A funny question, if one might ask.

  Ya ever thought about pigeons lately?

  Dumb little birds, the lot of them. And right now, I have two bloody dumb pigeons trying their best to whack me with powers that dont even work on a hundred-ton mech. I press on the loudspeaker and taunt them, “ You can’t lift, bruh. Why are you even trying?. A guy like you should just settle down and have kids with the ugly bitchface beside you. Go start a family or some shit, raise some racist pinto kids”

  That got him angrier instead “Dont listen to him, darlin'! You’re prettier than any gal I’ve met when you mutilate those idiots in the ring!”

  With a hoarse voice, Cricket turned and looked to Storm Tiger with a valid concern on her face as she was clearly confused and didn't expect that “You think I’m pretty?” said so not in affection, but more of a… pure, undiluted I am going to kill you and wear your lungs like mittens energy.

  Ah fuck- More rom com nazi drama, give me a break- Storm Tiger realised his mistake in real time. His arm dropped. His whole body stiffened. A bead of sweat practically formed a perfect anime droplet on his temple.

  And after I diss them using ERB Hitler with some creative liberty changes of course, still, instead, the man just doubled down in his embarrassment and reall,y really tried to lift the SCV with his aerokinesis. It makes me wanna create a whole disstrack dedicated to this pigeonhead.

  Seriously…the dedication to stupidity is astounding.

  “Why aren’t you even budging a little!!”

  That’s how heavy the SCV is. Different types of SCV have different weights, of course. The initial models were smaller and far more durable, so they are a little heavier, while some of the scrap versions of SCVs, like Mira’s Marauders, were made from scrap, so the weight isnt as heavy since they ran on missing parts and whatever goes tech they can find.

  Storm Tiger moved first to lift me while I was chilling inside. Oh, he was trying ever so desperately, of course, not that I fault the man for trying. I just think it's all too silly, I mean…what in gods name are you thinking, trying to lift a hundred-ton mech with Avatar Ang's rejected powers? You know he tried to do that finger flick explosion, right?

  Things about explosions are…you really need enough oxygen and proper ignition to create a powerful blast. A pure windblast without any ignition? He doesn't get it at all. How do you tell a Nazi that he’s doing it all wrong?

  Ever the dramatic type, if you fail, try and try again.

  As if the very definition of insanity wasn’t taken into account and just…well,

  Try, try again? Not to mention he’s such a drama queen.

  “Why won't you lift!! Arrrghhhh!!!” shouting like a moron, still trying to lift me, I just let him. Not like I had popcorn to enjoy this..farce. As good as trolling a parahuman is, this is getting pathetic to watch.

  Dramatic types always lunged like they were in a movie trailer. He came at me in a streak of claws and wind, the pavement splitting under his feet as he bounded forward.

  Inside the SCV, I simply lifted one oversized hydraulic arm; I ain't even trying to be offensive; it’s more like a bored Asian dad raising a hand to stop a toddler from running into headfirst into the floor cuz you cant bailance your way on the couch properly like an infant., and dont you kid yourself, the man is a manchild throwing a tantrum just because he can't lift.

  Storm Tiger hit the metal with all the force of a guy who hadn’t done his research. The impact rattled the arm, sure, but mostly it rattled him. Again with that stupid claw move. It barely scratches the paint.

  He bounced back with the indignant shock of someone who just discovered the world wasn’t built for his convenience. I could almost feel his pride cracking louder than the armour plates if I even cared much, Nope. Not one bit.

  Cricket circled next. At least the girl knows her inadequacy and didn't try too much.

  She’s light on her feet like a gymnast, blades out, doing those quick, jittery movements that were probably supposed to look intimidating. She skittered left, right, back, and forward like a malfunctioning Harley Quinn.

  The SCV’s sensors tried to track her, got confused, gave up, and flagged her as a “moving hazard object.” Fitting, I suppose. I once read that she’s able to dodge bullets, too. That's kinda cool when you think about it.

  She darted in and slashed the leg assembly. Sparks flew. She probably thought she was doing something meaningful. From inside, it felt like getting tapped on the shin by an angry fork. Admittedly annoying, not remotely dangerous. Unlike failed Tigger over there, the girl at least got some sense to go for the servos.

