28 In Nuclear Fire (Worm SI)

Synopsis: A male self insert into Worm as a tinker. He has access to entirety of fiction as his tinkering ability, however the specialty changes.

Author: Poliamida

Site: Spacebattle

Chapter 1

From a very young age, I developed the capacity to ignore my problems, pushing them to the back of my mind where they can't bother me until they crashed directly against my face. 'It will somehow get sorted out' isn't just my motto but also my way of life.

Doing my homework? Studying for the exams? Sorting those very important papers for my boss? I can do that the day before the deadline no problem. As long as I fulfill my task and don't bring attention to myself, I can keep doing the things I actually like.

I just want a peaceful life, you know? Surrounded by me, myself, and my hobbies.

That was why unexpecteds were the bane of my existence.

Did anyone else ever have this one nightmare of crossing a door and suddenly finding oneself in a different world? I also had this phobia of entering my house and finding out that my family had moved years ago. Or being told 'but you are dead!'

Things like that.

Things that would drastically change my well-oiled routine.

Well, like most things in life, it eventually happened one week ago, and just now I'm feeling coherent enough to reassess my situation.

Waking up in an unfamiliar bed was a bad start which only got worse from there on as I discovered that I was in an unfamiliar body too. The icing on the cake was then discovering that I was on my way to a place named Brockton Fucking Bay.

And the even worst part is that remaining under the radar won't be an option.

Because I'm in Worm. The world that will be destroyed in just a couple years.

I'm a Tinker. Someone who everyone will want to get their hands on.

And if this bloody city doesn't turn into a smoking crater at the end of the month, I will consider it a victory.

My previous life here is a huge confusing mess of broken memories, but as I have been told by my social worker I'm an eleven-year-old Canadian whose entire direct family recently died in a car crash.

Good thing that they assumed that my lapses of memory are because of my grief and trauma.

Grief and trauma that I don't need to fake because, hey, I'm in Worm! Everything is shit, it will only get worse, and finding a rope to hang myself very much under consideration.

But that's for later because here I find myself in front of the tiny wooden house, I no longer have time for procrastination or panic, and I need to see how I sort this out.

The door opens and I see the family that will be looking after me from now on. The man was a cousin of my local late-mother and was married to a woman who also died in a car accident.

Standing some paces behind him is his daughter, a girl of fifteen years old who is very emphatically avoiding looking at me.

Her name is Taylor Hebert, and everything that can go wrong will go wrong around her.

I sit silently through most of the conversation between Danny and the social worker, my fidgeting only interrupted when I reply to questions aimed directly at me.

I miss my phone so much! Nothing like a phone to push through boring reunions and social gatherings. I think that what I missed the most is all the progress I had on my Gacha games. That one stings. So many months lost there.

Immediately my mind starts rushing with ideas for a complex communication device, small enough to carry in my pocket yet powerful enough to move any contemporary program.

I steady my hands and with them my desire to dismantle the cheap TV to build it. Or, better said, to build the tools that I'll need to eventually build it.

This is getting stressful. Do the Heberts have a PC?

"Peter?"

They should. Taylor is good with computers after all, and even an old PC should have enough material for-

"Peter!"

That puts an end to my train of thought as I remember that 'Peter' is my name in this world.

"Yes?"

Danny exchanges a look with the social worker that looks almost apologetic. "I asked you how you felt about living with us."

"Ah." I shrug. "I feel fine."

And that's pretty much the end of the conversation. After some final papers are signed, the social worker leaves and Danny leads me to the attic.

"I'm sorry we don't have a better room for you."

"It's okay." My 'bed' is a mattress on the floor with a lamp next to it. Nothing fancy, but my grandpas in my previous life tended to visit us often, so I have gotten accustomed to sleeping on the floor. A bit of a killer for the back but I can deal with it.

"Well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me or Taylor."

"If I need anything, I will."

I'm left alone after that to unpack and think. From this life, the only things I have left are a suitcase with a random assortment of clothes, some items for personal hygiene, and little else. I don't even have a watch for fuck's sake! What am I supposed to do now?

Well, I can start with a bomb. A very big bomb to blow this place up to smithereens! Heavens know it deserves it.

My first thought is a nuclear device, relatively simple to build. No, no, I need something bigger if I want to destroy the entire planet. A cannon. A prismatic core that will channel the energies of the void into a continuous beam. I just needed to aim it down and it'll reach the core with little effort.

