PWP: 6.10 Build

Build 6.10

Bryce Kiley
2011, January 16: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

“So… That was a thing,” I said blithely in the middle of a Jiffy Lube garage. I strolled over to Aegis and poked the still-frozen boy. He was truly solid, like a marble statue. Grinning, I pulled out a permanent marker. “How long is he going to stay in stasis, Clock? And how upset would you be if I drew on him?”

“Eh, probably a few more minutes? My average is about five minutes,” the white-clad Ward replied. He crouched and pretended to fiddle with his shoes. “Go right ahead; I’ll just pretend to tie my shoelaces. If anyone asks, I didn’t see anything.”

“Console can hear you,” Gallant said wryly. “Stop messing around; we’re in for a lecture when we get back as it is.”

I put the marker away after only one dick on his mask. It was weird, like drawing on glass. The ink didn’t actually stick to him because he was inviolable at the moment. It’d probably soak into his mask once he unfroze. “How’d this even happen? I freed up Aegis to help you two with Leet.”

Clockblocker waved at our surroundings with a sheepish groan. All around, I could see different objects hanging in the air in a loose ring. “I started trying to pen Leet in so he couldn’t do that floating-swimming thing anymore. Then, Aegis and I went for the harpoon at the same time. We missed.”

“Why would you go for the harpoon? Wouldn’t it shock you even if you freeze it?”

“Sure, but I can afford to be out of commission. Leet can’t. I accidentally touched Aegis and…” he trailed off, shrugging helplessly. “It was calculated, alright?”

“Right… You suck at math. Well, no harm done, I guess. This place is probably insured and whatnot.”

“I’d rather not think like that. It’s still a crime, Creed,” Gallant said with an audible frown. “I would have thought you’d have taken them down easily.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

“Miss Militia gave us a briefing to stop messing with you,” Clock chimed in. “Apparently, you’re pulling your punches in a major way. It drove Shadow up the wall, before she got transferred, I mean.”

“Heh, that sounds like her,” I chuckled. I could imagine the girl seething with impotent hatred. Not every nuisance needed to be engaged with directly. “I guess I could have pulled out all the stops, but I was told that I should be careful to use proportional force. I mean, Miss Militia doesn’t snipe people from a mile away, right?”

“Right. That freeze ray would’ve been nice though. You could have taken out all the grunts early on.”

“You’re right, I could have. Not gonna lie, a part of me just really wanted to see how I’d do against Uber in a one-on-one punchout. I know I wasn’t fighting optimally. I saw that it was Uber and Leet and I just kinda turned my brain off a bit to enjoy the video game theme. Does that make sense?”

“It does. They do kinda straddle the line between serious and joke villains. It’s why we Wards get let off the leash with them,” Clock snorted. “Well, at least you’re honest. Did you have fun?”

“Eh, not really? Uber was a bit of a disappointment and I didn’t recognize either game they were cosplaying,” I grumbled, mostly for the sake of it. “I’m glad your bosses have accepted my heroic turnaround.”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly,” Gallant said. “Do you have any idea how pissed the director is with you and The GOAT? What’s with the race? What is The GOAT planning?”

“You official types are seriously no fun. Have you considered that sometimes, the silly street race is just a silly street race?”

“We did. Then we remembered that The GOAT is a high-level thinker,” Aegis said. The Wards leader had gotten unstuck at some point and floated over. “I don’t think anyone buys that you’re doing this for the giggles, Creed.”

“What you believe isn’t a factor. I have no other answer for you,” I replied, lying through my teeth. Thankfully, I didn’t crit-fail all my deception rolls like Omi. “I really am doing this for funsies.”

“Well, fine, you might be, but I refuse to believe The GOAT is allowing it just because you asked. They probably have a plan that requires those two jokers, maybe even Squealer for some reason.”

“Then don’t believe me. That’s okay, too. If they wanted to give you an explanation, I think it’s safe to say they would have by now. All I know is that I got the green light and that’s good enough for me.”

“You can’t say you want to cooperate with the PRT then pull stunts like this, Creed.”

