DaringEagle

  Using my right hand, I slid the pne I’d discarded earlier back into view and blew it up into its constituent parts. And holy shit that was a lot of parts!

  If it hadn’t really dawned on me what kind of beastly technological marvel I was making, this was as good evidence as any, because the pne I envisioned didn’t have so many little components.

  Taking the strangely exciting sentiment in stride, I went back to work, identifying, pulling, and tossing a lot of unneeded things into the trash. For the better part of five minutes, I did just that before stumbling on something I put in a category I called “tentative.”

  There were a couple more, and Mike handled those ones, keeping them out of sight while feeding me the components we’d worked on earlier today, all the while chiming in with new ideas or anything he noticed.

  Removing and repcing parts wasn’t all I did. I also altered the design and shape of the pne, making it more in line with the tech I was fitting in it and the mental images of Zephyr One and the Avengers Quinjet.

  While in the process of installing seable and compact versions of the fusion-psma drive into the more stylish, bird-like wings, I received yet another message. It seemed I wouldn’t be doing any uninterrupted work today.

  With more than a bit of grumbling, I stopped pying with the holograms and checked who it was. When I saw it was Superboy, I changed my tune immediately. I answered the call and split my attention between it and the hologram, resuming work on the pne.

  “Superboy.”

  “Hey,” came his drawl reply.

  “What’s up?”

  “C—Superman just dropped me off at his parents’ home and left.”

  “Oh… okay. How are they? The parents.”

  “They’re… nice?” He said in a way that suggested he didn’t understand their behaviour. Like it was an alien thing. The Kents were probably ying the love on thick.

  “Well, they raised Big Blue so it makes sense that they’re the reason he turned out great.”

  He paused, probably mulling over my words. “Big Blue?”

  “Just something I call Superman.”

  “Oh… okay.”

  “Let’s change the topic. Is everything okay with you? Did the tests show any problems?”

  “I’m… fine,” he replied, sounding disappointed and defeated. “I’m not as strong as Superman, but Jor-El says I may have psionic potential. Something about my Genomorph side synergizing with the little Kryptonian in me.”

  That “little” in his statement carried a whole pile of baggage behind it, but that wasn't why I stopped busying my hands. Psionic potential? That was new.

  Dubbilex’s dispy of telekinesis and memories of the various Superboy variants with the tactile version of that power inundated my mind. I frowned as I added this item to the list of deviations, clearing up my expression just as fast.

  Superboy was still on the call.

  “You don’t sound too happy about that.”

  “I don’t know. Martian Manhunter said he’s removed all the Cadmus programming, but he left all the memories I’ve formed up till now, including the simutions where I fought Superman. He said they’re a part of me and removing them would be inadvisable.”

  Huh, at least some things remained unchanged.

  “You want to be like the big guy right?”

  “...”

  No answer.

  “I get it. You’re not the only one. I daresay that most people, including myself, wish they were like him. Hell, let’s look at your situation. Lex in his own jealousy or whatever justification he cooked up for himself, created his own pocket Superman. Do you think if there was an alternative where he could’ve given himself these powers he wouldn’t take it?”

  “....”

  “There’s no problem if you want to be like the big guy. Just be sure that it is what YOU want.”

  “...What I want…” Superboy trailed off, his voice faint.

  Time to change the subject.

  “What about Match? How is he?”

  “Jor-El has him in stasis. His DNA is being repaired, but it’ll take a while. This feels weird.“

  “What?” I paused.

  “Talking like this. I can’t see you and it feels strange.”

  “Oh… wait a second.” I was about to tell him how to activate the video call function but decided against it. “I’m gonna end the call and call you again. Right now. Okay?”

  “Okay?” He sounded unsure.

  I stopped working, ended the call, and dialed his contact, letting the tiny camera in the watch catch me in frame. In less than a second, my face shrunk into the corner of the holoscreen and his own appeared on the rger portion.

  “Hey,” I smiled and raised a hand.

  He also smiled a bit and responded. “Hey.”

  “Better now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What were we talking about? Yeah, Match. His DNA is being repaired. Did Jor-El tell you how long? And by the way, who is he, this Jor-El?“

  He looked a bit guilty and ashamed. “Oh, I forgot to ask him. About Match.”

