Izurich
Mixtape Ghost NVICTOR LANGSTON, THE PROFESSOR, AND TRION ONE
Name: Victor Langston and Professor Selphia
Location: Airport Tarmac
Status: Talking
Victor listened to what the trenchcoat-wearing man had to say on the subject, nodding his head. Everything he was saying made sense. Fighting was what Nomads lived for. A tournament with this much prestige, with a global reach? It would take something pretty huge to cancel it, though admittedly…
“I mean, at the end of the day, it’s a tournament. I’m pretty sure there are things smaller than a war that would cancel it. Like if Walter was found embezzling funds into a secret caviar-powered jetpack project or something.”
Then the Professor responded to his question about the android barreling into the crowd, and Victor said, “Yeah, that’s fair, I can’t really fight right now anyway--wait, what does your love life have to do with anything?!”
“The jet pack would more than likely make more people want to come, just to laugh.” There was silence for a moment, before the Professor answered Victor’s shock borne question. “Everything and nothing. History can be a cruel mistress sometimes. Especially when you remember a lot of it.” There were two ways that what he said could have been taken. One was figurative, the other literal. For a moment, the Professor paused, as he gazed intently into the crowd, before shaking his head just a tad. Good, he was mistaken, that wasn’t a familiar face he’d seen. Last thing they needed was a chase scene, really.
“Speaking of history, you look kinda familiar actually,” Victor responded. “Do you mind taking off the hat for a second?”
“So long as you promise to be ready to run if anyone behind us yells at me.” A gloved hand reached up, taking hold of the hat brim, before it was pulled up and off, revealing close cut red hair in the front, but tied up in the back just a tad. Piercing red eyes refocused on Victor, revealing the overall visage of someone who could have looked like they had just stepped out of a painting. Albeit with a quick change of clothes. The whole made for a painting type look.
Victor stared. And then stared again. It took all of his composure not to immediately flip out and start yelling at the top of his lungs. Because this guy…
“Um...this might be a little awkward, but uh...you look exactly like a photo of my great-grandad. Are you a Mythic or something? ‘Cause either that’s an incredible coincidence or something strange is going on.”
The Professor quickly slipped his hat back on, even as Victor started talking, his gaze slipping back to the crowd far behind, before flipping back to Victor. For just a moment, there was a strange look in his eyes, before he spoke, ever so softly. “Do you have the picture on you? Either way, I’ll answer your question, but you have to promise to not freak out.” He could already sense the male was starting to lose it, or fighting, but he wasn’t sure yet why. Just, that familiarity...and great-grandfather. That was what...the mid to late 1800s, early 1900s? This posed an interesting topic, one that began to turn gears in his head. He waited though, to give Victor a chance to consider, as the duo had, by now, gotten far enough away that any concerns of being overheard would be minimal.
“Gimme a second,” Victor said. He then pulled out his smartphone, which was clearly a recent (and highly-advanced) Samsung model--and punched in the number for his grandma.
“Hey, Gran?”
“Oh hello Victor!” he could hear through the speaker. “I heard the tournament was cancelled, what happened?”
“Forget about that for a minute, I need a photo of my great-grandad on your side as quickly as possible. Can you text it to me?”
“Wha--why?”
“Because I’m right next to a red-eyed Mythic that looks exactly like he did in his 20’s, and when I brought it up to him he asked to see the photo.”
“And you think this Mythic is my long-lost Pa?”
“It’s possible.”
“...Sure. He has a lot to answer for if this is true! I’ll send it over now.”
With that, they bid each other goodbye. Victor hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. “And now we wait. She’s a bit more savvy with tech than you’d think, it’ll probably only be a few minutes. Let’s go duck into a Starbucks or something until it comes through. It’s fucking hot out here.”
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Name: Victor Langston and the Professor
Location: Mariott Zamindawar Hotel Suite
Status: More talking. Also, coffee.
And so, in a Mariott hotel room suite, with coffee from an integrated Starbucks on the table next to him, Victor got the text.
]Here’s the photo. Also, if he’s my dad, ask him why he was never around.
And lo and behold, the photo was a splitting image of the Professor, in a rather dapper outfit no less. Victor showed him the old sepia photograph on his phone.
“So...do you have an explanation for this?” he said.
The Professor had been silent after listening to the exchange, and had been so even longer, only nodding then and now. Now that the two were seated, the Professor had drank what had to be one rich coffee (flavor-wise of course), he looked over, and paused. Selphia remembered this, and he slowly sat back, a look of well, shock on his face. His mind-palace opened doors, unlocked memories he’d stowed away. Of another time. It took a long moment, but finally, he spoke, his voice barely loud enough for Victor to hear, but not so low that he had to kill himself in straining to hear. “People were as superstitious then as they are now, if not worse. Xenophobia was worse. I didn’t know...she had a child. Back then, I usually spent a week at most in an area before moving on.”
