Chapter Text
No one really knew what happened to Armsmaster.
Taylor had been paying much more attention to cape news since she’d become one, not that she could have missed it even if she hadn’t. The Protectorate leader had been fighting a gang of mercenaries, one of whom had the ability to alter the landscape, when he simply vanished. The gang had been captured soon after. Armsmaster had a lot of friends, or reading between the lines, had a lot of people who owed him favors and they had come to take down those responsible for his likely death.
Up until then the story had been fairly straightforward, if sad. It was only on the interrogation of the shaker, a girl whose powers had driven her somewhat insane, that they learned even she had no idea what she’d done. In her periods of lucidity she referred to drawing from other worlds. The leak of that interview transcript of a minor without a lawyer had embarrassed the local PRT, but it had led to some small hope that Armsmaster wasn’t dead, just lost.
No one really believed that of course, in a world with the Endbringers hopes like that weren’t worth having. Nonetheless Dragon, who had written a heartfelt eulogy, purchased the building where Armsmaster had been lost and set up devices that were rumored to be searching through alternate universes. Nothing seemed to come of it.
As time went by people, and Taylor, thought less of the incident. The Simurgh attack was enough to push it even from local news, and Taylor’s costume was nearing completion. If as a tribute to a hero she admired as a child her armor had a slightly blueish sheen, well she thought it looked good and made her slightly less villainous looking.
Sneaking out of the house and calling a swarm around her was everything she’d hoped for as she moved deeper into the city. She knew the docks were a rougher area, but they also had the building Dragon had taken over. If worst came to worse she could just flee there and use the defenses the tinker had installed to save herself, they’d already proven themselves against the Merchants.
After a fruitless hour it turned out she wasn’t the first to have that idea. She heard the explosions with her own ears first, she still didn’t have a good grasp on her bugs’ senses. Once she knew something was coming her power gave her a pretty good picture though. Lizard monster things with riders were fleeing a rather different lizard monster thing, a fire breathing dragon in fact. From the brief contact her bugs made with the supervillain he was already surrounded by rock hard scales and gouts of flame washed over him.
She looked to her tools, pepper spray wasn’t going to cut it. A moment of indecision gripped her. Taylor had gone out to be a hero, but she knew she didn’t have a chance against Lung. She turned to flee- then pulled up short.
An armored suit was standing behind her, over her, and was looking down at her with glowing eyes.
“Hello there.” The voice was female but other than that non-descript. “You’re new.”
Taylor’s thoughts ground to a halt, then rallied. “Lung’s coming!” It might not have been the ideal introduction, she’d pictured handing over an entire gang tied with spiderweb or something else suitably impressive, but at the time it seemed important to share the pertinent details.
Dragon’s suit seemed to stiffen as its head turned to look towards the approaching villains. “Yes, and.. the Undersiders. Perhaps you should seek shelter?”
All around them turrets rose from the buildings, Dragon had apparently further fortified the area since the Merchants had visited. Her suit had taken on a glossy sheen as well. Taylor’s bugs were suddenly unable to grip the metal that felt like a liquid.
“On second thought, too late.” A door to the building whooshed open, and Dragon’s suit pointed at it with one limb. “Unless you have enhanced strength or speed you need to go in there.”
Taylor looked back, the light of Lung’s flames were visible, and nodded. She didn’t need to be outside to help, her bugs would do the fighting for her. She broke into a run to the door just as thrusters seemed to unfurl from Dragon’s suit’s back and launched her into the air.
The door slammed shut behind her as a single sharp crack split the air. Her bugs were disoriented by it, but she forced them to focus. Dragon’s suit was in the air, flying in tight circles as it fired something at Lung who had abandoned his pursuit of the others in favor of battling the tinker. She tried to swarm him with her bugs, but between the shockwaves of Dragon’s weapon and the flames very few made it. Those that did bit, but based on how fast the gaping holes Dragon was leaving in him healed she doubted that her venom did anything.
She was transfixed enough by her bugs that the sudden sparking behind her startled her, a sphere of pure black was rapidly growing and emitting bolts of lightning at the sensors focused on the site of Armsmaster’s disappearance. For a moment she was afraid that the sphere would keep expanding and consume her, but it slowed once it was about ten feet in diameter and the crackling electricity died down.
Taylor palmed her pepper spray and tried to draw bugs to her, but the building was nearly impenetrable after Dragon’s improvements. There wasn’t much she could do but wait, well wait and hide so that’s what she did, ducking behind something she thought might be a generator.
She was just in time. Heavy footsteps, no two sets of heavy footsteps emerged from the sphere, before they both stopped.