“I mean… I never said that though? I said I was a hero, not that I’d work with the PRT most of the time. Damascus was a unique exception, not the rule. Think of me like Mouse Protector, but you know, with thinker support.”

“That thinker support is what everyone’s worried about!”

“Anyway, it’s been real, but I’ve got work to do. Toodles~”

“Wait, Creed!”

A plume of fog filled the lot as I hopped into the air and faded out of view. They probably thought I was super shady, but that was okay. This was honestly my favored outcome. Now, Uber and Leet were free to build whatever they wanted. They, Sabah, and possibly Squealer, would join me for my race.

Naturally, the heroes would have no choice but to show, if only to supervise. Maybe they’d try to arrest the villains. There was even a chance that Armsmaster would join in to try to prove his bike was superior before declaring me a villain as well.

A sharklike grin spread across my face. That sounded hilarious. Who said plans couldn’t also be silly?

X

2011, January 17: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

Monday was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day so we didn’t have school. That didn’t mean I did nothing. I drained my reserves working on the Eye, helped Sabah design something from Jack’s tech tree, and drove Amy up the wall. It was a productive holiday.

Amy stared at the drawing in front of us. She picked up a grapefruit that had been sitting in a bowl on my desk. Given my recent bout of vegetarianism, I’d been experimenting more with meat-flavored fruits, to mixed results. That one was supposed to taste like honey-habanero chicken wings from my favorite dive bar.

She took a bite, considered it a second, then glared at me as if I’d sodomized her sister. Gagging, she spat out the piece in her mouth before turning the whole thing into an indistinct, organic blob for daring to offend her taste buds.

“Eugh, that is vile…” She reached into her mouth with one hand and visibly drew her fingers down her tongue. At a guess, she was turning all residual organic particulates into something that didn’t taste like a chicken’s asscrack. 

Now that I thought about it, Amy was probably better off “brushing” her teeth with her finger than an actual toothbrush. This was probably true of every sort of personal hygiene. Even if she couldn’t affect her own body, that didn’t mean she couldn’t clean bacteria from her skin or mouth, after all.

She finally turned back to the topic at hand. “Bryce?”

“Yes, oh beloved, wise GOAT?” I answered, as if butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth. In front of us was our latest blueprint in all its Jack Spicer, evil boy genius, glory.

“Sabah?”

“Yes, Amy?” my partner-in-crime chimed. For someone with a supercar capable of declaring war on a small country, she was unnervingly good at the doe-eyed, innocent look. “What’s up?”

“Since when the hell did you two turn into Protectorate Pals mad scientists?”

“Now, that’s not fair. It’s just a telescope with an exothermic photon projector attached to it.”

“It literally says ‘Evil Telescope’ on top of your blueprint. And on the side of the scope. And don’t think I don’t know what an ‘exothermic photon projector’ means! That’s just a geeky name for a laser!”

“You can’t just assume that’s what it’ll look like. We’ll change the name once we finish,” Sabah said defensively, completely ignoring the fuck-massive laser. “This is just the planning phase.”

“Uh-huh,” Amy replied with flat disbelief. “It’s even got a footnote that says, ‘Anti-Comet Doom Laser,’ highlighted and triple-underlined.”

“W-Well…” she looked for an answer before stepping on my toes. “Bryce? Your turn.”

I gave her an exasperated sideeye. “Really?”

“Yes! I have no idea who ‘Jack Spicer’ is or why I feel the need to cackle at the sound of thunder!”

“Heh, fair enough. Look, you both already know this. My power gives me glimpses into a different world and in that one, Jack Spicer is a self-professed ‘evil boy genius.’ He’s got a certain aesthetic, alright?”

“Like labeling his invention the ‘Evil Telescope?’” Amy asked sardonically. She eyed another fruit on my desk, then decided against it. Her loss, that one actually did taste like a BLT.

“Exactly. It’s actually really impressive. Not only can it accurately track celestial bodies from the ground, it can fire a laser that can chip off a piece of a comet.”

“Why’s that a big deal? The tracking part, not the laser part. We’ll get to the laser in a bit, but isn’t that what all telescopes do?”