He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking as the Mythic settled, mulling over the memories, a slight smile tugging at his cheeks. “Left to protect her, same as the others over the centuries I’ve been alive. So yes, to answer your question, I’m a Mythic. A dragon, to be precise. That and...truth be told, had someone after me at the time, or someone’s. Monster hunter organization, Van Helsings or something...they hunted a lot of us.” Arms folded across his chest, the Professor taking in a breath, before letting it out. “They’d been after me for about five hundred years. Ever hear a story about a fellow called the Professor?” He paused then, giving Victor now time to process everything. He imagined it was a lot to take in, learning you were one, descended from a dragon, and two, to hear it from the being himself.
Victor stared into his plastic cup of iced coffee, silent for a while. When he spoke up again, he was quiet. “Well...I...really don’t know what to say to all of that. To be in the presence of a Dragon, and the legendary Professor at that...well at the very least it explains some things. Like your disappearance, and why I never seem to get sunburned. I’ll tell Gran the full story when I get back home, I guess. No sense in blowing your cover the phone. Though I guess it’s our cover now, judging by the Van Helsing clan.”
He laughed weakly. “Heh…” he trailed off, still reeling after all that.
“...Anyway, while I could catch up with you for days, I guess I might as well get the biggest question out of the way right now.”
Victor put his hands together on the table.“You might’ve noticed I was in the crowd for the World Warriors tournament. I’m a Nomad, but I’m a weird one, by necessity.”
He leaned his head back, putting his arms behind his head as he recalled what happened over the last two years. “I’ve always been good with machines, and I was going to pursue a career in tech when I unexpectedly won the lottery three years ago. I invested most of it, got my family and I financially secure, and, after faffing around for six months, decided on what was basically a whim to pursue Nomad training.”
He grimaced as he continued. “I paid $100,000 for lessons from a guy calling himself Master Zhang Wu, who claimed he was an expert in Nomad-grade Chinese kung-fu. His style was sort of like Wing Chun, and I grasped the hand-to-hand parts. But I could never unlock my ki. Somehow, I couldn’t do anything superhuman. HIs training methods were harsh, and I wound up breaking a few bones during my studies. Eventually, he claimed that my ki was ‘blocked’ somehow, and I’d never be able to unlock it. He declared me a lost cause and didn’t accept a refund.
“So I opted to build a machine to fight for me instead. It’s an anti-Nomad combat drone I called Trion One.”
He smiled slightly. “The name was just because I thought it sounded cool and futuristic, honestly. Anyway, I picked up American kickboxing and use both my skills and my drone to fight for me in the field. It’s in an armored truck right now, probably somewhere near a local warehouse.”
He unzipped his backpack and took out a helmet. “This is a neural-interface helmet, one of three control mechanisms I have for it. It’s what I use most of the time. I can basically control two bodies at once this way.” He put it back in the backpack.
“But I had a question, of course,” he said as he stared straight at the Professor. “The first tournament I took it to, I ran in to Master Zhang again. He left as soon as he was shown the drone. Another Nomad told me that he had a reputation as a con man who teaches rich kids ‘useless crap,’ then kicks them out when they can’t use their ki. So all of that was for nothing, including Trion. I want someone I can trust to help me unlock my ki, and help me become an able fighter in my own right, and you were on the plane so I know you can fight. And while I started on a whim, Nomadic life has become a real passion of mine.”
He held out a hand. “Please, Professor. Will you help me become a real Nomad?”
A machinist who used technology to make up for his own shortcomings. There were a lot of oddballs amid the Nomads, but this? It impressed the Professor, in a good way. It showed a degree of determination he didn’t often get to see. Sure, Nomads had their reasons to fight, but this was something else. Slowly, the professor took a sip of his drink, as he listened to Victor talk, and when the male Nomad held out his hand, he took it, shaking it firmly. “A real Nomad isn’t defined by how good with Ki they are, it’s what drives them to keep going. It can be anything, fame, money, justice, or even something like sadism. You want to improve yourself, to grow stronger, and that’s good.” He leaned in, giving Victor a piercing look, that for a moment, one could almost swear they saw the galaxy’s spiral in his eyes, before just as quickly, it was gone.
“There’s just one condition for all this. Well, two. One, you help me look into this whole tournament canceling, and if we’re lucky, it’s just something scandalous. Worst case, it’s a war or something evil. Whether it’s just us or a bunch of others, we do what we can to help, alright?”