“So this is where you came from then? From your story I had imagined it to be a bit more dilapidated.”
Another voice, one she recognized from the news answered. “Doubtless they were trying to see what happened to me. I recognize some of this equipment-”
“Dimensional stuff, yeah, it’s responding to the harmonics. I think ours turned out better-”
Whatever else the man was going to say was interrupted by Dragon’s suit smashing through the ceiling. Lung followed, more deserving of the tinker’s name than man now, punching his own hole through the wall while wreathed in flame. Through sheer luck the generator shielded Taylor from the burning debris, but it wouldn’t for long.
“What the hell is that Colin!” Two spears of light smashed Lung into the wall, but it only seemed to make him mad as he rebounded from the crater he left. His roar was loud enough to shake the air, before a second set of the lasers hit him in the open mouth.
“Codenames Iron Man!” Pencil thin beams stuttered out then, hitting Lung in the eyes over and over again, making the brute shield his face with a heavily scaled arm. “We need to end this now! He only gets stronger!”
“Can do!” Red beams sliced forth, and Lung’s limbs simply fell. His torso hit the ground surrounded by his separated legs but it didn’t put him down, he writhed forward serpentine with flames gathering in his mouth. Taylor stood to run, this fight was beyond her, and she got her first look at the combatants.They were both armored, one in the blue and gray associated with Armsmaster and the other in bright red and gold. The other must be Iron Man.
“So if you’ve got something Co- Armsmaster,” Iron Man tried his lasers again but they didn’t seem to penetrate this time. Lung’s face was split but it was regrowing into something alien, and his limbs weren’t far behind. “Because I didn’t bring any city-busters.”
Armsmaster didn’t answer, instead leaping forward assisted by rockets from his boots. His halberd rose, and then he slammed Lung with the butt. The villain froze, his flames flickering out instantly.
“Nice one, so-”
“It won’t last long!” Get the girl out of here!”
Iron Man nodded, and with a long hop he was next to her. “Don’t get too excited sweetheart.” He grabbed her around the chest and surged into the air. Beneath them the rapidly receding Armsmaster was still holding his weapon onto the frozen Lung, but something else was moving before they were out of view. Air rushed around them as Iron Man sank down onto a brightly lit street and dropped her. “Love the costume! If heroing doesn’t work out give that a shot.” The last words were shouted as he rocketed back into the sky, curving back towards the fight.
Taylor didn’t really know what to do, the few people out at two in the morning were looking at with awe. Part of her wanted to go back, but her rational side quashed it. She couldn’t do anything to help, and saving her had already cost Armsmaster an ally. All she could do was hope, or she could go back and wait for the fight to finish. Pulling a shroud of bugs around her made her feel a little less exposed as she started jogging towards the flames. Lung didn’t often kill heroes, but he did put them down hard. If any of the tinkers lost they might need help, and she knew a little first aid.
_____
Armsmaster wasn’t an idiot. He knew that statement was often proof of the opposite, but he’d done enough and passed enough tests to know that he was smart, even ignoring his power. That also meant he was at least somewhat aware of what other people thought of him. Socially stunted, a glory hound, desperate, and worst of all, fading.
No one said that to his face of course, and to the public he made sure to always present an unassailable image, but he knew what his subordinates and colleagues thought. As long as it didn’t impact their performance he just didn’t care. He’d given up a lot to be a hero, his colleagues’ admiration or affection was just one more thing. He couldn’t deny that finding himself on the side of the road somewhere in the northern hemisphere with no contact with anyone made their opinions a little less important.
“System start transcription. Mark the time and designate it as patrol forty-three fifty one.” He’d written the software to record his dictated reports years ago and had found it useful in a variety of situations. Human memories were flawed, and there were powers that warped them even further. Having a recording of his thoughts in addition to what he said and saw had been extremely useful in devising counters to new parahumans on several occasions. It was also a slight indulgence to monologue.
“After battling the parahuman gang under the criminal mercenary Faultline’s leadership as described in patrol forty-three fifty I’ve found myself in an unknown location with no communications with Protectorate ENE. Working hypothesis is that Labyrinth, shaker 12, is in some way responsible.”
Before he’d found himself here the fight had been going so well. He didn’t know what Faultline was up to, but he’d managed to get past Newter almost effortlessly at the cost of a single containment foam grenade. He’d found Labyrinth alone then, already starting to warp the landscape. He’d tranquilized her as foam alone wouldn’t hold her and it was safer than knocking her unconscious. Things after that were a blur, quite literally and his senses had only cleared up when he found himself at the side of the road. He’d already reviewed the camera footage, it had matched quite well with his memory.
