PierceGrey
patreon
Chapter 251: The pan to the fire
🕑 Added 2024-04-30 14:00:08 +0000 UTCBlake failed his Animate attempt for the second time and kicked the iron door.
"Ow. God damnit." He glanced at Pliny. "Any luck with the key?"
"Not yet, human friend. But getting closer." The strange but intriguing creature was intensely focused on his task, and Blake thought it best to leave him alone.
It turned out the 'key' was more like an 'Arcane Decoder' than a piece of metal that turned a lock. The entrance to the engineer leadership was a complex, mechanical and magical marvel, protected from pretty much any kind of mundane meddling.
Blake expected to learn a new rune or three, at least, if they ever got the damn thing open. But something was blocking his attempts at True Making, or indeed any kind of magic at all.
"Navi—any luck?"
He'd sent his familiar to identify every part of the door and wall constantly for any change or weakness. So far the three of them were 0-3.
"Nothing, Master. The door remains protected from identification of any kind. I think it would require a powerful de-enchantment to remove that protection."
"Yeah. Can't do that. Can I?"
"No, Master. The wall, however, is simple stone, maybe five feet thick, and doesn't seem enchanted."
Blake grit his teeth and stared at the wall.
"OK. Fuck it." He yet again activated True Making, this time to destroy. He wasn't sure how much time or mana it would take, but if they couldn't open the door, he'd dig straight through the bloody stone.
In fact, he almost sent his constructs to start bashing before he spared a glance at the others.
Apparently goblins were swarming everywhere. It was a bit hard to see in the gloom and chaos, but it seemed to Blake a veritable army of engineers was blasting at Mason and Rebecca with a delightful array of nastyness. He winced, and glanced at the silent girl beside him.
"Annie, go help them." Sending her to Mason seemed maybe not that wise, considering his penchant for danger... "Stick with Becky. Do whatever she says."
The generally unstable girl just nodded like he'd commented on the weather. Then she extended her arm, and a very violent, very demonic looking…axe, formed in the girl's tiny hand.
Next to her petite, cute, and yes attractive little frame, the contrast was ridiculous.
But she took off running like she meant business, and Blake tried not to think about it too much, commanding four of his five constructs to follow. He focused on the wall with half of his Partitioned mind, ready and watching the constructs more personally to join the swirling melee.
True Making started and instantly made progress, cutting chunks of stone in steady waves, vanishing it into nothingness. Blake grinned.
"Navi—go find Mason and tell him it'll be four, er...five minutes, then we're through."
"Yes, Master." The orb floated up and shot into the dark, and Blake smiled at the useful servant. But he also really missed his Professor X chair.
*
"Master Mason! Master Mason!"
Mason cut another engineer in half and ran to relieve Streak. He had no idea what or where the voice was coming from, nor did he have the time to figure it out.
Streak, apparently, was leaping back and forth from robot to robot in his disturbing form. He was ripping hoses and getting the things to shoot at each other, still seemingly having a grand old time. He was also soaked in his own blood.
Mason whistled and ran for the players, and Streak abandoned his game of robo-hop to chase after, shifting back to his wolf form as he did.
The voice kept chirping but Mason continued to ignore it. He saw Becky and Calypsa were hard pressed between him and the door, trying to hold a swarm of goblins from cutting them off.
Mason ran to join them before the cowgirl put her shield to the side and ran straight at a pack of goblins.
"Stay back, y'all!" she shouted, and having seen her in action, Mason sure as hell did.
She body checked her way into the creatures as spears and nets bounced and sizzled. Then the air seemed to suck in towards her, and an arcane power blasted with as much as that exploding cannon. Everything in a good fifteen foot radius around her got covered in blue light, then mostly vanished.
'Mostly' because bits of junk and goblin lay scattered everywhere as Becky came jogging back.
"You see that? Best one yet." She was all smiles until she saw Mason's mangled arm up close. "Oh Mason." She covered her mouth with a hand.
"It'll heal," he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure, glancing back at the fresh wave of pursuers on his tail. "Don't suppose you can do another round?"
Becky shook her head. "I’ve got my wall. But they've been drainin' me, and that blast used what I had left. No juice, and no build up. But I got plenty of shield left, so I can hold 'em off."