  I nudged the joystick forward.

  The SCV stepped. One step. Just one, and she knocks herself into the plating.

  Ouch-

  Cricket scrambled out of the way with a noise I couldn’t hear but could definitely imagine. She moved with the frantic energy of someone who had just realised the thing she was stabbing had the weight and stopping distance of a bulldozer.

  Storm Tiger recovered enough to try again, whipping up wind and dust like he was summoning an ancient Aryan spirit or some shit, I dont know any Aryan lore unfortunately. Could make it into a nazi joke hah~!

  A dramatic gust slammed into the SCV, coating the visor in a fine layer of gravel. The machine vibrated a little, and that’s it.

  I tilted the bucket arm down and shook the dust off like a giant metal dog shaking rain from its ears. Storm Tiger’s expression said he hadn’t expected that level of disrespect from heavy machinery.

  Storm Tiger tried leaping onto the chassis, claws digging, but at this point I ain't even controlling the SCV anymore, just have the chair reclined back and set it to auto mode and idle. The machine automatically initiated a slow tilt manoeuvre, as if it were trying to shake a cat off a countertop as it fell.

  Storm Tiger fell hard.

  For someone with wind power, you would think you could just cushion your fall with wind power, right? Nah..too angry and too dumb to even think calmly in a fight. Gravity did the rest.

  Cricket rushed in again, blades spinning, and the SCV simply rotated its torso a fraction. She overshot, stumbled, and nearly collided with her own teammate.

  Somewhere behind them, the E88 goons who had been fighting earlier had stopped entirely. Half of them watched like it was a street performance. The other half recorded with their phones, probably wondering who would get more views: Storm Tiger’s attempt at mixed martial arts against a construction vehicle, or Cricket’s impression of a distressed kitchen utensil? Honestly? I dont know what her role is in this anymore.

  Can't use her sonic powers, can't even dent me with her special fork knife. Useless. Bet she’s feeling really tired of this shit, huh?

  A final shove of the SCV’s arm sent Storm Tiger sliding backwards across the pavement, tearing up asphalt as he scrambled for balance. Cricket froze mid-step, reconsidering every life choice that led her here.

  I settled the SCV back into a neutral stance, hydraulics hissing, servos humming, like the machine itself was sighing in boredom, but that’s just the auto idle mode and probably says something like “SCV Ready! - or - My cow died last night, so I dont need your bull” Those are some good quotes.

  The two villains stood there, winded, dented, and thoroughly humiliated by a machine designed to build prefab barracks and dig bunkers and scavenge metal. Definitely not designed to fight kung fu furries and shrieking gremlins.

  If there was ever a moment I wished the SCV had a built-in laugh track, this was it.

  I turned on the loudspeaker coms and mockingly said, “You done throwing a tantrum yet? Or do you need five more minutes?”

  Just in time, SCV13 rolled in without a hitch “SCV-Ready!”

  One of the E88 mooks got flustered as SCV 13 rolled in fast with its boosters and began doing minor repairs on SCV12, not much to repair since there isnt any lasting damage.“Fuck! There’s another one?!”

  Storm Tiger pushed himself up more slowly this time. Cautiously. His bravado cracked, leaking frustration and uncertainty. Probably bruised his ego, too.

  From the corner of my visor, a new cluster of movement caught my eye. Oh shit, it's the popo-PRT vehicles approaching, lights flashing, sirens muted but unmistakable. And Aegis flying and landing on the rooftop far away, acting like a good Boy Scout.

  They were still a ways out, picking their way through traffic, but they were coming fast. From the rooftop, I could see that a few people were coming here fast. Probably the heroes.

  Good. That meant I didn’t need to drag this farce out.

  Cricket turned her head, noticing the incoming response. Her posture tightened, jittering even faster while that bitch resting face turned panicked, several calculating thoughts probably whirled in her mind right now, the cold realisation that this fight wasn’t just pointless, it was unwinnable.

  Storm Tiger looked between me, the SCV, the approaching PRT convoy, and whatever pride he still possessed. His jaw worked, tension rippling through him, but the outcome was already written all over his face.