But the material requirements are… insane. I'll need to raid several nuclear plants just to get enough materials for half of the entire project.

I let myself fall into the bed and look around. There is so much wood around me. Wood and cardboard boxes. A spark here and the entire house will burn down. Why do the Americans build such flimsy houses? Stone and bricks are far better.

I sigh.

I haven't really been thinking a lot about what I should be doing, allowing myself to go with the flow until I found a good place to rest.

Taylor is a magnet for problems and bad decisions. I could have refused to come to the Heberts and go instead to a foster house. But what is the point? The entire world can die at any moment now! I have no place to flee to, so why not staying in the Bay? If I die it at least will be fast.

Unless Bakuda gets me.

Or Jack Slash.

Or any of the other bad things around the world that won't allow me to die.

Can I build a suicidal vest for emergencies? The answer I get from my power is… inconclusive. I have been trying to figure out how my power exactly works but it isn't clear to me. Tinkers are supposed to be extremely flexible, but I only have specific 'blueprints' that I can build and nothing outside those. I can mix and match them but only to a certain degree. Tinkers shouldn't have such a 'clear' vision of what they can do like I have, as experimentation is the name of the game for them. It's weird, as is the fact that the designs in my head look somehow familiar. I just can't put my finger on why.

Oh, well. As rolling down and dying isn't Plan A (it's B) I could at least try to have some fun while at it. If I somehow manage to right some of the many wrongs that offend me in the process, all the better.

One by one I open the boxes in search of things I can use. I do find an electric heater, but the rest are useless winter clothes.

I need something to help me collect resources. Something like… a drone, yes. A modular drone that can not only dig, mine, and dismantle materials, but can also modify itself on the fly to adapt to different environments. Several can also combine into different configurations, from bigger combat forms to mining platforms and even factories!

Yes! That's exactly what I need!

The only problem is that I can't build it. It isn't just expensive, but the precision tools I need I won't be found in any house. I'll need to build those too.

Shit, there was always one thing or the other.

Can I join the Wards? Or any similar faction?

Nah.

The drone alone would have people screaming 'kill order' over self-replicating technology. I can't say I'd blame them as the drone can recycle organic matter, like humans, but that's something I see as a feature. And then there's also the many, many improvements I can do to my body. I don't know what policy the PRT has on self-modification but I doubt they'd allow an eleven-years-old to practice surgery on himself.

Criminal groups would be more flexible with that but then there's the disgust I feel towards them.

Taylor calling me to eat is a welcoming distraction from my problems. She places a plate in front of me with her and Danny seated across the table. What follows are several minutes of silence only broken by the cutlery. Is this how the Hebert family behaves at the table?

I like it. Silent, quick, and to the point. I can get accustomed to it.

Once Danny is done, he announces that he's leaving for work. It's Saturday but he switched his shift so he can be here to receive me. Oh, well, that only means that Taylor and I will have the house for ourselves for the rest of the day.

We finish our food mostly at the same time, and by instinct I move to clear the table.

"What are you doing?" Taylor asks me with a raised eyebrow.

"Clearing the table. Or do you prefer to clear it and me to wash the dishes?"

She looks surprised by my answer. "No, I… I can wash them. Thanks."

With that done I move back to the attic.

I need something cheaper than the drone to help me start. Something like… a helmet. Yes, a visor that detects electric currents and electronic equipment. It will also have heat vision, x-ray vision, and even sonar. Yes, yes. I like it, and it won't be very expensive! Once again I think about the TV in the living room.

But I better not, it going missing will be far too noticeable.

My next destination will then be the basement! I haven't found anything useful in the attic, beyond the heater, but maybe down there I'll be luckier.

I walk down to the second floor and hear Taylor in her room. Maybe doing homework or practicing with her bug control powers.

I don't know, and frankly don't care.

Continuing down, I soon find the door to the basement.

The place is a mess. There are boxes upon boxes covered in dirt and grime. Even the steps of the stairs are covered in dust as I can see the footprints left by my shoes.

I should have brought gloves. And maybe a mask. But it's too late for that now so I force myself to endure and open the first box, kept shut by spiderwebs instead of duct tape.

Okay, this… this is far more interesting. In the first box, there is a mixer, and in the second one there's a dusty sewing machine. A hairdryer, a hair straightener, a radio, an alarm clock. A freaking old laptop! This is a treasure trove of trash that I can turn into something useful!

And in this box…

Oh, yes, now we are talking. There are jewels in here. Lots and lots of gold and silver that I can turn into very efficient conductors. There are diamonds and other jewels too. My mind rushes with possibilities!