“GPS system is not operating, onboard diagnostics confirm its functionality.” He wasn’t in Brockton Bay, that’s for sure, the plants around him showed no signs of winter. “Testing stellar navigation system.” His HUD told him to look to the sky and he did, the infrared cameras attempting to identify the stars and their position. The north star gave him his latitude and a quick comparison of the sun’s position and the time gave him his longitude. “Stellar navigation appears operable, current location 30.52 N, 97.62 W, just outside of Round Rock Texas, and as predicted,” Armsmaster turned and saw the road sign, “on US route 79.”
“Communications are down, despite being within nominal range of the local Protectorate and PRT branches.” On a whim he toggled on his FM receiver, pop music flooded his headphones and he shut it off. “Over the air radio works, television,” the square in his display that should have shown a channel listing was blank, although he could tell he was receiving signals in the proper frequency range. “Not operable.”
The sun was beating down on him, and armor that was comfortable in a northeastern winter was rather less so under the Texan sun. Luckily it wasn’t that warm yet, but moving off the road and into the shade only seemed prudent. He also took a drink from the water tank integrated into his armor, it was important to stay hydrated.
“Two hypotheses present themselves. First, Labyrinth and her allies have up until now concealed the true abilities and I’m currently locked in an elaborate simulation, possibly aided by Newter’s secretions. I judge that unlikely, though obviously non-falsifiable.” Armsmaster pulled up a few more sensor readouts and added the screenshot to the report. “Second, I’ve been transported to a parallel universe, designated Earth Gimel. This conclusion is based on several divergences in communications protocols and a notable lack of Behemoth induced atmospheric radiation. In either case I shall proceed with the approved Protectorate plan for first contact with parallel universes.”
It was just his luck that it would involve a walk.
_____
Armsmaster bypassed Round Rock despite the slowly increasing temperature. From the brief summary stored on his onboard navigation he’d expected it to be larger, but several roads and the police station weren’t where they were supposed to be. He suspected that the cities had seen less of an exodus in a world without Endbringers, which was inconvenient. The larger roads seemed to match up well, the vagaries of terrain ensured that, but he’d have to find new maps at some point instead of relying on his armor’s memory.
He’d also have to write entirely new protocols for his suit, that would be irritating. The world seemed close to Bet which was encouraging, there were no doubt many subtle changes but he could hope that he wouldn’t be starting from scratch. Computer languages were likely to be similar, C++ dated back to just prior to Scion’s arrival, but there were a hundred ways to solve most computer problems and it was extremely unlikely that two worlds had chanced upon the same ones. Even Aleph, hypothetically the closest world, had divergences even if the communication between universes had begun to remove them.
Dragon wouldn’t have had that problem he was sure. He’d never met anyone who was as fast at coding as her. She’d probably already have something to get internet access. Just because she was better didn’t mean he couldn’t take a crack at it though. He was perfectly capable of typing while walking, and he was currently far enough off from the road that the motorists wouldn’t spot him.
Spinning up his secondary hard drive, it was slower and held nonessential programs, he pulled up CableCroc and started searching for network traffic. The frequencies used for cellular traffic and Wi-Fi were both busy, however as he’d feared they were gibberish. He tried running through older standards, hoping that one of them would roughly match, but he didn’t have any luck. The signals were probably encrypted anyway, he didn’t doubt that he could get into the system but it would take more time and brainpower than he could spare while walking down the highway.
Closing the program after setting it to record incoming signals let him move his arms freely again. He’d incorporated haptic feedback into his gloves to further simulate a keyboard, but ever since Clockblocker had started calling him the T-rex typist he’d been reluctant to use it. It was a relief to let his arms swing as he walked though. He still had a few miles, but he’d probably be picked up by police once he entered the city limits. With his halberd on his back and his power armor he’d be noticed and it would prompt a call. Hopefully he wouldn’t have much trouble explaining himself. Once any of his equipment was examined its strangeness would be evident, at that point he’d be bumped up the chain.
That would still leave him trapped in an alternate universe, but he doubted that Faultline’s crew would be able to evade the full force of the Protectorate. Once they had Labyrinth in custody a deal would be worked out for her to open a portal. She would need her rating adjusted, but Shaker 12 didn’t leave much room for improvement. Failing that, he’d seen some of Haywire’s work. If he had nothing to distract him he could probably get back himself.
He didn’t even have to vocalize the thought for Murphy to strike. A red light- one of the very scary red lights in his HUD- lit up and hours of training took over. He sprinted into the woods, drawing his halberd and extending it to ts full length. Two eye twitches and a chin nod activated his emergency transmitter before he set it to an adaptive jamming protocol. Someone or something had a targeting radar painting him and it was only the dry grass that prevented him from shooting a flare to obscure his thermal signature.