  He didn’t attack again. Neither did Cricket.

  “Empire! We fall back!”

  They both retreated, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, Storm Tiger’s aura dispersing, Cricket’s blades retracting as she darted back toward the maze of alleys at the district’s edge. The rest of the E88 mooks scrambled with confusion and bugger off to god knows where in every direction.

  They vanished into the mess of Capitol Hill like ghosts fleeing daylight.

  I could still see Storm Tiger glaring at me when he was about to leave, I just gave him the middle finger and wiggled it to just say..fuck 'em. Or fuck off, mate. The sun is almost setting anyway.

  The fighting had stopped a minute before the PRT vans rolled up with no style at all. Black and black on black.

  Storm Tiger and Cricket had already bailed, with Tiger limping and clutching his ribs, Cricket scrambling after him with that weird, twitchy sprint that doesn't resemble anything I’ve seen before, must be some sort of twitch. Judging by how fast they disappeared into the alleys, neither had any interest in round two.

  And if anyone asked why I didn’t chase them, I could? But I wouldn’t. With just an SCV? You’re highly overestimating this glorified Space builder. Its primary design isnt for combat but construction.

  I stayed in the SCV, hydraulics humming quietly, while the dust settled. When the damn backup finally arrived. Took them a while to respond. A whole 30 minutes since the conflict started. Someone reported it, and they act upon it. Civilian report? Maybe. Lots of phones around her,e even the ABB and E88 could have done so since they didn't want either group to go off scot free.

  Still not a response time I would wanna boast about though. It’s a bit late if you ask me, considering they only sent someone in a van, and their flier couldn’t even scout ahead properly since he’s still a ward.

  Battery touched down first, still sparking lightly. Miss Militia followed with steady boots-on-the-ground calm. Behind them came the Wards Vista, Gallant, Kid Win, and Clockblocker, all fanning out in practised formation. While Aegis was already here on the roof, giving them the sitrep.

  They took one good look at the knocked-out E88, the unconscious ABB, and the very confused stragglers who weren’t sure whether to run or pretend to be part of the sidewalk, and their postures all shifted the same way.

  What happened here? Miss Militia stepped forward. “Report J, how did you end up here?” while looking up at both SCV12 and 13 standing side by side, while SCV13 was still doing minor repair on SCV12, especially at the lower servos.

  I powered down the drill arm and pointed it toward the scattered bodies of some members of the E88 getting knocked out by cricket’s sonic attacks. In a way, the ABB got more loyalty since they carry their wounded. Nazi’s? Yeah..they Nazi’s.

  I dont even know what to feel about this since..hey, they are Nazi’s. Supposed to be the worst scum on earth, then again..Nazi’s oh boy…some of them are just racist pricks, but they have family too. Then I see shit like this, and I go…Ahh..right, as expected..Nazi’s..Umu..naruhodo.

  “Gang fight,” I said. “I stepped in before it escalated. Storm Tiger and Cricket showed up, made it worse, then retreated.” As I speak from the external speakers.

  Battery inspected one of the unconscious ABBs on the curb. “No fatalities?”

  “None,” I answered. “Just bruises. Maybe a cracked rib or two. Be right back, gotta check something. I said while dialling down the intercom and turning off the external speakers. It wasn't loud since it proximity proximity-based. Miss Militia nodded and went to coordinate with the rest of the PRT officers. “Thank you for stepping in. We’ll take it from here.”

  I nodded, shifting the SCV into idle mode. “They should be out for another hour. Maybe more for the stubborn ones.”

  While the rest of the wards muck around, still not noticing I was inside the SCV itself.

  Clockblocker whistled softly. “And this Dreamhack guy did all this in… that whoa.. that's a mech? Another one?” He gestured at the SCV.

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  I shrugged inside the cockpit. “It’s more of a construction machine.”

  Vista eyed the mech like it personally offended her sense of spatial stability.

  “It’s… big, and there are two of them,” she said carefully. Compared to her? Ya, it's big, around four meters tall. Twice the size of a marine. Almost twice the size of a Helbat or a Marauder.