  No surprise there. He was probably sulking about being so different from and weaker than his genetic donor.

  “Jor-El is an A.I. of Superman’s dad. He has all his memories and knowledge.”

  Was he supposed to be telling me all this?

  “Oh… that’s cool. I have a friend who’s an A.I. as well. Wanna meet him?”

  “Uhh, sure.”

  “You’ve already met him actually. Mike, come say hi.”

  The giant robot stopped what he was doing and walked straight through the giant hologram of the unfinished Zephyr, bringing his head into frame as I held my wrist further away from me.

  “Hello Superboy.”

  “I remember you. Hello.”

  “It is nice to see you. How are you adjusting to life outside a pod?”

  Good god! Where did all this guy’s tact vanish to?

  “I don’t know,” Superboy said, looking away in contemption. “I haven’t slept since you guys found me.”

  Ohh boy.

  Mike had overstayed his welcome with that statement, so I pushed him out of frame.

  “You should get some sleep.”

  “Hm.”

  Now, to leave things on a high note.

  “Have you chosen a name? We can’t call you Superboy all the time. That’s your codename, remember? Take me for example. My codename is Specialist, but my rea– civilian name is Elliot.”

  “Elliot,” he mouthed to himself and narrowed his eyes at me. “You were going to say ‘real name.’”

  “Yeah, but I stopped, didn’t I? Specialist and Elliot are both my names. They represent two sides of me that are both real.”

  “So… the name is for my other side?”

  “If by other you mean civilian life then yeah. Look, this conversation is taking some deeper turns that I’d very much like to continue exploring, but not over the phone. Get some sleep. When Superman is free or he comes back, tell him to bring you here. We’ll talk more then.”

  “Okay,” he nodded.

  “Before you leave though, I have a name suggestion. Wanna hear it?”

  He gave me a nod and I gave it to him.

  “How does Aaron sound? It means strength, or mountain of strength.”

  That put a smile on his face. “I like that.”

  “Well, think on it. There’s no rush. Get some sleep and tell Superman what I said. I’ll forward you what time I’ll be avaible so you don’t come and find an empty cave. Goodbye. Take care.”

  “You too. Thank you…”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The video feet cut after that and I dismissed my screen. ~Whew. I exhaled and turned around to resume work. What I found instead was Mike staring at me.

  “What?” I asked and raised my hands, taking hold of the Zephyr again.

  “Aaron? You told me his name was Connor.”

  “That was a tv show. This is real life. How do you expect me to tell him that Connor means ‘wolf lover?’ Sure, he won’t care, but it would have felt weird. At least with Aaron having to do with strength I knew there was a high chance he’d love it. Besides, it’s not set in stone. I’m sure Superman has something else in the works.”

  “You and I both know Aaron is going to stick whether Superman likes it or not.”

  “You know, instead of working on theories, how about you help me on the tangible thing right in front of us?” I directed my hands toward the hologram.

  “You’re not slick,” he said and joined me.

  Three solid, uninterrupted hours passed after that. By the end of hour one, all the main components had been added to the ship. At the two hour mark, the design and aesthetics were done.

  Close to the end of hour three, I finally completed two additional projects, one I’d originally shelved for ter and a fresh one I created as a result of the fight with Blockbuster.

  They were a back mounted pack that deployed four multipurpose spider legs for use in heroics or tech work and a Mark 3 version of my spider suit. The Mark 2 had no problems really, and though I wished to update it, creating a new one from scratch with the new upgrades was the better path.

  It hadn’t been printed yet, but the improved suit would now sport visible and thickened pads at most of the combat striking points save for the hands and head.

  At the shoulders, elbows, knees, shin, feet, heels, and soles, KERSs (Kinetic Energy Recovery Systems) heavily worked on with M and E would be installed. Same for the gauntlets that would now go over my hands.

  I said thickened pads, but the difference was only obvious at my shoulders, elbows, and knees. For the other parts, the difference would be hard to spot, with the hands being the easiest to detect due to the gauntlets going all the way up my forearms.