It might have been futile anyway, he was running through the woods and somehow the radar was still tracking him even as he blanketed the airwaves with noise. Suddenly he was in a clearing, someone’s backyard and he spun, halberd in front of him as he swept the sky. He hadn’t heard a helicopter, and if a jet was low enough to target him specially he would have noticed it. That left a drone of some sort, and those could be the next best thing to invisible with the proper camouflage systems.
Armsmaster killed his jamming, it was clearly useless and turned on his own radar. His halberd functioned as an antennae to amplify the signal and he began sweeping the sky before it was immediately unnecessary. The drone, no the suit, dropped out of the sky in front of him, standing on jets of flame.
For a moment they just stared at each other, Armsmaster kept his halberd pointed just away from the bright red armor before the other tinker cut his rockets and dropped to the ground.
“So who are you supposed to be?” The amplified voice was curious. “I didn’t realize that we had any other entrepreneurs building their own suits.”
The presence of a parahuman wasn’t entirely unexpected, and in some ways it even made his task easier. However that didn’t mean that the tinker was friendly, or even not a villain. Parahumans were driven to conflict, and in a world where they lacked worthy opponents that might mean they just fought everyone.
“Going for the silent crusader sort of thing then?” Colin hadn’t thought he’d taken that long to consider his answer, but the other man forged on. “I’m not sure it really fits with running through the woods. I think you need a cape, a dark skyscraper and maybe some personal tra-”
“I’m Armsmaster.” He set his halberd’s haft onto the ground in an effort to look non threatening while still keeping it in position. “Leader of the Protectorate ENE. Who are you?” His title was meaningless here, but if the other parahuman was associated with an organization it might help build common ground.
“Really?” The man almost seemed offended. “You’re prancing around in armor and you don’t recognize me?” The suit’s faceplate flipped open revealing a middle aged man. “I’m Tony Stark. You know? Iron Man.”
Secret identities apparently weren’t a thing here. Armsmaster wasn’t about to reciprocate, even ignoring the fact that he couldn’t as his helmet was a solid forging. “Are you a representative of the government?”
“You really don’t follow the news do you?” Stark tilted his head quizzically. “Your armor is pretty impressive for a shut-in, but the last guy I met literally built his in a shack in Russia so I guess it’s not impossible.”
Equivocation meant no, even though his lie detector hadn’t flagged any statements yet. It was still experimental though. “So you don’t represent the government of the United States.”
“Nope.” He popped the p in a way that seemed calculated to be annoying. “Just a red-blooded American doing my part to keep the nation safe. You seriously missed all of this?”
Well he claimed to be good, and the lie detector was still silent so he was probably telling the truth. Even if he wasn’t Armsmaster had seen a terrified face through the window of the house they were in the backyard of. The police would probably be here soon. “Yes, and there’s a simple explanation that may seem unbelievable. I’m from-”
“A parallel universe! Do they not use Cs over there? Did Dewey defeat Truman? Or,” Stark paused, jubilant, “are there airships?”
“Yes, no, no, and they’re infrequent.” The logical leap was surprising, but they might have encountered other worlds before. “I’m an agent of law enforcement on Earth Bet and-”
“You guys big on gambling? Or could you not snag Aleph?”
Ignoring Assault often was the best move, something that seemed likely to work well here as well. “I’ve been transported here through unknown means. We are in contact with Earth Aleph, and it was designated as the first as they mostly lacked an obvious divergence, namely parahumans.”
“Parahumans?” The curiosity was back in Stark’s voice. “People with what? Superpowers?”
“Exactly.” Sirens were just becoming audible through his suits auditory enhancements, so Armsmaster lifted and retracted his halberd before the police arrived. Having visible weapons in hand was usually just the thing to make them uncomfortable. “I guess you have them as well?”
“Special people? They’re crawling out of the woodwork these days.” Stark seemed to notice the sirens as well, twisting fluidly to look over his shoulder. His armor was beautiful, even if Armsmaster didn’t have a clue how he was powering it. Already he’d spotted several improvements he could incorporate into his own, as well as a few possible upgrades for Stark’s. He’d have to know a bit more before he suggested them though, often tinkers had a reason for the things they did.