I move some more boxes out of the way and… I almost lose my lunch. I find spiders. Dozens, hundreds of them with their long and hairy legs. They are almost dancing in a perfectly synchronized routine as they sew something. A suit.

Ah, yes. It was here where Taylor was making her hero (later villain) suit. I had totally forgotten about that!

'Taylor controls them' I repeat over and over in my head like a mantra, slowly making my way back. A way that I find obstructed by the sound of someone walking down to the basement too.

It's Taylor, and when she sees me her expression turns into a scowl of fury.

It probably has something to do with the box of jewels I have in my hands, which probably belonged to her deceased mother.

The fact that I found her hero suit doesn't help my position either.

Okay, she's mad at me, what should I say in a situation like this? "I didn't see anything if you didn't see anything."

That's evidently the wrong thing to say as Taylor twitches and suddenly all the bugs are on me. I don't scream but that's mostly because I suddenly find the air in my lungs lacking.

First day in Brockton Bay and someone is already trying to kill me. Joy.

"What are you doing here?!" She demands. "And don't try to lie! I will know!"

She will know? I'm fairly sure that she doesn't have any power that can let her... Ah! That must be a lie to scare me.

This is annoying. Also a waste of my time.

Okay, breathe, breathe. Calming breaths.

This isn't the first time I'm forced into a bad position having to explain myself. At least Taylor isn't one of the many people I wouldn't mind seeing gutted. Even if she's close to that.

Now, my solution for situations like these is to just stare at them blankly until they get tired of being angry at me and go out to do more productive stuff. That has never failed me!

"I needed parts to build things." I explain in an even tone.

Taylor blinks a few times trying to comprehend what I just said. "To do what?"

I hate so much repeating myself. Even more so when I'm covered in bugs. "To build things. I am a Tinker."

A twitch starts to develop in her eye. "That was why you were stealing our things!?"

"Yes. It's a basement. This is where people toss stuff they don't care about anymore."

"It's not your basement!" Her voice almost breaks there at the end. "These are still our things!"

"Fine, sorry." I reply with a shrug. "Want me to build you something as compensation?" I can't wait to be done with this so we can all get back to doing more useful stuff.

"What?!"

Again with this? "I asked you if you want me to build you something with all this. As a token of good faith, you see."

"What is wrong with you!?" Taylor asks me close to what looks to be hysteria. "People shouldn't act like that when covered in bugs!"

I roll my eyes. "Do you have complete control over your bugs?"

There is a pause while Taylor studies me carefully. "Yes?"

"Then I have nothing to fear as I don't think you want to go over the hassle of hiding a body." Horror flashes over her face. "At least I think you don't. I don't know you well enough yet."

Several seconds pass during which the only sound I hear is that of the crawling insects. Then one by one Taylor's spiders retreat from my body, and without saying another word she turns back and leaves the basement.

I pick the stuff I have found up and head to my room. Maybe this time I can tinker in peace.

Chapter 2:

As it turns out, no, I can't tinker in peace because Taylor has decided that she needs to learn more about tinkers. And that's why we soon find ourselves in the bus on the way to the library, me with her because Taylor has unilaterally decided that I need supervision. I feel offended at that, I'm still very much an adult inside this childish body who's responsible enough to handle power tools!

I can even give her classes on how to use them! Literally. I have given several of those in the past.

The trip is amazingly boring. What am I supposed to do? Taylor's as uninterested in talking as I am. At least I have the chance to experience what Brockton Bay actually looks like by seeing it pass out of the window.

Not as bad as I feared if I'm honest. There aren't groups of men carrying weapons in the open and there aren't that many bums sleeping on the streets. The amount of graffiti paintings is a surprise, and some people might have raised their eyebrows at the amount of trash bags pilling in some corners, but all in all, it isn't that different from my previous city.

"We're here." Taylor's words shake me out of my boredom.

The library is a massive hulk of concrete, the monotony of the grey stone broken only by the many graffitis scattered around it.

Once inside she aims at a chair close to the reception desk. "Wait here." And then leaves without waiting for my reply. She greets the librarian by his name -a name that I promptly forget- before leading me to one of the private rooms with a single computer inside. She takes a seat at the keyboard and starts typing.

With nothing else to do, I look around the room. It's big enough to hold some six people comfortably and the walls are covered in bookcases filled with heavy tomes about mechanical engineering. I pick one at random and sit at the table with it. Not something as easy to do as I was expecting considering that the books are deceivingly heavy for my small frame.