He took another sip of his drink, then laughed, a rich, deep, cheerful one. “Oh, and call me Chris, it’s not my real “name,” but...when I first turned up in this world, I...forgot my birth name. Long story, it’s been a few major civilizations. Took it as a nickname during the Crusades, and it works. Common enough, eh?” He lifted his drink, in a form of a toast, to whatever came next.
“Common enough indeed!” Victor raised his iced coffee to the Professor’s own cup, the two drinks not quite clinking when they met due to the fact that they weren’t made of glass, but it was good enough.
But Victor had to stop and consider what the Professor said after he put down his drink. He should’ve expected he’d get involved in Nomad shenanigans like this. It came with the territory. Everyone had their goals, after all, and he was willing to take down Master Zhang, who would probably fight to kill when cornered like the rat he was.
But this was different. This was a potential coup this guy was talking about. He was an immortal dragon venerated as a god, yes, but this was still crazy. Still, this opportunity would never come again, and learning under a living legend--and his relative no less--was an opportunity too good to pass up. Besides, it might be nothing, right?
“Anyway, I’ll help you, P--Chris.” Victor said. “But I’m warning you right now that I’ve mainly stuck around the tournament scene. I don’t typically get involved in Nomad adventures, so you’ll be leading the way.”
“So I’ve got some other questions. These Van Helsing guys. Can you give me the rundown on them? Are they so bigoted that they’d go after me just for having your blood? Would they hunt the people around us just by association? And any other information you’d like to include.”
“And also, they say Mythic blood doesn’t give you any kind of powers, but there’s a lot of contradictory information out there. Does being descended from you give me anything unique. Like a longer lifespan or large reserves of ki?”
The Professor’s gaze drifted around the room, before looking back to Victor. “Keep your voice down, just incase one of them is around.” He thought about how to answer his descendant’s questions. “Well, with the Helsing crew, they’ll likely be put off by your completely human appearance, I have a historical record, so they know who to look for. So they’ll probably be careful...but it depends on if they have any older ones I tangled with still alive. Like some from the Korean War. Those guys were zealots, and hated mythics with a passion.” He thought a longer moment, then sighed softly. “I’ll lead the way, as for the hunting around, it depends again on who we’re up against. Some just go for their target, others are more tricky. If we’re lucky, we’ll get the brute force methoders. As for overall, they’re mythic hunters, so they tend to design stuff for different mythics. They started out hunting vampires, but branched out for reasons I still don’t understand. So with a vampire, they’ll go for the stakes, but for a dragon? They’ll go for more sneaky methods, exploit our greed.”
He paused a moment, sighing softly, as he admitted that bit about greed. “As for powers you might get, a longer lifespan is entirely possible, larger ki stores? Possibly. But back to the Helsings, while they have “some” honor, they tend to side with those best suited to help them complete their objectives. So if a tyrant is paranoid, they could convince them to target a specific group, and hope that of the dead, at least one is a mythic. It's a disappointing thing, but they’re obsessed at times. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try a cruise ship as a way to get rid of mythics, eh?” He let Victor take this all in, his not so subtle nod to an animated movie would probably go over some heads, but who knew.
Victor stared at Chris as he said that last sentence, more appalled than anything else. “Look dude, I know you’ve probably seen a lot of bloodshed in your time, but we’re talking about a group of people that would fucking lynch me for being your great-grandkid, and have been hunting you since the 1500s. This is not the time for movie references.“
“...Anyway,” Victor continued, still processing the implications of a bunch of extremist bigots out to murder him and the Professor--”Wait a second,” he said as his eyes widened, talking in a whisper, “If they’d go after me for being related to you, that means that once they figure it out, they’ll go after Mom and Grandma!”
“...Son of a bitch,” he said, his face pale. “Now I see why you left.”
“The dark humor helps, sometimes.” He shrugged just a tad, the Professor reaching out a hand to steady Victor before he did something rash, placing the hand on the younger Nomad’s shoulder. “It also didn’t help there was a small outpost of them a few towns away, I found an excuse to go there and deal with them. Shook them after a country or two. Nowadays, border jumping isn’t as easy as it used to be.” He sighed softly, squeezing Victor’s shoulder, before pulling his hand away. “We should probably look into what’s being publicly said about the tournament, find a place to lay low while we plan the investigation. I’m not the only Mythic here, so finding some of the others, if any of the good ones are here, would be a good idea.”
He mulled a moment longer, then nodded to himself. “And if we’re lucky, This will all turn out to be nothing, we can laugh about it later, then go see historic sites. Shall we get going, then?”