  Kid Win pushed his visor up for a clearer look. “Definitely tinker-grade. No signature I recognise, though, but..Whoa, i- is that a plasma cutter?!”

  “I’m right here,” I muttered inside the cockpit, unheard of course since I didn't broadcast it on the loudspeaker. I could only smile at a ward fangirling about one of my creations…

  Gallant moved past, posture professional but calm, surveying the emotional residue like a medic checking vitals. “Nothing unusual for this neighbourhood.”

  Boots clattered on the pavement, followed by the heavy thump of PRT troopers moving with practised coordination, while I check some stuff on the holoscreen about the updates on my command centre. The Tech Reactor should be done any minute no,w when I heard those wards coming in to check out my SCVs.

  “Holy crap,” someone said. Cockblocker, if I remembered the file correctly. “Look at the size of this thing. You think it’s sentient like one of those A.I?”

  Kid Win circled around the mech like a kid studying a new toy. “No heat signatures around it. Systems are idle. What kind of metal is this?” His voice wavered with equal parts excitement and existential panic. “Do you have any idea how complicated it is to keep a rig like this balanced on urban terrain?”

  Clockblocker snorted. “You say that like it matters. I just want to know who names themselves Dreamhack. Sounds like a sleep disorder.”

  “Maybe its a gaming reference “ Kidwin said.

  “Oh yeah?” Clockblocker said. “What does it mean? Does he hack dreams? Does he hack while dreaming? Does he hack dreams so well the dreams lag?”

  Kid Win sighed. “I heard on Aleph/R thread on Pho that it's some sort of gaming sports festi-sigh. Why do I even try with you?”

  “Because you love me,” Clockblocker said cheerfully.

  Battery approached next, all business, gaze sharp but calm. “Whoever piloted this thing drove off two notable ABB capes. That alone justifies a tactical commendation. Console tagged the call: codename Dreamhack…and you do know he’s watching right, boys? He’s inside one of the mechs.

  Good. Attention achieved.

  The cockpit hatch swung open. I stepped out. Boots on the ground. Clockblocker’s visor locked onto me. Kid Win’s flight pack sputtered in surprise. I hopped down from the mech, boots hitting asphalt with a sharp thud just to shock them.

  Dozens of eyes widened. Did they really not see me enter the cockpit earlier? Battery glanced at me again. “You’re Dreamhack, right? The independent?”

  “That’s what they call me, Just J is fine enough,” I said.

  Clockblocker sputtered first. “You..You were inside that thing?!”

  I dusted my gloves off. Obviously.

  Miss Militia quickly composed herself, but her eyebrow gave her away, smiling or was it something else?

  Kid Win actually took a step back. “You… piloted it manually? No neural link? No harness?”

  The fuck is a neural link? Why the heck do you even need one for a builder type- ya know what? He doesn't know. It's fine…let it go.

  Battery’s charge dimmed as she recalibrated her threat assessment. “Everyone, meet J the newest independent Tinker working here on the Brockton Bay. ”

  I nodded. “That’s me.”

  The whole group recalibrated in real time, shock melting into intrigue, wariness mixing with professional curiosity.

  Clockblocker circled me like I was a rare Pokémon. “Wait wait wait, Dreamhack is just… a dude? A tinkery dude? I thought you were a really hot girl..could have sworn that smile was too pretty at the briefing a-and I didn't believe it when Shadow said you were a He… ”

  What…the fuck.

  Me? A girl? Eh?

  Do I look like a fucking femboy on a hoodie?! Why hasn't anyone told me?! I thought I was looking like a hobo~!

  Vista screamed at Cockblocker “Hey! Control yourself!” Vista turned to me as if embarrassed by her own teammate and tapped the head of Clockblocker “Sorry about him, he’s being unprofessional as always”

  I shrugged. “Not the worst things I’ve heard..wait, you saw my pics?” How the hell did they even get pics of me in my civilian form? Fuck. How?! With Shadow Stalker? Was it that time during the laundry thing?

  That was almost a week ago!