The impact of the book against the table makes Taylor flinch. "Are you… are you reading that?"

"Yes." Less reading and more skimming but the idea's the same. Some of these topics are about things I still remember. I wonder if I can make a machine that automatically downloads books into my brain. I always wanted to have one of those to save time.

"Those are university books."

"Entry-level from what I'm reading. What about it?"

My question is left unanswered.

"Okay." Taylor announces soon enough, pressing her palms over the keyboard. "Can we talk for a moment?"

"Are you sure you want to talk about those things here?" I ask without raising my eyes from the book. We are in a public location after all.

"With my bugs, I can know if someone gets close."

"Fair enough." I look around. "There doesn't seem to be any listening devices. My power should have allowed me to find them." At least I hope so.

"Aren't you exaggerating?"

In a city that has Coil in it? "I don't think so." The deal he later formed with Chariot wasn't bad all things considered, but the guy is firmly on my 'free for impalement' list.

But if I want to go for cruel and unusual I can create a larva that will eat him from the inside-out. And I can make it work on a timer, ensuring that his timelines don't protect him from it!

Wait, does my power have biological constructions too? Something to think about later.

"Well, just…" She struggles with her words. "Are you feeling alright? Do you have any strange desires?"

"Are you trying to give me 'the talk'?"

If she had been drinking anything, she'd have spitted it all out. "No! And aren't you too young to know about it?"

"I'm too young for a lot of stuff." I say with a shrug. "And to answer your question, I'm barely holding myself back from dismantling that PC." But I don't know if that's a 'tinker fugue' or just me feeling that I can finally build something awesome with my hands. After years of dreaming of building robots and other machines, I finally have the power to do so and just want to exercise it!

She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath. "Yeah, that's what I feared." She gestures at the screen. "According to this, tinkers that don't build something for a long time get more and more anxious until they start taking apart their houses."

"Not much different from a drug, is it?"

"You…" I'm sure I see the veins of her forehead about to pop. "Yeah. It isn't." She presses her palms together. "Have you considered the Wards?"

"Have you?"

"This isn't about me!"

Well… I don't have much interest in arguing against that. "I don't care about them. I don't care about the child soldiers that they turn into action figures to sell to the masses only for their brand to get devalued once they die against a villain or an endbringer." I can almost hear the hinges of Taylor's mouth shrieking as her jaw hangs freely from her mouth. "I also don't like people. I don't want to be forced to talk to people, to be forced into the public, and smile while I answer their question or sign their posters." I don't remember at what point I started cracking my fingers, something I like to do whenever I feel angry. I tend to do that a lot.

"Okay, I… I at least can understand that." That puts an end to our conversation and soon we are on our way back to her house.

The floor of my room is covered by the remains of the things I dismantled, next to Danny's discarded tools that I borrowed.

After finding out about Tinker Fugues, Taylor agreed to let me build one item fearing that I'll go insane if I don't. Or insane-er, if the way she keeps glancing at me is anything to go by. I use almost all of what I found in the basement for this, with the exception of Taylor's mother's jewels that I'm saving for a special occasion.

My work done, I spend a moment looking at my creation: a wristband with a green jewel encrusted into it.

This is… this is the first thing I have built with these powers. How many times have I daydreamed of doing something like this? There is something relaxing about putting all the pieces of the puzzle together and seeing it work like the well-oiled machine that it is. It is precise. It is controlled. It is something that I can very much enjoy.

"What did you build?" Taylor asks from the side, wearily looking at the wrist-mounted contraption.

To answer her question, I activate the device causing the blade to materialize.

Taylor's eyes light up. "Is… is that a Lightsaber?"

"Not exactly." I tried to build one at first but my power refused to build the hand-held version. I guess that this way I have my hands free for other stuff, even if the lack of a crossguard makes me uncomfortable. "But it should be just as powerful, being able to cut through nearly anything." I turn the blade off, remove it from my arm, and strap it to Taylor's.

She eyes it wearily, but after explaining how to use it she presses the activation button. The blade makes her flinch as it is longer than when I used it, able to adapt to her longer limbs.

She looks enraptured at the blue color of the plasma, and after a moment she finally dares to make some test swings far away from me.

"Do be careful as it's extremely sharp. So I suggest that you only use it on brutes and regenerators."

She immediately turns it off. "What do you mean when I use it?"