“A combination of factors, like urban light pollution and the simple presence of the atmosphere, makes it really hard to see things with clarity from the ground. That’s why satellites are so important for astronomy,” I explained. I patted the blueprint with a satisfied smile. “This baby here is pure, genius sci-fi bullshit. I don’t think you understand how impressive it is for a telescope to not only see a comet with clarity, but track it accurately enough to tag it with a laser, or for that laser to retain enough force to break off a chunk.”

“I don’t, no. Alright, fine, you crazy supernerds. I’ll bite. Are comets fast?”

“A comet’s speed varies depending on its proximity to the sun, because gravity. The closest point from the sun, called the perihelion, sees the highest speed while the farthest point, the aphelion, sees the slowest speed. With me so far?”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Comets are just cosmic rocks circling a flushed toilet, got it.”

“Exactly. But, ‘slow’ is relative here. For example, you know what the Halley’s Comet is, right?”

“Yes, of course. My parents said they had a viewing party back in the… Nineties? Eighties? Whenever that was.”

“Eighties. Anyway, at its perihelion, Halley’s Comet travels one hundred twenty-three thousand miles per hour. That’s mach one-sixty for context. At its aphelion, the comet slows way down to only two thousand two hundred miles, and a bit extra.”

“Huh… For a comet to be visible from earth, it’d have to be closer to the sun, right? Okay, so… crazy accurate telescope. It probably needs to be a laser because nothing but light travels fast enough.”

“That’s right. The Evil Telescope is honestly kinda silly if you think about it. Impressive, too. Jack Spicer is unironically a brilliant inventor. An edgy, goth boy with questionable taste in aesthetics, but still brilliant.”

“Okay, fine. The telescope can stay, but why the hell would you build the String Theory-esque doom laser attached to it?” she asked with disbelief. To her credit, String Theory was infamous for good reasons. She was also the Earth-Bet archetype of a mad scientist. “Just build the telescope and leave out the laser! Are you two idiots trying to get Birdcaged?”

“I mean… It wouldn’t blow up the moon even if we hit it dead on…” Sabah defended weakly. “Most comets are less than six miles across. Halley’s Comet is even smaller at just three point four miles. The laser we’re thinking of would only break off a small section of that.”

“Yeah, Ames. It’s more like a super-accurate laser with the yield of a tactical nuke, not some apocalypse-engine,” I added.

She reached over to shake me by the shoulders. “Bryce, no. You have tactical nukes in your supercar already. You don’t need the laser version!”

“You don’t know that… Actually, now that I think about it, using the Evil Telescope as a mounted rangefinder for beam-based weaponry comparable to nukes would be a significant upgrade…”

“Definitely worth considering,” Sabah nodded eagerly. “Although, we have a bit of an energy issue. The hybrid soda engine is super-efficient, but it just can’t output that much energy while also moving APEP, powering its force field, and everything else. Then there’s the stability to consider. And the firing rate is pretty awful in exchange for the extreme range and accuracy.”

“True… We’ll have to think about making a mobile turret that can be deployed from the car. It’ll drop like a tombstone, have its own engine, and use a scaled down version of the Evil Telescope. We can even hook it up to receive remote input. Jackbots are perfect for this sort of thing.”

Amy took one look at us and let out a sigh of defeat. “You know what? You two supernerds do whatever you want. Just… I still get veto rights on deployment!”

X

2011, January 18: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

Coach Miller had us playing tennis for the month of January. There were only four tennis courts so sixteen of us played doubles while the rest were supposed to warm up around the track. Kids being kids, we actually just walked around socializing and showed up courtside when he hollered our names.

“How was winter break?” I asked Eric.

The blue-haired boy had grown two inches over winter. He was finally starting to come into his genetics. His entire family was on the tall side, though I suspected it was partially power-related for his dad. Neil Pelham, Manpower, was a hulking, seven foot tall giant.

“It was good. I mean, it’s Christmas. Pot roast. Three types of pies. Four types of casseroles. You know, typical stuff. What about you? Heard you went to that holiday party thing at Aunt Carol's law firm."