Mason was about to say they needed to fall back when Blake's floating orb dropped directly in front of his face and screamed.
"Listen!"
Mason stopped and stared at the thing's scrunched up, angry face, and when it noticed his attention went instantly happy again.
"Master Blake says the door will be four, no five minutes. That was fifty-two seconds ago."
Mason was about to say they didn't have four minutes when he heard his brother's statues clomping towards him. Plus Annie.
"Blake says I'm to do what Rebecca says," said the little read head, a giant and rather frightening looking axe in her small hands.
Becky raised an eyebrow, and while Mason inwardly told his brother to go fuck himself, he just shrugged. "OK. Let's kill goblins for four minutes. Then we run for the door."
Annie looked at Becky as if for confirmation, and she looked back and forth. "Uh yeah. Do what he said."
The constructs (plus Annie) charged straight on through a hail of gunfire, electrified nets, and splashing cannisters of acid and fire.
Mason glanced at his already itchy, healing arm, seeing bone and flesh extending slightly as it stitched itself together, building itself anew. He grinned.
"Let's go."
*
Einstein was right. Time was definitely relative, and the next four minutes of Mason's life felt like a very long time.
He weaved between Blake's robots, charging out to slash apart anything that seemed to be shooting something that could actually hurt them.
Then he'd get peppered and splashed and burned by a hail of weapons, and run back to hide behind the constructs. For a moment he really wished he knew where his bow was. And also that he had two hands to use it.
Annie attempted no such cleverness. Instead the redhead ran from goblin spearman to goblin gunner, spraying blood and dropping corpses in her wake. Becky followed, babysitting the girl with her new ‘aegis’.
Calypsa mostly waited with Mason, apparently healing him whenever he gave her a moment.
"It's not necessary," he said, spitting blood. And apparently a tooth.
"You're taking considerable damage," Calypsa said. "And we'll need you fighting again soon."
Mason didn't put up a fight. His body was a throbbing wound, though Transformation was working hard, and Mason saw carapace-like plates forming all over.
Still, he took a moment to breathe and heal, and as he watched the progressively stronger other players fighting, he realized they were catching up slightly in power. He needed to use them more, rely on them more, and the thought took at least a little weight from his shoulders.
No matter how it felt sometimes, he knew he wasn't alone. He didn't have to rush headlong into every danger anymore.
On the other hand, maybe he still should. His progress felt like it had slowed considerably, though he imagined that was largely by design. Even so, were there other players with less allies, focused entirely on their own improvement? And if so, would they surpass him? And did it really matter if they did?
Mason grit his teeth at the thought. He wanted to think the psychopaths like Nassau's first patron were dead and gone, beaten by players and leaders who worked together with real trust and loyalty.
But that just wasn't how life was. Not in the short term. And the idea of coming across some maniac who'd grown too much for Mason to handle, and what such a player might do to the people Mason loved and meant to protect...then the thought: what would the great killers of history have done with superpowers?
Mason realized in that moment he really only had one choice: to get there first.
To become the Genghis Khan of killers in the new world, just to keep the other Mongols in check. He had to make sure everyone knew what happened if they chose a world where the strong preyed on the weak. They lost to him.
He'd finally readied himself to charge a new batch of gunners when Blake's little construct chirped in his ear.
"The door is open! The door is open! Master says come quickly!"
From the pan to the fire, Mason thought, but it was certainly welcome news. He called for the others to fall back, and made his way to the door.
Comments
JL
the little read head -> the little red head
Jacob Bissey
Yeah, securing a door is WAY easier than securing the walls, and if someone put THAT much focus and attention on making sure the door is immune to any conceivable attempt at unauthorized entry, then it's practically guaranteed that the wall was ignored entirely. People tend not to think of walls as points of ingress or egress, especially when there *are* doors and windows present, so someone determined to get into or out of places would be well served to start thinking of them that way. That is both true in fictional settings with magic and superpowers, and in real life, I have seen apartments with steel, reinforced doors that have a dozen locks and deadbolts on them, and walls that are basically *just* drywall. For those who may be unaware, you can pretty easily just smash your way through drywall using your bare hands, I *recommend* using a tool, as you're likely to damage your hands in the process, or in the absence of a tool, using your shoulder as a ram since that'll get less damaged than your fist, but bare hands will work.
