on her lasso.
"I will be delivering him to Belle Reve."
'Might as well be giving him back to The Light.'
Keeping those thoughts to myself—no need repeating what had already been explained—I made my way back to the workshop with Mike in tow, the A.I. once again congratulating me on how I handled the situation. Especially my successful defeat of Blockbuster.
"I still can't believe I did it," I said, gazing at my trembling hands and forearms. I'd banished the candle flame from my mind, so I was feeling the full effects of my reckless actions.
Punching the equivalent of a thick concrete pillar (a low estimate, really) at full speed and strength even with super strength and some measure of durability had serious consequences, namely the excessive number of fractures and tissue tears I now had to endure and deal with.
Thank goodness for enhanced healing.
"I guess I'd always considered myself low on the totem pole when it came to outright duking it out. Superboy, if I recall things correctly, should be a hundred tonner at the minimum, and he struggled against Blockbuster most times. That was the notion I had going into this fight. I didn't even consider that I might win."
By the time I said that, I'd arrived at the workshop's entrance, and the door slid open to welcome me. However, I just stood there stunned, enlightened, and ashamed all at once.
Was this really the mindset of someone who wanted to be a hero? Who wanted to protect the planet? Someone who entered a fight with no confidence in themselves, not even the slightest hope that they might win no matter the odds?
I mean, one could argue that I was being factual. Superboy being a hundred tonner and struggling against Blockbuster meant me, a ten tonner, would be the equivalent of an insect before the thick skinned monster.
However, that itself gave rise to the argument of heroes like Batman, Robin, Green Arrow, and many others with no superhuman abilities. They contended with such threats day in and day out, and more often than not, came out victorious.
I had no excuses for my way of thinking. Not with the powers and tools I had on hand.
Again, I went over the fight and pinpointed the tactic that won me victory. It was taking away Blockbuster's sight and putting him in a world of pain. That and the candle flame allowing me to utilize my enhanced physique to the fullest.
Here I thought I had things figured out. Join the Justice League, learn from them, build stuff, prepare and gain experience for a few years, and then actually start enacting my goal. Turns out all the while I'd ignored a huge part of what made someone a hero; mindset.
I definitely understand MHA better now.
My mindset was in shambles, and such a glaring weakness making itself known out of the blue made me think of other things regarding my mind that I had ignored or was outright oblivious to.
What else was I unaware of that would come back to bite when and where it would hurt most?
The thought of my death, my mom, and the last words we shared instantly came to mind. Almost like a reflex, I lit the candle flame and the oncoming storm of agony and regret faded away.
Shame and self loathing joined the mix but soon got sucked away as well, leaving me an empty husk watching the ugly parts of myself I refused to confront from afar. I remained rooted at the workshop's door, a silent battle raging within.
This couldn't go on. This life was a second chance. The same mistakes I made in the past could not be repeated. I had first hand experience that they did not work. Avoidance of a problem never dealt with it.
Ignorance was bliss until it wasn't.
With great difficulty and more than a few seconds of struggle, I inhaled deeply, closed my eyes and doused the flame. Everything came crashing back like a wave and I clenched my shaking hands, hoping the pain of my bones shifting together would dull some of the soul searing agony.
Someone was calling my name. I focused on the distant sound and everything around me suddenly zoomed into focus. I was back at the workshop entrance and Mike was behind me, his hand on my shoulder and his robotic voice calling my name.
My eyes burned just like my hands, blurring my vision and contrasting against the coldness tightening up my chest. Slowly and stiffly, I hobbled into the place where I couldn't wait to see everyday, paying Mike's calls no mind as I went straight for a cold storage cabinet.
The pain in my body overshadowed by the one in my heart, I managed to open the cabinet despite the state of my hands. From within it, I retrieved an inhaler and used it, the potent cocktail of drugs washing away the pain and fatigue plaguing me.
A wetness flowed down my cheeks in response to the physical relief, and I ignored it and picked up a bottle of antiseptic. With the same stiff steps, I wiped my face with my sleeves and entered the restroom.
Paying the embarrassing view in the mirror no mind, I opened the faucet and washed and disinfected my hands. After drying and cleaning said hands and going back into the workshop, I grabbed some fresh bandages from a first aid box and sat in my chair, purposely facing away from Mike.
When I was sure he couldn't see me from the angle I'd chosen, I started wrapping my left hand in the bandages, and my efforts got interrupted by the tear droplets falling onto the soft cloth. It was then I felt a gentle hand rest upon my shoulder.
The tears flowed even more.
.
.
.
.
Happy Harbor
May 23, 15:19
Imagine that. I hadn't cried in so long I'd forgotten about the tiredness that followed a particularly long bout of it.
Sure, there was a tiny bit of relief hidden in there somewhere, but it wasn't enough to make me feel better about things. The same went for my abuse of the candle flame nor my fixation on becoming a hero and Shield agent.
But hey, I was no longer hiding. This wasn't about feeling better or feeling nothing at all, it was about accepting the cards life had dealt me.
I mean, even with the whole living in a comic world thing, one or two things still happened from time to time and they almost always managed to give me some form of culture shock, but I'd accepted it and adjusted to life here.
My powers, and the gambler were in a similar boat. It had taken a while, but I'd come to terms with my powerlessness in the matter of how the perks were granted. So doing same with my own death and the loss of my mother had to be possible too.