  That did nothing to soothe me. Even the PRT troopers had lowered their weapons only halfway, torn between relief and what the hell did we just witness. Miss Militia stepped forward, tone calm but eyes sharp to steer the damn narrative back to the gang again while glaring at Clockblocker. Aegis was on the roof, shaking his head, and Gallant just facepalmed himself.

  “I uhh..sorry?” rubbing his neck like he’s done this a dozen times before and didn't even feel the need to be embarrassed.

  Miss Militia coughs again. “J … you dismantled an ABB-E88 street clash alone. And then forced Storm Tiger and Cricket to retreat.”

  She nodded once, accepting that. “Your intervention prevented something worse. We’ll file a cooperative action report.”

  Fair enough, I suppose.

  Kid Win approached me with that slow, hesitant walk of someone trying to muster courage before the nerves faded. His visor lifted just enough for me to catch his eyes, and in them I saw the familiar frustration I see in kids I used to coach. The feeling of inferiority and embarrassment about themselves. This is one of those times, too.

  “Hey,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “Can I… ask you something? Tinker to tinker?”

  I gave a simple nod. No pressure.

  He exhaled sharply, as if he’d been holding his breath for minutes. “How do you figure out what your thing is? Your specialisation. Everyone says tinkers have one. I’ve tried everything. Weapons, armour, drones, and skates? None of them feels right. I feel like…” His gaze dropped to the floor. “Like I’m forcing it. Like I’m building blind.”

  I knew his specialisation. Of course I did. The kid wasn’t meant for single-purpose gadgets. His power wanted systems transforming and always ever shifting. The keyword was Modular. Modular platforms built to adapt moment-to-moment. But I couldn’t exactly tell him that without raising eyebrows.

  So I leaned against the warm metal of the SCV, letting the soft ticking of cooling hydraulics fill the space between us. Since SCV13 has been done with the repairs and remains Idle as well.

  “Try not to think too much and just enjoy the process.”

  He looked up, frowning in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “When you build something,” I said, “what part do you obsess over? Even when you don’t have to? What do your hands redo three times because it doesn’t feel right yet?”

  He blinked at me, thinking. Really thinking.

  “…I guess I always focus on the attachment points,” he said slowly. “Making sure stuff snaps on and off easily. I spend more time on that than the actual weapon or gear. I always redesign those parts.”

  There we go.

  “For me, my first idea was I wanted a drill, then I started making a drill, then I thought, it would be cool to mix a drill and a hand, so boom! Hand drills! Then I thought… It's a shame it's just a gauntlet. Why not build a mech? BAM! I built a mech with a drill! And so forth and so on..till you see these two baddies behind me,” I said while SCV 12 turned and waved with its drill hand, and SCV 13 waved with its plasma cutter hand just to prove a point.

  “Instead of treating your tech like final products, treat them as foundations. Platforms. Something meant to shift depending on what you plug into it.”

  Kid Win stared at me as I’d just handed him the blueprint of a universe he didn’t know existed.

  “A… reconfigurable system?” he whispered. “Adaptive gear? Modular…”

  He cut himself off, eyes widening behind the visor. A spark had caught. He stepped back a little, breath unsteady but energised at the realisation when his powers just clicked right.. “Thanks. Seriously. That… that actually helps. A lot.”

  He turned away slowly, almost in a daze, as if his mind had already sprinted ahead to a workshop filled with half-disassembled prototypes. Guiding tinkers without revealing foreknowledge was going to be a long-term challenge.

  Kid Win was halfway across the lot, still walking as if he’d discovered religion in the shape of a circuit board, when I called after him.

  “Kid.”

  He stopped immediately. Hope flickered behind his visor—hope mixed with confusion, because he hadn’t expected me to say anything else.

  I jerked my thumb toward SCV13, still standing there, newly minted, fresh off the Command Centre from 2 days ago, and I haven't seen a lot of mileage. “How would you like to own one?”

  I spoke into the intercom to Monica.

  “Monica, disable SCV13 protocol and reset it, save its digital matrix and transfer it onto a new SCV within the Command centre. Just build a new one and transfer it”

  Monica replied, “Acknowledge. Are you giving the SCV away?”