“...Yeah, let’s do that,” Victor replied in a shaky voice. The Professor’s hand was appreciated, even if he was still a relative stranger. Sometimes, you just needed a bit of comfort. But the Professor was right. Now was the time for action.
“I’m going to keep my stuff in this room, and we can use this hotel room as home base.” he said, with a bit more confidence. “To everyone else, we’re just some Nomads looking to turn the cancelled tournament into a vacation. We should have plausible deniability, at least until punches start getting thrown at anyone who wasn’t on the plane. That’ll also help justify me lugging Trion everywhere. You never know when a Nomad fight will break out.”
He got up and turned to leave. “Speaking of which, I need to pick him up from the van. I’m defenseless without him.”
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Name: Victor Langston, Trion One, and the Professor
Location: Zamindawar Marriott Hotel → Parking garage near the airport
Status: Unveiling Trion
Outside the hotel, the dragon’s descendant was talking on the phone as they left the hotel, Victor notably keeping that backpack from earlier. A large, armored truck was waiting for them in a nearby parking garage.
After he cleared the Professor with his security detail (leaving out the compromising details), he unlocked and opened the truck’s back door. Inside was a machinist’s wet dream.
Dozens of wires snaked across the truck floor. A generator, its fuel intake snaking into the truck’s own engine, chugged in the back. An incredibly complex computer console was on the right side of the room, complete with a sophisticated assembly of motors in a metal enclosure clearly intended for a pilot to control Trion via some kind of motion-capture system.
And in the center of this technological orgy was Trion One itself. A tall, lanky, yet powerfully-built combat machine, it was currently lying on some kind of repair-slash-charging station that seemed to weirdly resemble a vivisection table, complete with restraints.
There had been some bodyguards in here before, but they were mostly on the outside of the truck now, letting them look around in peace, though the Professor could note that some of them were keeping an eye on him, likely in case he attempted to attack Victor. Not that he was in any way likely to do that.
“So, what do you think?” Victor said, pride in his voice.
He was silent, the Professor having observed everything around, mulling over what he was looking at. He’d seen drones flown by world governments before, but this? This went beyond. It was like those mecha tv shows people enjoyed so much. He gazed down at the machine for a long moment, mulling things over, before turning his gaze back to his descendent, a faint smile on his face. “It’s beautiful. Sure, I can tell its a work in progress, as any good creation should be, always seeking to improve, but it’s a work of art. And a testament to how far human civilization has advanced.” For a moment, he was silent again, but before Victor could say something, Chris spoke again, a faint tone of humor to his words then. “I take it this boy can do a lot of things, right? What’s the precise capacities we’re looking at? Is flight possible? Because aerial information gathering is bound to come in handy, if we can’t find any flying Mythics. And I don’t count, transforming is too dangerous, and energy consuming for the moment.”
He looked back to Victor again, clearly planning and considering their options. Even with knowing that there was some degree of unrest, the specifics weren’t clear. He really hoped it was simple, like the tournament hoster had died of a stroke or something, and not all out war. Last thing he wanted was to be dragged into another one of those so soon. Not after the Middle East. He still didn’t remember that time fondly, the cultural destruction still hurt to remember. But before Chris got too absorbed in his memories, he seemed to shake a tad, as if waking up again. “Sorry, got lost in memory lane for a moment there.”
“Well, technically speaking, it’s not a work in progress,” Victor said as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit embarrassed. “This is the first successful model, but I suppose it is a little rough around the edges. I hadn’t built anything this complex before I started with Trion, so functionality was the name of the game.
“Still,” he said, putting his hand down. “I am always looking to improve on him. He’s got some telemetry systems on him to help the process along.”
Then he turned the robot, still lying prone in its restraints. “The thing about Trion One was that it was meant to be a substitute for the Nomadic powers I lacked...but at the time I created it I only saw myself getting involved in the tournament scene. So Trion was designed for organized one-on-one combat in a regulated environment against Nomads, and that meant I had a relatively-legal excuse to put in a bunch of weaponry. It’s meant to keep an opponent at bay with ranged attacks to wear down their aura, then go in for the knockout once they’re weak enough. It’s got rocket boosters for flight, plasma cannons, a railgun, twin machine-guns, deployable taser cables, and can even electrify its armor to stun enemy Nomads on contact.”
His expression grew a bit mischievous as he looked back at the Professor. “You should’ve seen the look on the face of the first guy who had to deal with that last trick. Took him completely off-guard.”
Then he frowned. “Unfortunately, all of those weapons I installed mean that taking it out in public is a bad idea. The police are probably on-edge already from the hundreds of angry Nomads running around outside, plus with the coup rumors they’re probably pretty jumpy. And while those machine-guns might just be a gentle pinprick to a Nomad’s aura, they’re lethal to an unprotected civilian. Not to mention that even without his weapons, Trion is pretty intimidating. I might get arrested if I just parade the thing around.