My eyes watered when these thoughts crossed my mind, and like always, my first instinct was to run to the flame. This time however, I fought the impulse and won, pretty easily actually.
One, because my tear reserves were running low and two, these memories causing me pain meant what I'd lost was pretty significant and had meaning. It is as Vision said, "what is grief, if not love enduring."
With a deep exhale and the hundredth wiping of my eyes, I centered myself and got into the mindset of work. Rather than being idle with these depressive thoughts, it was better to engage in something productive.
I reopened my eyes and focused on the empty space in the middle of the workshop. The essential components of the Zephyr were done. Meaning it was time to actually design it and figure out how it would look, where everything would go, you know, that sort of stuff.
"Mike," I said without turning to look at him. "How long till the projectors are online?"
"A minute."
I nodded to myself and waited, thinking about the Genomorphs and the offer I'd told Dubbilex about.
After my embarrassing display in front of Mike, I left to go get a breath of fresh air and recalled that I had an island Wonder Woman compared to Themyscira. When I arrived there however, I wasn't alone.
My first attempt at a getaway turned into a volunteering effort. John Stewart held aloft three shipping containers with his ring and was in the process of lowering them.
Apparently, they'd tried to contact me about finding the Genomorphs a place on the island but Mike had diverted all calls to himself. Inwardly thankful that he'd done that, I gave them a brief explanation of "personal stuff" and gave the go ahead for us to go deeper.
The Genomorphs couldn't live on the beach. And so with awe and a teeny bit of envy, I watched John Stewart support the entire weight of 216 Genomorphs, the Zeta-Platform, the shipping containers, myself, Batman, Guardian, and Dr. Spence.
When I finally picked my jaw off the construct, I asked John if he had any places he could recommend since he'd flown over the landmass earlier. He showed us a couple of large clearings and plains and the three of us—Dubbilex, Batman and myself—discussed what would best suit the Genomorphs and the League's needs.
There wasn't much on both sides really. Dubbilex and his people could live in normal houses and environments like regular humans and the League really had no urgent need for another secret base of operations.
That was Batman's opinion, not mine. I wanted to pitch my idea of a third base on the moon, one The Light would never know about, but I kept quiet due to the time and place being inappropriate and the fact that my ship wasn't done.
If we were really going to build a base on the moon, I wanted to be the first to travel there and set up things.
On the topic of getting my new workshop built, I told Dubbilex about an offer of employment but didn't give him the details, just that he should contact me when things settled down in the new city he was going to build with his kin.
It took about two hours to help him and his people unload the shipping containers and then the setup of basic facilities. At the end of the process, I felt much better than before, despite not having used the flame the whole time.
Secretly thankfully towards those that made this series of events possible, I returned to the lab and announced the continuation of the Zephyr project.
For that, we needed a larger holographic model than the holotable could create, so Mike had to set up projectors around the room. And he was finally done.
The world around me morphed into a galaxy of blue lines, stars and shapes as the holo projectors worked in concert to project what was essentially a super CAD system.
"Uploading blueprint…" his robotic voice echoed.
A huge 3D model of an airplane from the Cyberpunk data pad appeared in the center of the room, the couch-sized thing hovering in the air mere inches away.
Dozens of exciting thoughts flew by, but I ignored them all and swiped to the right, moving the plane out of sight. "That can wait. Upload the models of my bike and the speeder."
They appeared side by side a second later and I grabbed a hold of them, spacing them out a bit.
"Before we jump into the big things, how about a proof of concept. Start with something small."
"Okay," Mike said, his tone carrying hints of a question rather than a statement.
"Just watch," I said.
The first thing I did was capture the speeder and pull it apart with both hands. After that came the removal of the ugly, unneeded, and outdated components. The gaudy yellow body panels vanished into the trash and so did the turbofans.
When I finished with the mutilation and left the speeder hanging, I switched to my bike and performed a similar and thorough excision on it, the process actually hurting me a bit. I had put so many hours into my baby.
The wheels, a good chunk of the engine, and a lot of little connectors and parts disappeared for that one until I was left with two masses of vehicle parts. Now, it was time for the fun part.
"Microfusion reactor, electrogravitic flywheel, and plasma drive please."
Mike responded promptly and I grabbed one of the fresh arrivals, the plasma drive, duplicating it and shrinking the copy. I let one hang near the corpse of the bike and grabbed the repulsorlift component from the dead speeder.
Into the bike it went, followed closely by the reactor. I spent a bit of time reworking the already present internal components like power delivery to accept the new additions and finished in about fifteen minutes.
After that I grabbed the mini tractor beam component from the speeder and slotted beneath the bike seat. I pushed the seat back down and stopped there. I didn't want to get too invested.
This was just to test for what we'd be applying on a larger scale. If everything turned out fine, the proper development and polishing of the design would follow. For now, the nitty gritty details about the various safety, control and auxiliary components would take a backseat.
I enlarged the bike-speeder—just speeder, really—after giving the rushed design one last check and swiped, spinning it in place.
"Get what I mean now?" I asked Mike and swiped again, this time sliding it over to him.
He caught it and answered. "I do. Constructing this first will give us plenty of data that will no doubt improve the Zephyr's own design and creation process."
"Yep. That's done though. We're doing the Zephyr now."
*********************
1-10 advanced chapters on: https://patreon.com/MasterReigen