  “Affirmative, call it an early summer present to nurture a young Tinker so he can protect himself better, not like the PRT ever provides any armour for these kids, it's just costumes and bare minimum gear. Those PRT troopers here have more combat gear than the kids”

  I silently pinged Monica across my coms link using psionic communications with the tools I have in this pseudo Ghost helmet.

  Monica. After you strip SCV13 of all sensitive data. Pull the operational core, the personality matrix, everything that gives it bad habits or remembers my coffee preferences. Transfer all of it into the new chassis under construction back in the Command Centre, and install a blackbox program on 13. I wanna know how many holes the PRT has from the inside.

  Her reply came through instantly, crisp and efficient as always.

  Acknowledged. SCV13 data extraction in progress. Core transfer to SCV24 is underway. Blackbox programming initiation once the SCV is near the designated area.

  Perfect. I at least need to spy on Calvert without him knowing he’s got the upper hand on this. At least this is a way in. I'm sure they would probably find something, but with Monica, all your base belongs to me anyway. Super terran UED A.I with military spec programming. What can you do?

  “You want a head start?” I said. “Take it.” I gestured towards SCV13 as it powered down to reboot itself. “That one is all yours”

  For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t even try to breathe. The world around him seemed to freeze a little at what I had just given him. Vista pausing mid-lean, Clockblocker straightening up in surprise, Aegis muttering something under his breath. I would act like that too if I get a free mech when I was a dumb kid. Who doesn't like mechs? Boys will always have love for mech culture.

  Even the PRT troopers nearby went momentarily silent as if the absurdity of what I’d just said had short-circuited collective logic.

  Kid Win pointed at himself. “Me?”

  I shrugged. “SCV13 is yours.”

  I saw the exact second the words broke through the shock. His stance faltered, like he’d been caught stepping into a dream without permission. “You’re… giving me a tinker-grade mech. A working mech. A functioning working..woah..wha?”

  He couldn’t finish the sentence. The kid was trembling, hands hovering over the SCV’s side panel as though he was afraid touching it would make it disappear.

  Behind us, Clockblocker whispered, “He’s gonna pass out.”

  Vista elbowed him sharply. I just sighed. Kids will be kids.

  “Don’t get too excited,” I said. “It’s not just a gift. It’s homework.”

  Kid Win snapped his attention back to me, still stunned. “Homework?”

  “Figure out how it ticks. Reverse-engineer what makes sense. Don’t try to copy it sin by sin, use it to understand yourself better. Make another one if you can,” I tapped the chest of the SCV.

  “This is a platform. A canvas. Now think of something modular. Something you wanna add onto the mech that makes it better?”

  He stared at me. That spark from earlier had become a wildfire, he wondered why the hell did I even wanted to give it to him. He nodded, a shaky, reverent motion. But still grateful “I’ll take good care of it oh damn..Armmaster is gonna freak out.”

  “I expect he will, but he has his own toys. Now you got yours..”

  As he touched the SCV like someone greeting a sacred relic,

  Kid Win didn’t need a fully sentient construction unit following him around like a loyal dog. He needed a machine he could learn from, not one that would try to teach him how to build a supply depot just because it felt nostalgic.

  He walked alongside SCV13 with the cautious awe of someone escorting a baby dragon. The way he kept touching the plating, ot would have been funny if it wasn’t so painfully relatable.

  I remembered being that kid once.

  “Okay, so… let me get this straight,” he said, gesturing at the retreating mech. “You just gave him a robot. Like…like it’s a spare bike. A spare scooter.” Cockblocker said, still reeling at how generous I am, as he even muttered ”Dammmn..this Tinker is loaded as fudgggee..I gotta get me some of that loot”

  .” Dont worry about it..I got like plenty more of those back on base”

  Kid Win had barely coaxed SCV13 when I felt the Wards’ eyes pull back to me like gravity, or maybe like prey animals finally realising the lion was still standing behind them.

  Clockblocker was the first to break the silence.

  The world seemed to pause.

  Vista blinked twice. Even stoic Aegis overheard me, but didn't respond either. Everyone I see seems to have brain exe. Frozen still, even Miss Militia, standing off to the side, reading an update from her earpiece, visibly froze.