  These devices that were normally used in cars in order to improve energy efficiency had been shrunken down enough to be installed in Goril Arms in the Cyberpunk world.

  They worked by absorbing kinetic energy, storing some of it and converting the rest to electricity. This was the expnation behind the insane feats of strength the arms dispyed.

  Because there was no way a tv show host who couldn’t throw a proper punch could demolish concrete with a single, sloppy swing of her arm.

  It was an ingenious piece and use of tech, one that was like the world’s hottest woman to M and E. It was such an avid response from the power that I’d taken things further with it and shrunk the devices even more to the size of finger nails.

  I could’ve gone further, but what was I going to do with a KERS the size of a rice grain? Oh there were some possibilities at the edge of my mind, but I couldn’t grasp them quickly enough, the effort wearing out my already thinned patience.

  So I focused on upgrading the suit and now I had a finished blueprint of the Mk. 3.

  What had been a simple desire to understand why Goril Arms were so effective and popur had turned into an opportunity that gave a considerable boost to my prowess, and I couldn’t wait to test it.

  To do that however, required that the suit exist. And for it to exist, I had to fire up the fabricator and feed it feedstock, a resource we currently didn’t have enough of.

  Quickly removing the bandages from my hands, I found unbruised flesh waiting for me. The sight drove me to clench and unclench, and my hands sang a song of victory in response. Super healing for the win.

  In order to solve our ck of resources problem, at least for our current needs and before I bought the dump in Bludhaven, I needed to do a bit of scavenging. The site had already been chosen and mapped out by Mike.

  My destination was an abandoned ndfill in Gotham, and the mere thought of going there made me apprehensive for some reason. I checked and double checked if this was a sign from Spider Sense, but it was all quiet on that front.

  This was all me and my paranoia. Gotham would do that to a person. Whatever the case, we needed the material, so I was going.

  It didn’t take me long to change into an all bck get up with no identifying features. This was personal. That’s why in addition to this, I strapped a holster to my belt and slotted in one of my stun guns. The reinforced knife was coming too.

  Ski mask tucked safely in my pocket, Mike handed me a backpack that would've been too heavy for even well-trained soldiers. I slung it on with ease and bid him goodbye.

  One quick transmission to Gotham City ter, I stayed in the tube and wore the mask before stepping out. From there, I climbed the nearest building, checked the map one time and started leaping across rooftops.

  It wasn’t completely dark out, so I caught a few stares. They were all short lived however as I paid them no mind and kept my legs moving. Once I arrived at my destination, I easily cleared the flimsy fence surrounding it and found a pce that was out of sight.

  Down on one knee, I found a retively clean pce and set the bag down, retrieving a hazmat mask before zipping the former back up and throwing it on my back again. The mask went over my face and I went deeper into the trash heap, traversing a path I knew would be difficult for most.

  Back on one knee below and behind a gigantic heap, I opened the bag and retrieved a drone, pushing a particur spot on it. It came to life with barely a hum and rose up from my palm.

  “Drone’s active,” I said.

  “Affirmative. Beginning perimeter scan.”

  The drone moved away and started running faint lights over the trash and I removed the rgest and heaviest thing in the backpack; a Zeta-Ptform.

  After searching for and finding no ft, perilous surface to lower it, I decided to make one. A long series of angry kicks and footswipes ter, I gently lowered the teleporter and used my watch to trigger it.

  Yellow light fshed above the small device and a rger version appeared right atop it. With that set, I went into the bag for one st thing and started the scavenging process.

  The criteria I worked with was simple. No wet, organic, or slimy stuff. Everything I sent over had to be disinfected and also possess enough structural consistency to survive the grip of an average person.

  We needed tonnes of material, so no sending over things like cardboard.

  One by one, I’d grab something, give it a look from multiple angles and squeeze a bit to see if it passed the checks. If it did, I’d spray it with the disinfectant, add it to the pile on the ptform and rinse and repeat until a rge enough pile had been gathered.

  Where there was no space left on the ptform’s surface, I’d send the batch over and start the process all over again.

  With Mike watching over me and the surroundings, I spent hours there and finally completed our objective, successfully gathering over 30 tonnes of pure feedstock before midnight struck.

  DaringEagle