“And as for aerial information gathering…” Victor said as he stared at the Professor flatly. “Do you know how much noise a rocket makes? Trion taking off will be heard by everyone within several miles, and the police will zero in on us in minutes. There’s a reason why spy planes take off so far from their targets.
“No. Unless you think you can get him into the sky in advance without making a peep, Trion should stay in the truck until we need him. I’ll keep the helmet on standby. If nothing else, I should be able to get away with using him for self-defense, and with his speed he could get across the city in minutes. You should hopefully be able to keep an attacker at bay for that long.”
“Fair enough.” The Professor laughed dryly, reaching up a hand to rub his neck nape a tad nervously. After a few moments, he pulled his hand away, and mulled over things a bit more. “Yeah, I probably could, assuming it’s not one of the bad mythics, then things could get dicey. And you’re right, we have to be as careful as possible.” Stepping away, the Professor looked towards the outside, leaning forward, then rocking back on his heels, then repeated this a few times, a sort of relaxation deal. “So, what now? Should we go looking for answers, or go see if we can find some allies to help?” Chris left this up to Victor, wanting to make sure to respect the other’s wishes in regards to the situation.
“I say we find allies,” Victor said almost immediately as he sat down in the chair in front of the nearby console. “We’re just two people. You’ve probably dealt with things like this before, but I know that I’m out of my depth here, and as a millionaire I’m not exactly anonymous. Not to mention the whole protection thing we talked about. We need more people, preferably more Nomads. That’ll give us more muscle, let us be in more places at once, and give us more collective brains to help piece together what we uncover. And let’s face it: with something this big, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“And this isn’t the crusades, where the worst is a bunch of archers or knights. Yeah, you’re right.” He turned away fully from Victor, back towards the airport, as if to reorient, only to then pause. “Hold on, do you hear that?” He could also hear what sounded like nearby popping. Like popcorn, but there wasn’t a nearby popcorn machine. His expression shifted, gaining a look of concern. “Pops...like gunshots. Sounds like someone, or rather, something got trigger happy. We should go, make sure its not the Helsings, or whoever’s behind the tournament. Maybe we can find some allies along the way. Also real quick, how close is the nearest rooftop to us?” The Professor began to walk towards the side of the area closest to the airport, scanning his surroundings as he went, now a lot less joking, much more serious. If that was gunfire...people were in danger, and he wasn’t a fan of letting innocents get hurt. They had work to do, and fast…Especially given the cries he could hear. Yeah, shit was hitting the fan.
Victor craned his neck, trying to hear the sound that Chris was referring to. Instead, he heard something different a few moments later.
“Uh, Chris?” he said. “I don’t think you need to listen to the gunshots to know that.” The sound of panicked, screaming civilians filled the air as he spoke, punctuating his words. With that, he immediately headed towards the motion-capture station for Trion, slotting his arms and legs into the appropriate parts of the armature...only to be interrupted by his phone, still in his pocket, starting to go crazy with notifications. “Fucking--AARGH!” he said in frustration as he reached for it quickly, putting it on vibrate. He could deal with the vibration, but he couldn’t deal with the sound.
“There,” he said, as the restraints were released and Trion got up off the recharging table. “Get to the airport, I’ll back you up. We’re on the third floor of the parking garage, the roof is accessible to cars. You can run there.”
The bodyguards around the truck got into defensive positions, taking out their weapons in case of an attacker. The bodyguards in question were clearly Nomads, albeit lesser-ranked ones. Victor knew that they’d be more than capable of handling most threats, but he felt his hair stand on end regardless. He sincerely hoped that no-one put two and two together and decided to attack the truck.
The Professor looked briefly at his descendant who was now strapped in, having been nervous about the crazed phone. But then he nodded to himself, and dashed off, making his own way to the area outside, finding his way to the top of the airport complex. Parkouring from one part to another, he found himself at a vantage point, and blinked a few times as he looked down towards the situation below, gathering a sense of what was up.
As this was happening, Trion darted out of the truck, hopped the small barricade to keep cars from falling out of the parking garage, and shot out into the air. And dear God, were its jets loud. Trion had all the subtlety of a freight train, but this got it to the battlefield in under three seconds.
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Name: Trion One and the Professor
Location: Zamindawar International Airport Tarmac
Status: Defending the Airport
It slowed down as it descended, alighting on the tarmac as it dropped to one knee. It got up, as Victor watched this...carnage unfold. He could barely comprehend it, and was actively trying to hold in his lunch as he saw the corpses.