"I have no use for it. I have no intention to go out and fight people personally." Doing so is plain stupid considering that I have in my head designs for multiple autonomous robots. Why risk myself when I can send others to do my work?

Her eyebrows knit into a scowl. "Are you trying to bribe me with Tinkertech?"

"No." And that's all I tell her as I go back to tinkering. Luckily I still have just enough to build the visor I want. "How good are you at close quarters combat?" I ask her trying to make some small talk. It is the polite thing to do.

"What?"

"Combat. How good are you? You need to be good to defeat your enemies."

"Why do you want to know?"

"What is the suit in the basement for if not for punching people?"

A groan escapes her lips. "I honestly don't know." And then we are back at the silence. At least it doesn't last as long this time around. "What are you building?"

In my hands, I have the frame of what look like very advanced glasses. "This visor will allow me to switch between several tactical views. It will have infrared, sonar, and several others that I hope will help me find materials easier."

"That is... good."

Okay, that sounds like she's sad. Or mad. I can't tell.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

She throws her hands up in the air muffling what might be a scream. "It doesn't matter, okay? You… you keep doing whatever you want to do." She removes the Psi Blade, places it over a box, and with heavy steps she marches out of the attic.

I look down at my half-finished visor and for a moment I consider just continuing my working on it, but the sound of Taylor slamming her door changes plans. I walk to her room and knock at her door.

"What?!" Comes the voice from the other side.

Charming.

"I want to talk to you."

"I don't want to! Go away."

What to do? Maybe if I just ignore her the problem will go away.

While thinking about it I press myself against Taylor's door… and promptly fall into her room. As I scramble to my feet I realize that her door not only isn't locked, it doesn't have a lock, with the space it should occupy in the frame of her door empty.

Do these people have no privacy?

Taylor's room is surprisingly girlish. And old. Not because of the decorations but the stuff she has inside. There are some plushies, dolls, and a couple of other things, but they all look so old. And dirty. The same with the walls that look as if no one has bothered to give them a second helping of paint in years.

Pressed against a corner, underneath a window, is Taylor's bed. And in said bed is Taylor, looking at me as if she's thinking about committing first-degree murder.

"Sup." I greet her again with a raised palm.

She throws her head back releasing a groan. "What are you doing here?"

"In your room or in general?"

"In my house! Here! Everywhere!"

What was my alibi again? Oh, yes. "My parents died in a car crash and Danny Hebert was my closest relative." I immediately fall to the ground under the force of the cushion that Taylor just threw at my face. "Ouch!"

"What is wrong with you?"

"Do you want the list in alphabetical order?"

And then she groans again. "Oh, my God! You act like a robot!"

"Yeah, I have been told that in the past. Also sociopathic." Good memories of my past life, those ones. "But I'm not! At least that's what the tests I took online told me."

Oh, yes, there's Taylor's eye-twitching again. Her cushion already expended, she picks her pillow up and hurls it to me. But this time I'm ready and manage to catch it mid-flight! Only to once again fall to the ground as this childish body is unable to resist even that little force.

I'll have to improve it one of these days. Maybe starting with a new spine.

Once I pick myself up, I see that Taylor has crouched into a little ball and is now staring at the wall, showing me her back.

I'm sure now that she's mad! Or sad. One of the two.

What to do?

"Do you want a hug?"

"No! Why would I want one?"

"Because hugs are nice." Now, what would an 11 years old say? "That's what the pink dinosaur on the TV usually says." Barney is still a thing, right?

She slowly raises up and turns to look at me, making me feel like a bacteria underneath the microscope. I stay my ground, staring back, as she reaches at me and pokes me in the shoulder.

"Ouch." I say despite not really hurting me. It just feels like the appropriate thing to say under the circumstances.

Then she pokes me again.

"Ouch."

And again.

"Ouch." Ok, this is getting tedious and repetitive. "For how long are you going to keep doing that?"

She pulls back, still looking at me with a creeped-out expression in her face. "Have you always been like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like, you know, have you always behaved like this?"

That's an excellent question! I don't know what the child I'm inhabiting was like before all this started. I don't know if he even existed before my arrival. "I don't know. How can I know?"

"Did your parents ever take you to see any… therapist or psychiatrist?"

Not in my previous life at least. "I don't know?"

"How can you- Sorry, sorry. It's not right for me to talk about your family under the circumstances." Is she... sobbing? Oh, God, did I cause her to have a relapse over her mother's death? "I remember when mom died. The first weeks… the first months were hard."