“I presume the police will recognize you then?” Stark nodded, slightly distracted. Armsmaster considered using his directional microphone to try to eavesdrop but he didn’t think it would be especially useful since Stark’s ears weren’t visible. “Will you vouch for me with them? We have protocols for first contact and-”
“I can do you one better actually. We’ve got an organization here that snaps up all sorts of special people. I’ll tell the cops you’re with me, a failed field test or something, and I’ll take you with me so you can get the full picture.” Stark’s faceplate flipped down and his harsher amplified voice returned. “Fury and SHIELD would think they’re the correct people for you, but I’m not as sure. I’ll fill you in, or give you the tools so you can find out yourself, and if you disagree they’re only a phone call away.”
He seemed sincere, but there was so much Armsmaster didn’t know about this world. Trusting Stark might work out, but he wasn’t willing to bet the Protectorate’s relationship with this world entirely on a promising lie detector and an alleged vigilante hero.
“I do appreciate it, however I do have orders for this situation. Last time nearly kicked off an interdimensional war, I’m disinclined to take chances.” A police car just then came racing up the street before screeching to a halt.
“Well maybe that’s wise then.” Stark seemed to accept his reasoning. “Give me a call when you can though. If they don’t let you and try to disappear you I’ll do my best to get you out. The cops at least will be pretty polite if I say you’re cool.”
“Very well then.” Armsmaster started walking slowly towards the front of the house, Iron Man at his side. The suburban police officers froze when they saw them, so he took his last immediate chance to talk to his fellow tinker. “How are you powering that thing anyway? Even our best fusion reactors would mean you were missing limbs or organs in that.”
Stark’s smirk was audible. “Who says I'm not?”
_____
The local police had been quick to transport him to the Austin FBI branch, especially after Stark had vouched for him. He’d surrendered his halberd after carefully ensuring it was completely locked down and warning the agents not to mess with it. He didn’t think they’d be able to do anything to it without extensive time and effort, but the fuel cells were extremely energetic and sufficient violence towards them could have negative effects on the surrounding areas. The FBI had been less certain what to do after that, so he was now waiting in an interview room with a cup of lukewarm water watching the agents panic through their one way mirror.
Their confusion was entirely understandable, if a little irritating, but Armsmaster had found a way to entertain himself. Stark had apparently noticed that his suit’s systems operated on entirely separate standard when they met. He was sure if he reviewed the transmission logs he’d discover intrusion attempts, but as he was squeezing himself into the squad card his suit had flagged a transmission using a thoroughly archaic protocol. Reviewing the data in a separate quarantined virtual machine had revealed it to be extensive text files, everything from wireless standards to a brief history of the modern world and the few extant parahumans. It was a thoughtful gesture, and coding his own version of this universe’s WiFi was enough to occupy him while he waited.
At last, after after forty minutes of furious coding which had let him start to make sense of the various networks around him, his ultrasonics alerted him to someone walking down the hall towards his room. The observation chamber through the mirrored glass had also filled up, so Armsmaster reluctantly closed his editor and straightened up and waited for whoever was coming to enter.
The man who came in could have been pulled from any bureaucracy Armsmaster had ever dealt with. He had the look of a man whose primary concern was the correct filing of income tax forms, but there were signs of martial training that Armsmaster’s long experience revealed. Well subtle signs and the gun in the shoulder holster that his millimeter band radar had highlighted. He wasn’t sure why Dragon objected to him having that on all the time, it efficiently penetrated clothing to reveal weapons as well as a wide variety of Strangers. He was in an entirely different world now though, he felt confident he wouldn’t find her riding along watching his video feeds and making snide comments this time.
The man seated himself and put the documents he was holding down on the table, slowly fanning them out. Armsmaster recognized it as a stalling tactic designed to keep the initiative in the agent’s hands and used the time to pull up Stark’s dossiers. In the data packet he’d included a cursory summary of several hundred people. They couldn’t be entirely relied upon, but if the agent was one of the listed individuals it could be helpful. The ASCII headshots were a nice touch as well.
After a moment where the agent seemed to be ignoring him while reading the papers but was actually keeping Armsmaster at the edge of his peripherals he straightened and put his hands on the table. It was a gesture meant to build trust, one that would work better if Armsmaster wasn’t aware of the numerous agents waiting outside the door and in the observation room who were shifting nervously.
“Good afternoon Armsmaster, I’m Special Agent Phil Coulson of the FBI.” If it hadn’t been for his lie detector he would never have questioned the statement. The program had only been triggered by the last part of the sentence though, he was likely a member of another group of the executive. He hadn’t lied about his name though, so Armsmaster ran a search through Stark’s file and had to work to suppress his reaction to what he found. If the agent, apparently a member of some sort of quasi-national secret police if Stark could be believed, noticed he didn’t say anything. “I’ve reviewed your file and I think it’s fair to say I have a few questions.”