Victor’s horror-induced paralysis was interrupted almost immediately by the distinctive sound of bullets pinging off of Trion’s heavy armor. In response to this, Trion’s HUD indicated the exact direction the bullets came from.
Well, Victor thought to himself, they technically fired the first shot. Now it’s self-defense. With that, Trion immediately sprinted over to the nearest attacker, a powerfully-built man wielding an assault rifle of some kind. Seeing that an entire magazine had no effect, the man fired his underbarrel grenade launcher at the charging drone in desperation.
Victor hadn’t expected that, and didn’t have the reflexes to avoid a fast-moving projectile like that. So it hit Trion square in the chest, creating a decently-sized explosion and engulfing Trion in flame, sizzling the tarmac.
Victor’s screen went white as the explosion temporarily overwhelmed Trion’s onboard cameras. This stopped him from moving forward as he tried to get his bearings and assess the damage.
Above the chaos, the Professor studied the situation, his expression growing concerned at the sight of the carnage, his gaze narrowing. He needed to do something. He quickly found an access hatch, and began to pry it open, using a mix of brute force and cautious actions. All the while glancing down towards the chaos.
The soldier, seeing that Trion didn’t seem to be coming after him anymore, calmed down a little bit and reloaded...only for the explosion to subside, revealing that Trion was still standing, just with some soot stuck to its frame. It immediately resumed its charge as the soldier tried desperately to get away, now seeing that nothing in his arsenal could stop this monster.
He didn’t succeed. Trion’s fist connected with the soldier’s helmeted face with a force five times stronger than Muhammad Ali’s most powerful straight. It was still holding back, of course, but this was enough to dent his helmet’s front panel, break his nose with an audible crunching sound, and knock the soldier solidly out. A quick look at the black-suited man’s prone form indicated that he was still breathing. Thankfully.
Victor had no time to catch his breath though. With their sergeant’s cry of “Everyone! Throw HE and flashbangs!” every soldier in that man’s squad threw a small armory’s worth of grenades at him.
First, the flashbangs hit, blinding and deafening Trion’s sensors. Victor compensated for this by switching to thermal vision, only for all the explosives to hit his drone in quick succession. The sheer force of the grenades detonating was enough to knock Trion flat on its back, at which point the nine remaining soldiers all emptied their magazines into it.
A small crater had formed in the tarmac around it, but Trion’s armor had been built to take hits from the most powerful Nomads in the tournament scene. Victor might have paid for entrance into the World Warriors tournament, but he knew exactly what he was getting into. Trion’s armor was tested against several dozen Nomads who were hired to go to town on it. This? This was nothing.
So Victor was justified in speaking into the mic, “Is that really the best you can do?” Trion got to its feet, armor blackened and scorched, but completely functional.
But something else caught his eye as he looked around. One of the grenades went wide, and it had seriously injured a few people. He could even see that a thirtysomething woman had gotten her leg blown off.
That did it. Victor felt something snap inside of him. Ignoring the soldiers’ cries of panic, Victor gunned Trion’s thrusters and simply cut loose.
The nearest man had his arms effortlessly twisted at an unnatural angle Another had both of his calf bones shattered with a low kick. A third tried to punch Trion, only to for Victor to catch his fist and crush his fingers into powder, then put him down for the count with a body blow to the chest that broke five ribs. And on and on it went.
While Victor had snapped, the Professor had fallen backwards due to the massive flash of light, blinded briefly, flailing his arms as he did so. After a few moments, his vision restored, and down he looked...to see the injured woman. He looked back to the hatch he’d opened, and jumped down through it, dropping to the ground, slamming with enough force into the ground to crack it. He surged to his feet, slamming a fist into the chest of the nearest enemy, followed by a kick to a knee that probably shattered it. Another found themselves picked up by the Mythic’s strength, and in an almost video game esque way, the man was then flung into a nearby group. Just as fast, he darted over to the fallen woman, calling out for one of the intact civilians to help him provide support, as he attempted to do something about the blood loss. Which came in the form of a scream and the smell of cooking flesh as the wound was burned shut. A temporary fix since the burn would wear off, but it would stabilize the woman for the moment. The Professor glanced into the female’s eyes, and smiled gently, offering her some form of reassurance, some of those around despite the chaos, gawking at the sight of what could only be described as an urban legend given form. He turned away, and dashed back into the chaos, towards Trion and “Victor,” given the male was somewhat there and in control of the machine.