“Don't remind me. It was miserable. Good food, horrible company.”

“Hah, I’m telling Amy you said that.”

“Oh, please, she’ll agree with me.”

“Yeah, probably. Funny thing about her. Did you know we met that Creed guy?” he said. We were just about the only two people doing any actual jogging. “He has a new teammate, a girl named Maven.”

“Cool. Is that what the Brockton Bay Grand Prix is about?” I asked guilelessly. Bryce Kiley had nothing to do with the cape scene, no sir. “If she’s another tinker, I bet this is some kind of advertisement campaign.”

“Nah, dude, she’s a striker-thinker who can diagnose health issues like Amy. I have no clue why she’s working with Creed, but she wanted Amy’s help getting set up. She must be important to Creed or The GOAT because they made Amy a super cool costume in exchange.”

“That’s good, right? Amy’s always going on about how there’s always another sick person at the hospital. Just having someone to help sort the patients should be an improvement. Plus, no offense to your family image and whatnot, but it always weirded me out that the girl with zero combat ability doesn’t even wear body armor.”

“We thought about that when Amy first triggered, but Aunt Carol said it looked too militaristic. She didn’t want people to think Amy was a combat medic, which might have the opposite effect of giving people the idea of gunning for her specifically.”

I winced at the hypothetical. “Yeah, fair enough. So… How good is Amy at roller blading? She doesn’t strike me as the sporty kinda gal.”

“Hah! She didn’t get those, dude. Her costume actually looks pretty much the same, but made with really durable stuff. Oh, and a force field generator and this thing that lets her change instantly into her costume like a Super Sentai character.”

“That’s pretty good. Maven must mean a lot to Creed if he loaded Amy up that much.”

“Exactly. I wouldn’t mind one of those quick-change soda cans. Honestly? Getting into a bodysuit is way uncomfortable,” he said conspiratorially. “Mom’s hoping that Creed keeps proving himself as a hero. Then, maybe she could ask for better costumes or tech for the rest of us.”

“Huh. I would have thought your parents hate him, what with the race he scheduled.”

“Oh, definitely. Aunt Carol hates him. She went on a forty minute rant about vigilantes and shady thinkers the other day. She’s probably going to stab him when they meet again.”

“Wait, seriously?” I asked with some alarm. “Isn’t she a vigilante too, technically speaking?”

“Not really, no. We’re registered heroes so we’ve got a lot more legal legitimacy than Creed and The GOAT. I’m not too sure about the details, but Aunt Carol swears they matter."

This was bad. I was woefully unequipped to engage in an epic lightsaber duel at the moment, something I should see about fixing soon. As the self-proclaimed greatest tinker alive, it was a disgrace that I lacked a dedicated melee weapon with sufficient sparkles.

Crown Chimera didn’t count. I maintained that it was better than a lightsaber, but it just didn’t have that simplistic appeal of a glowy stick. Besides, it was a regalia, and my primary mobility option.

“Well, I think Creed would be happy that your aunt can’t fly. How serious is she about the stabbing?”

“Eh, probably not literally. But yeah, she was majorly pissed. Personally? I think it’s kinda cool. It’s being held at like two in the morning, right? That’s probably the best way to do it.”

Despite living in a superpowered household, Eric was refreshingly normal. He was encouraged to work out by his dad, hence his athleticism, but that was the end of it. His biggest concern right now was the approaching Lunar New Year. Apparently, it was on February third this year and he wanted to surprise his girlfriend.

We kept chatting until the coach called Eric over to a tennis court. Coach Miller tried to match us with people in the same general athletic bracket. Eric ended up with all the jocks while I waited around for another fifteen minutes for an opening with the spaz-squad.

It was nice. I got to pretend I had no idea what I was doing while trying to make the ball curve a la Prince of Tennis. I failed. Turned out, perfect balance and general martial arts training didn’t translate to anime ball handling.

X

I finished the Eye of Dashi later that day. It allowed me to fix the stabilization issue with the alkahestry circle and begin making shen gong wu without my personal involvement. I immediately began making two, one set to the Eye and the other to me. 