Stark could be right or wrong, either way he’d go forward with the first contact protocol’s directives. “Please proceed, I’ll answer all questions permitted by my current orders.” The plans had foreseen possible duplicity and thus included instructions to avoid mentioning any weaknesses to possible adversaries. No one really expected a world freshly meeting other universes to invade Earth Bet, who’d want to be anywhere the Endbringers were? But there was no point in oversharing.
“Excellent, I’ll try to make this as painless as possible.” The lie detector’s readout was a slight comfort, before Coulson launched into an impressively thorough interrogation. At last, after literal hours that didn’t seem to trouble the faux bureaucrat at all, Armsmaster had had enough.
“Agent Coulson are you permitted to negotiate on behalf of the United States government?”
Coulson kept taking notes as he answered, “Armsmaster, surely you understand that we have procedures prior to allowing you to meet with ranking members of the government. Your story is somewhat outlandish you’ll agree.” The agent’s words didn’t contain lies, but they didn’t contain an answer either.
If he wanted to test the agent against Stark’s dossier he’d have to start asking more direct questions. Directly questioning Coulson’s SHIELD affiliation would reveal too much, knowledge was power, but there were other more oblique approaches.
“Is the FBI going to decide when I can speak with someone with authority?”
“We’re only in charge of finding out more information. The ultimate decision will not be made by the FBI.” His detector was useless, and worse the agent seemed more alert now that Armsmaster had broken the pattern. “The sooner you answer our questions, the sooner you can meet with others.”
Coulson wasn’t a member of the FBI and was deliberately stringing him along, Armsmaster was certain of that. However he didn’t really have a choice but to accept it. At the moment violence was out of the question, and even if it weren’t he wasn’t too sure of his chances of cleanly escaping an FBI branch office. His SLAM program had built a floor plan, but even after he subdued all agents in his path he’d still be trapped in a world with no funds nor resources. Tinkers were especially vulnerable to being caught during their gearing up period and Armsmaster was no different. No, he’d be patient for now and work on establishing communications to the outside world.
Thankfully after another hour of questions Coulson seemed satisfied. “I think we’re done for today, your cooperation has been appreciated.” The agent stood, gathered his notes and smiled before opening the door to let two others in. “These gentlemen will show you to your room, would you like anything special?”
“Water will be sufficient.” He had emergency nutrient gels in his armor, they saved time that could be better spent instead of eating and he wasn’t entirely sure he trusted the food here to be safe. Stark’s notes about SHIELD had included a wide variety of speculation and he wasn’t entirely willing to trust his health to their good nature. He’d be sleeping in his armor for the foreseeable future, conveniently his bodysuit was designed to be anti-microbial as well as anti-odor.
Ever since he read Dune he’d always wanted a stillsuit. His under-armor wasn’t quite that but it did incorporate many of the innovations he’d invented while making one. It was somewhat lucky that he had been transported here when he was, his next iteration was going to remove many of the features in favor of improved armor that would allow him to reduce his suits overall weight.
The two agents led him to a small on base apartment, likely for witness protection or something similar, ushered him in and then closed and locked the door. Armsmaster looked around the room, it could have been in any hotel in America, ignoring the lack of windows. There was the requested case of bottled water on a desk, but something else caught his eye. There were wires on the desk, a cabinet and the bedside table, all with their matching devices removed. They apparently didn’t want to leave anyway for him to communicate with the outside world, if he hadn’t been a tinker it might have worked.
A quick glance at the water told him it could wait until later, his first priority was to locate any bugs and recharge his armor. It had been a long and frustrating day, at this point all he really wanted to do was sketch new designs inspired by Stark’s armor, so he had a harder than usual time of not using his first anti-eavesdropping device, a short radius EMP.
Instead, he pulled up a scanning program to check for radio emitters and then began emitting regular ultrasonic pulses across a variety of wavelengths. The microphones would either resonate with the pulses or transmit in response to the noise, that would let him locate them even if they weren’t actively sending information. The cameras were easy to spot, his visor could look through the same IR transparent screens they did. There didn’t seem to be any blind spots, that was unwelcome but hardly unexpected. He’d just have to restrict his activities.
Using a wall outlet to charge his armor was a usage case he’d planned for, it was just irritating compared to the rapid chargers in his lab. That would be one of the first things he replicated here, being able to minimize his suit’s downtime was essential. His only solace was that he could use his productively and continue writing the wireless communication protocols for access to the world.