“Victor! Snap out of it!” The Professor yelled up to the machine, not sure if the other could hear him, before quickly waving a hand. “Focus on more efficient methods, your anger is only going to consume you! The woman’s okay, and the others are getting to safety! We need to find other Nomads and try to secure an exit point if it hasn’t yet been for civilians!” His tone was firm, but yet gentle, even as he turned his gaze towards the one who had his arms twisted, and yet was still trying to move. Stepping over, the Professor placed a foot on the fighter’s chest and slammed him back down. “Stay down, and maybe you’ll actually live. I have use for you.” Just as quickly, a hand was brought down, knocking the gunman out with a strike to a pressure point. Picking up a nearby fallen gun, the Professor couldn’t help but grin a tad. Fight fire with fire as they say. He knew how to use the model, and called up to Victor again. “Let’s rock and roll kid.” As if to prove his point, unless Victor took care of it, a nearby approaching gunman would find himself getting a rifle butt to the face, with enough force to knock him flat on his ass, and probably break that nose. “You stay down too, buddy. You’re lucky this isn’t jungle warfare.” Now, onwards, there were plenty of gunmen left to take care of.
It was then that Victor caught himself. He stared at the grown men around him, squirming in agony. The blood drained from his face as he comprehended what he had just done. This was the first time he had used his machine when lives were at stake. And he had snapped, maiming several people in the process. Maybe they were terrorists, sure, but he hadn’t needed to cripple them! He looked at his hands, still gauntleted in the armature he was stationed at. He then clenched and unclenched his fists.
Besides. An eye for an eye would only make the whole world blind.
“...Right,” he said, moving forward with new purpose. “These guys might have backup, but I’m sure they have a commanding officer--”
And then the world exploded. Or at least, it looked like that from the perspective of Victor’s camera, since an anti-tank missile had just collided with Trion’s back, sending it face-first into the tarmac and causing it to slide along the runway. Victor’s heart rate was at a staccato as he frantically checked the damage report. It was actually all green. Whatever that explosion had come from, it hadn’t been designed to take out Nomad-class threats.
But it was still a high-powered explosive that was fired in an area full of innocent bystanders. This could not stand. After he pushed Trion to its feet once more, Victor looked towards the source of the explosion. It was an armored guy on a rooftop trying desperately to reload a rocket launcher. So Victor turned his drone’s head to face Selphia, saying. “Okay, change of plans, I’m gonna go deal with the crazy guys shooting fucking rockets at me before they blow up the whole airport. I’ll meet you when I’m done.”
And with that, Trion activated its rockets once more, flying up into the air at high-speed and landing right in front of the poor bastard who had just finally gotten his rocket reloaded. To Victor’s surprise, the man actually aimed his weapon at Trion’s chest at point-blank range. From this distance, he would not only blow up himself, but a good chunk of the building below him, and he’d probably cause a fire to boot.
Back on the ground, the Professor had also been flung a bit back by the rocket blast, only to haul himself back up. He was a bit scratched up, and his back hurt, but it’d be fine. He pulled himself upright, shaking off the dust, only to nod as Trion flew away. His head was spinning just a tad. Standing fully straight, he glanced around, noticing a few more fighters on the ground. A piece of concrete that had been broken loose was picked up, and flung at a group of attackers. Their fate? If they forgot the commandment of Piccolo...yeah they’d get bonked. The concrete would skip off their heads somehow, like magic, as if a rock on water. Only to hit the last guy right in the face, bowling him over. Four down, probably dozens more to go.
Victor reacted almost instantly. He wrested the rocket launcher from the man’s hands effortlessly and punched the man in the stomach, which winded him enough to make him fall to his knees, unable to really fight for a moment. From there, Victor kicked him in the face, hitting his jaw at juuust the right angle to knock him out. Then he inspected the weapon. If he knew missile launchers well enough, the firing mechanism was right where Trion had just torn out a large piece of circuitry and crushed it like tinfoil. Now it was useless. Afterwards, he disabled the warhead via a similar method.
Repeating the process six times in slightly different ways, he felt relatively certain that he had just taken out most if not all of their on-site heavy weaponry. They might arrive with more ordinance later, but at least he had prevented these guys from igniting the jet fuel in one of the planes. Now he just had to find the Professor again. Where was he now?
Looking around showed the Professor throwing more pieces of rubble at attackers, all while searching for any sign of the big bad boss of the level. If that was what term kids used these days. Come on, there had to be..he ducked as bullets whizzed past, a piece of rubble getting slung at the gunmen, hitting one right in the family jewels. If he was planning on having kids...well so long. Another had their knee broken, and on he went. Mostly keeping low, using the terrain to his advantage, avoiding expending anymore of his own innate reserves than he had to. Hopefully Victor was having a better time, right?