The lesser of the two in queue was the Third Arm Sash, possibly the simplest wu. It was exactly what it said on the tin: It could be worn as a belt and acted as a third arm. It didn’t even boost perception or coordination so it was quite possible for the wearer to trip over their new appendage while using it. As far as magic artifacts went, it was a thoroughly unimpressive item.

But that was why it was perfect. Its simplicity meant I could make it quickly, with time to spare for the Brockton Bay Grand Prix. I didn’t care about the wu; it was something I could afford to gamble away. Hell, I planned to use it as the prize of the race. While others were busy making their supercars, I would be busy knitting a scarf. 

Ultimately, it was a proof of concept. A xiaolin showdown, the eponymous challenge that occurred when two or more parties fought for custody of a wu. I wanted to trigger it, a duel of truly dimension-shaking proportions. After all, knowing I could was one thing. Actually doing it was another.

A xiaolin showdown required three things to trigger: An agreed-upon prize, someone who could wield qi, and a challenge. Technically, the wu wasn’t necessary as the prize, but I wasn’t an expert and I had a feeling Earth-Bet wouldn’t be so cooperative without it. There was only so much I could do to fudge the rules, so the sash would provide a bit of symbolic conformity.

The race was the challenge. The wu was the prize. I was the qi-wielder. Ergo, the world would reshape itself for the duration of the challenge. This would create a dimensional anomaly, a “bounded field” within which outsiders would not be permitted to interfere, at least in theory.

Once again, it was a proof of concept. I needed to know that this was possible. An arena in which I could dictate the rules was far too great an advantage to forego. I hadn’t planned on this when I declared the race, but I was glad for the opportunity.

The second wu I was making would take much longer. I estimated eight days, and that even with the Eye working in the background to provide and regulate energy for the enchanting process. It was the exact opposite of the sash, arguably one of the most magically complex of all Dashi’s creations.

This was it, the primary lynchpin of my plan. Even if my xiaolin showdown idea ended up being a bust, I absolutely needed this.

Slowly, the plan was coming together.

Author’s Note

Welp, guess I’m back on the PWP grind. The polls have spoken.

Everything I said about the comet is true so I guess you get a bunch of astronomy facts on top of your animal fact. The telescope comes from season 2, episode 18. I wanted to show that the show does have more conventional sci-fi doodads and Amy freaking out over her two pet mad scientists is always fun.

To be honest, Amy’s concerns are completely valid.

Like, imagine you’re the PRT and you find out there is someone who can shoot at a comet from the ground. What Bryce didn’t mention was that the nearest Halley’s Comet has ever been to Earth was three million miles away. Successfully sniping this is the kind of shit that you’d expect from Warhammer 40k or Star Wars.

I’ve been using Halley’s as a real-world reference for the Heylin Comet in the show, but even if Wuya’s special rock was much closer, it’d still be in the hundreds of thousands of miles range at least. So yeah, respect Jack. The boy’s way smarter than you think he is. Or, you know, the show is really silly.

Ultraman was first released in 1961. Kamen Rider in 1971. Super Sentai in 1975. The Sentai Elite, the Protectorate equivalents of Japan, are based on these series. Eric knows what they are in the same way a Japanese person would probably recognize Superman. People keep ‘buT AcKshuLly” about Power Rangers not existing because Kyushu. Relax, they do and did long before Scion’s arrival.

Before you ask, no, you don’t need a shen gong wu of your own to participate in a xiaolin showdown. A wu-less showdown has occurred a few times in the show. What isn’t clear is whether the distorted dimension is perceivable to a random spectator, or if they can intervene once the showdown begins.

The show doesn’t clarify. There was the basketball episode in New York, but even then, we’re not sure if there were any spectators. So, I’m just making shit up and rolling with the JJK domain expansion rules for the most part.

Animal Fact: Like “fish,” “cobra,” and “tree,” “raptor” is not a valid classification for taxonomic purposes. It’s a broad, informal word to describe large, predatory birds and dinosaurs based on shared phenotypes, most notably the talons.

For example, the falcon's closest relative is not the eagle; it is the parrot.