It went quickly, as he made more progress he noticed similarities between his world’s version and theirs which allowed him to skip most of the work. He was about to start working on an extremely basic internet browser when he noticed a final note in the standard. Stark had included a hidden network’s name and password. Initializing a new virtual machine he connected to the network and shortly after received a packet of information, as well as something more immediately interesting, Coulson’s report on him to a Director Fury.
_____
After the second full day of questioning Armsmaster had had enough. He liked to think of himself as somewhat stoic, able to endure hardships without complaint, but there were only so many times he could go over the minutia of the Protectorate that he was cleared to share. Coulson was unceasing though, asking the same questions over and over throughout the interview. He was trying to get more information than Armsmaster was willing to share, and just recognizing the tactic didn’t make it ineffective. Coulson kept jumping back and forth, prying and searching for more or discrepancies. His lie detector was calibrated now, and Armsmaster was confident Coulson believed his story, but the agent just didn’t stop.
His patience was coming to an end, along with his tolerance for staying in his armor. Stilsuit or no, after sixty odd hours it was beginning to smell decidedly musty. It was time to get out. Taking advantage of Stark’s wireless network and the agent’s coffee break Armsmaster started to more actively penetrate the building’s firewalls.
What he found was disconcerting, his accumulated file was gone, there was no record of him being present and the sole mention of any ‘visitor’ was an NSA consultant. He was familiar enough with government agencies to know they were sustained by paper trails, the sudden lack of one anywhere in the FBI database for him didn’t fill him with confidence. Stark had shared enough about SHIELD that he was reluctant to give them the benefit of the doubt, especially if they were lying to the FBI. Coupled with the numerous agents just outside the door and filling the rooms around them, his prototype ranged EKG doubled nicely as a way to see through walls, he felt justified in a little paranoia.
“Agent Coulson.” He cut the man off before he could ask another question. “I believe it’s time for us to lay our cards on the table. I know you’re not affiliated with the FBI in any capacity.” He stood, in his armor he towered over the man even from across the table, and took a step towards the door. “I’ve cooperated with SHIELD,” he’d always be grateful to Stark just for causing Coulson’s slight surprise at his knowledge, “long enough.” He took another step towards the door, his newly activated sonar showing the agents behind it backpedaling nervously. “My incarceration is at an end one way or another. I will be going to address the Governor now.” He reached for the door, watching for any sign from Coulson.
It was a bluff, but he had one more card to play before things permanently escalated, his halberd. He sent the signal for it to boot up and hopefully make them think twice. He’d added sound effects to increase its intimidation by an unmeasurable amount, although he estimated it was twenty percent. It didn’t signal back though, which unless it had been placed in a faraday cage or had been moved- when was the last time it had sent a status update?
Coulson was saying something, but this was more important. If they’d taken his halberd despite promising not to- it’s last check-in had been a day ago, still with 92% battery. His halberd was gone. Coupled with the deletions one conclusion was seeming far more plausible. Coulson didn’t quail when he spun back towards him, which spoke volumes about his character, but Armsmaster didn’t need his opponents to fear him. “What will it be Agent?”
Even with the threat Coulson didn’t seemed phased, something Armsmaster would have approved of in most circumstances, but his actions told the story. His left hand was moving towards a panic button and his right for his shoulder holster. The foam grenade didn’t let him get either and then Armsmaster had other concerns.
He grabbed the door a bare instant before the agents outside could burst in, his boosted strength kept the door from opening as they smashed into the solid steel. “System, cut it.” The environmental systems for the building were disturbingly open, so much that he had almost added a firewall for the taxpayers, but that laxness worked for him. The sudden complete darkness, he’d managed to take out the emergency lights too, stunned his opponents and he used the confusion to his advantage.
He ripped the door open, the closest agent fell onto him before his gauntlet’s taser knocked him out. From there it was simple. He could see, they couldn’t and even past that he was wearing power armor while being just as well trained as they were. He was through the hallway and the squad in seconds before breaking into a run.
The running clock on his HUD told him fifteen seconds had taken place since his breakout, he probably had a minute more before the FBI and SHIELD got their acts together and he needed to be gone by then. He was on the fifth floor but his worm had locked every single door in the base. Most potential adversaries would be trapped in their offices. The stairs were an option but they were on the exterior of the building and had windows, he wouldn’t have darkness there.
It was a price he’d have to pay. His sprint took him to the stairs and a single punch smashed the door’s lock before he hurdled the bannister. Screams greeted him as he bounced down the stairwell, his armor charging with each cushioned landing. Eighteen seconds later he was on the ground floor busting out into the lobby. A near panicked guard saw him- an adaptive tranquilizer dropped him before his gun was even up and Armsmaster didn’t break his stride as he smashed through the glass doors into the bright sunlight.