The missile launchers and their wielders thoroughly disabled, now was a good time for Victor to fly back down to ground level. Trion arrived back on the tarmac from its latest rooftop jaunt with a running start...which it used the momentum of to punch the nearest gunman out cold. A second soldier thought to try a different tactic, using a stun gun he had likely found a way to requisition to see if he could short-circuit Trion. Victor responded by turning around and, dodging the clumsy attempt to hit him with the electrified arc, punching him with a straight, a hook, and then an uppercut. The soldier wasn’t conscious after that.
With that, Victor puppeteered Trion over to Chris nearby, saying, “Alright, the ordinance is dealt with. I disabled the rocket launchers as well. Want to go for the CO now?”
A simple nod was given, as Chris kept his gaze level, seeking anything that seemed out of order, or might point in the right direction. Then he spoke, his voice soft, but loud enough for the other to hear. “If you saw anything suspicious from up there, let’s head there. Even if it’s not the boss, it’ll be something.”
“It’s total pandemonium down here, there wasn’t much to see. The soldiers are all black-suited goons, they must keep their insignia hidden. However, what I can confirm is that these guys are fanatically-loyal, possibly part of a cult or fundamentalist group. One of the rocketmen tried to fire a missile at point-blank range just to take me out. They’re not very skilled in a fight, but they’re pretty well-armed, at least for anything short of a Nomad. Considering that they attacked an airport full of Nomads, I’m pretty sure that these guys were either bubble wrap to cause terror or were going for a non-Nomad..I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a powerful Nomad waiting in the wings as insurance, since they must’ve known that their forces would be ripped to shreds by people like us.”
Trion held out its right hand and began to count off the possibilities as Victor spoke. “Either the leader is that Nomad, sending his goons to their deaths while he waits for an opportunity to strike or the leader is some sort of non-powered cult-guy who’s probably sequestered somewhere away from the action. If it’s a Nomad, I’d bet they’re nearby, and probably dressed in a similar color scheme if my ‘cult’ hypothesis is correct. The airport itself is likely deserted or in the middle of an evacuation. So we should go into the terminal and look for the people who are calmly standing around, probably dressed in black, and obviously sending out communications. Trion can intercept radio signals, so if they’re a Machine-type it should be obvious that they’re sending out radio transmissions. If they’re a regular human or Mythic they probably have some kind of laptop or phone, and if they’re doing it psychically or through magic I have no clue. Maybe you can help with that possibility.”
“I’ll see what I can do, though have you thought about going to airport security and checking camera feeds?” Even as Chris spoke, the Professor gazed around, looking for any sign of intact cameras, as if trying to pinpoint possible clues. “Yes, I know what those are, great for security, bad if trying to keep a low profile. That is one disadvantage to being a living myth, it becomes harder to hide as technology advances.” Hands shifted slightly, before slipping into pockets, a light hum coming from him. “How are you faring? This is pretty much pure chaos, so if you’re starting to feel overwhelmed, take some deep breaths.”
“Yeah...I think I’m gonna need therapy after what I’ve seen today.” An audible slow sigh could be heard from Trion’s speakers. Then Trion seemed to perk up. “Hang on a second,” Victor said. "I’ve got an idea.” Trion reached down to the man it had just knocked out cold and took off his helmet. “These helmets are full-face. Likely with some kind of HUD package, and the power seems to still be online. And as it happens, I built Trion to not be bulky.” He slipped the black helmet over Trion’s own head. “I may be able to view the roster for this mission, maybe get some info on who these guys even are.”
However, the helmet’s visor was just a transparent piece of some presumably super-strong plastic. “Shit. It doesn’t work without the suit,” Victor said. He reached down and ripped open the soldier’s backplate, jury-rigging it so that he could snake a power cable from the fanatic’s suit into the helmet’s connector...and put it on only to be greeted with an “ACCESS DENIED” message.
With that, Victor tossed the useless hunk of metal and plastic to the ground, ripping the wire he had just attached in the process. “Well that was pointless. It’s got a security system. Likely biometric.” He sighed. “Let’s just go to the security room, if we can get in without a fight.” With that, he turned and started running to the terminal, trying not to look at the carnage around him.
“Well, later after this is over, there’s a lady I know in Hong Kong who’s a therapist, we can stop by and see her.” That was the most the Professor offered, before he ran after, using a bit of parkour to hop any fences or debris that happened to pop up. He really felt bad for Victor, having to go through all this. Even for the mythic, he had trouble sometimes with senseless carnage. Despite the Crusades, two world wars, and a few proxy wars, and who knows how many other conflicts, he would probably never get used. Focus though. He kept pace with Trion, occasionally stopping if needed to check on any civilians, before following after. Hopefully whatever lay ahead...wouldn’t be too much worse, right?
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