  Clockblocker’s visor tilted. “Wait..hold up…hold up..that ain't right. You said Plenty? Plenty more… Plenty of what?”

  “Mechs,” I said casually. “Like that one.”

  Silence. Pure, unfiltered silence. Ah wait..I thought they knew? Didn't PRT usually do recon on potential PRT on the bay? They should know about me, right? Then again.. It's only been a day since I built that much…oh, wow. Has it only been a day? Oh…they dont know.

  woops?

  So I guess the silence is warranted.

  Not the normal kind either, this was the type of silence that had weight. The kind that said everyone here is re-evaluating their life choices. And it's all my fault, yep.

  Aegis cleared his throat. “How… many?”

  I shrugged and just told them the truth. “Twenty-something. Depending on what’s finished being assembled.” Vista made a small, strangled noise that sounded like the word what trying to escape through a collapsing throat.

  Miss Militia slowly lowered her phone. “Twenty… fully operational… oh”

  “Twenty-four,” I corrected. “Though SCV24 is still updating its data after I gutted thirteen. Give it a few minutes.”

  Clockblocker threw his hands up. “He numbers them. Oh my god, he numbers them. He’s not even joking. T-that’s why it comes in numbers. I thought it was just the model type..aha..”

  Aegis’s voice dropped, like he was afraid saying it louder would summon a federal audit. “You just-hijo de puta.. Unbelievable.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I said…Fuck indeed. At this moment. I knew that I probably fucked something up.

  Their shock hung thick in the air, as I’d just admitted I kept nukes in my garage for rainy days.

  It wasn’t even a brag, I was stating a simple fact that I have… a lot of mech to uh…farm me metal and stuff and also gas. Lots and lots of gas. Oh, come on!

  That’s what they do on StarCraft! Just build lots of SCVs and roll out!

  But for the PRT? For capes used to tinkers who could maybe build one cool gadget every few weeks? Yeah, I seem like the abnormal cunt who came to their city and messes with the balance and shit.

  Twenty-plus SCVs were uhh..well. It was insane by ordinary standards, I suppose.

  Clockblocker took a step back. “Dude, you’re a whole… faction.”

  I didn't say anything. I am the whole faction, the Dominion Empire and the whole Terran forces. Aegis stared at me with the slow horror of someone piecing together an algebra problem they really wish they hadn’t started. “And you’re registering as an independent?”

  “....”

  He exhaled, helmet tilting upward. “The Director is going to have an aneurysm.”

  Miss Militia’s tone was gentler but no less stunned. “You realise this level of manufacturing is on par with a high-level tinker team, right? Almost a small army.”

  “Correction,” I said. “A non-combat industrial workforce, if I could have fought back, I would have chased Storm Tiger and maybe caught him too.”

  Clockblocker muttered, “Yeah, until you put guns on them. Why haven't you put guns on them?”

  Vista smacked him in the head again, “ Dont give him any Ideas!”

  I pointed at him. “Not part of the plan.”

  He lifted his hands. One of his hands was still rubbing the slap by the little angry green munchkin“Hey, I’m just saying.If a guy says, ‘I don’t plan to build an army,’ that’s usually the exact phrase villains say before-

  Vista kicked his shin. He yelped again. Does that boy not learn anything? I sighed and stretched my shoulders, letting the tension ease. “Relax. If I wanted to take over the city, I wouldn’t be doing it with SCV.”

  Clockblocker rubbed his shin. “Right, you’d use all twenty.” Miss Militia pinched the bridge of her nose under her mask.

  Aegis muttered, “Please… please don’t.”

  And through all the shock, the fear, the awe, they didn’t realise something important. This wasn’t even the impressive part. I could build far more dangerous, lethal stuff. I just won't..not yet. Anything else is too …deadly for this pageantry they're trying to cosplay around and do a play among villains versus hero stuff.

  But judging by their faces, I figured I’d save that revelation for another day.

  One citywide heart attack at a time.

  I got a new ping from Monica

  “ Tech Reactor Complete Commander.Proceeding to build a Factory assembly”

  A little devilish grin on my face. Now we’re getting somewhere.