Here was where his plan started to break down, Stark had included several programs that remotely started cars and a cursory analysis had made their functions seem probable, but a car chase wasn’t what he wanted. Despite SHIELD’s duplicity he didn’t doubt that the FBI would make every effort to bring him in, and they’d bring the entire force of the state with them. Nonetheless he leaped into a blacked out Suburban and sent Stark’s second program which would brick the others’ computers. With a squeal of rubber he was out of the parking lot, avoiding the guards and spike strip by the simple expedient of driving on the grass.
Swerving onto a northern highway he signaled for Stark, hopefully the tinker was as good as he claimed or his escape was going to be a real short trip.
“Stay on 183.” Stark was talking almost before the connection had been established. “There’s an APB out for that car right now but I’m interfering with the highway cameras and there aren’t any cops near you.”
“Roger that.” The acceleration of the Suburban wasn’t anything like what his motorcycle could do, but there was something satisfying about being behind a roaring V8. “What’s the next step?”
“You’re going to get as far north as you can without discovery, and then you’re ditching that piece of junk.”
“And then?” He’d always liked car chases, he rarely got the chance due to his responsibilities and focus on parahumans but as he swerved around a particularly offensive vehicle he was wondering if he should give Squealer or Leet some tips.
“Well if you’re still insistent on meeting with the government we’ll do that, but if you meant immediately you’ll change cars and we’ll drive to the airport.” From the background noise it sounded as if Stark were driving too. “Speaking of, what soured you on the various agents?”
“When SHIELD deleted all of the FBI’s records about me I decided I’d better go before I followed suit.”
“So SHIELD got their grubby little hands involved? Figures. Who was it?”
“Agent Coulson, the dossiers were appreciated.” Traffic was thinning out as he raced north, the onboard navigation was showing greater spaces between roads as he moved further from Austin.
“Well I hope you didn’t hit him too hard, despite his slimy ways he’s not entirely terrible.”
“I left him uninjured but covered in containment foam,” a problem crossed his mind, “that they’ll have no way to easily dissolve.”
“If anyone deserves to be glued to the floor its him I assure you.”
A disturbance in the road behind him distracted him from ways to synthetize the solution, a car was coming up fast. “Stark, I’ve got company.”
It was a smaller car, something that could easily outrun his own lumbering vehicle. His mass advantage would ordinarily be useful, except he had kept his escape entirely non-lethal thus far and car crashes at speed were usually the opposite.
“I see them; you’ve got a minute. Any tricks?”
A quick review of his arsenal was disappointing. He had one foam grenade left, a micro EMP, nutrient paste and taser rounds. Keeping most of his offensive equipment in his halberd was a decision he was going to have to revisit.
Foam was strong, but it wasn’t strong enough to stop a racing car, except by possibly overheating the engine or blinding the driver. The EMP would certainly do the job, but computers ran so much in modern cars. It would be better than sideswiping them, but not by much. A quick scan of the car didn’t show anything useful, and now the chasing car was uncomfortably close. The driver was an intent redhead and the passenger seemed to be assembling something, a weapon of some sort. Well that stepped things up a notch.
He slammed on the brakes, dropping from north of a hundred to fifty as the brakes protested. His pursuer matched his maneuver, but pulled up alongside. The passenger and he locked eyes, whatever weapon he’d been toying with was discarded for a pistol, and the passenger was helpfully rolling down his window to clear his shot.
His armor’s strength made things like that unnecessary. His elbow smashed the driver side window just before his last foam grenade rifled across the distance between cars. The agent was fast, his gun was moving instantly, but human reactions weren’t good enough to beat his throw. The grenade exploded, spilling rapidly expanding liquid across both of the agents as Armsmaster floored it. They couldn’t follow as their entire car filled with containment foam, the driver had the foresight to hit the brakes before the windshield was completely covered.
“They’ve been dealt with.” He had to shout to be heard over the wind noise, yet another reason to get a full face mask. PR had rejected it, but in an entirely different world he was beyond their reach.
“You really do go for the Robocop vibe. They’re alright?” Stark’s background noise was gone though, it sounded as if he’d reached their planned rendezvous and stopped.
“I only injured their pride. Now what?”
“Take the next exit, it’s time to get off the roads.” Armsmaster cut across the lanes and just barely avoided clipping the crash barrels. “And if you’ve got anyway to ditch the car such that whatever bugs in are wrecked, like a river or a fire or a- “
“I’ll handle it.” If there was one advantage to evading the duly authorized agents of the law it was that he was able to use whatever munitions he wanted, looks like he was getting to use his EMP afterall.