Yeah, they always are when a close relative passes away. "The place they used to occupy is now empty. Sometimes you think that maybe this time when you look they will be there but they aren't. They never are. But you learn to keep moving, and as you keep moving you keep surviving."

"How can you be so cold?"

"Well, the fact that I don't remember their faces help." Her back straightens up and her eyes widen as dishes. "What?"

"You… you what?"

"I don't remember their faces." I repeat. "I know that the social worker told me their names but I forgot them too." Oh, names, I suck at them. "I remember going to school," At least the school of my previous life. "Reading books and watching TV. But when it comes to my parents," These parents, not my real ones. "There's not-" And suddenly I find myself unable to speak as Taylor is now hugging me.

Yes, hugs are indeed nice.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Eh, it's okay." Not like the death of people I never knew or cared about can affect me.

"No, it's not! Do you… do you really not remember anything about them?"

I shake my head. "My memories from before the crash are fuzzy." Non-existent would be more accurate. "The clear ones start after that."

"Jesus Christ." And there she is hugging me again. And then she chuckles. It is a sad chuckle that sounds more like a sob. "I'm pathetic. And to think I was jealous of you."

Now that makes me cock my head in confusion. "Jealous of me? Why?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Is it about your power?" I do remember she considered her bug control week.

Slowly she breaks the hug and releases a sigh. "Yes, it is." She opens her palm to let a fly land on it. "You built a lightsaber from a bunch of trash in an afternoon." The fly lifts off and makes several maneuvers in the air before returning to her palm. "And I can do this."

"And so you feel inadequate."

She snores. "I guess I do." Progress! She sounds better already.

Now, I know that with months of practice she'll be able to do some incredible stuff, like seeing and listening through her bugs or even imitating human speech with them. But at this stage she's very early in her path to mastering her power.

Time to give her a gentle push in the right direction.

"How many insects can you control at the same time and what's your radius of control?"

"Why would you want to help me?"

"Why wouldn't I? You have been nice to me so I don't want you to die." At least not for the time being.

"The first thing I did was covering you with spiders!"

"Yes. That should clue in on how my interactions with other humans usually go." And isn't that just so, so sad? "Now, about my question?"

Her shoulders drop in defeat. "I control all insects on the block."

"Do you know where all of them are?"

"Every moment. Yes."

I stand up and pace back and forth around her room pretending to think. "Wait here." I leave and in a moment I'm back with a broom. "Place a fly there." I aim at a spot on the wall.

"Why?"

"I have an idea. Come on! Let's experiment!" I don't have to pretend to be excited.

"Fine." The fly sets in location. "Now what?"

I give her the broom. "Hold this up as if it was a rifle and place two other flies on it. One at each end."

Her eyes narrow. She looks at me, then at the broom, then at me again and finally at the wall. She picks the broom up and snaps it into position as if the handle was the barrel of a gun. The 3 flies are perfectly aligned with each other. She lowers it and then aims again. Another alignment. She moves a couple of steps to the left, spins, and aims again. Yet another perfect shot.

Then she does something that I wasn't expecting. She walks to the window and aims the broom outside. I can see her moving it as if she was tracking a target.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"There's a tick on the back of a cat across the street."

Now there's that legendary Taylor intelligence I heard so much about! A pity that she uses it for combat and not for social interactions.

And with me at her side, that means that we are doomed if we face anything that we can't just pummel into a bloody pulp.

Is there anything I can create to help us there? There is a pheromone that can mind-control people, not really what I'm looking for, and a band that can connect the users to a hive-mind. Now that's something that I want! But it is on the expensive side of things.

Done with her own tests, Taylor takes a step back and puts the broom aside, still glimpsing at it as if now realizing what she just did. "That was interesting. But I don't want to shoot people!"

I swear, at this point she's just being fastidious for the sake of it.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to kill people!"

I released a sigh. That's a mentality that we'll need to work on. "It's okay, I can build you a rifle that incapacitates the targets without killing them."

"Can you really do that?"

I go through the blueprints I have in my head. I have plasma rifles, gauss rifles, bio-acid, and others that are even worse. No non-lethal options in there. Oh, well, I'm sure everything will get sorted out at the end. "Of course I can. But I'll need a lot of resources that I currently don't have." Maybe if I tell her that she'll stop complaining and start helping me.

Taylor purses her lips as if rolling a reply over her tongue. "Fine. If we-"

And that's when we hear the sound of a car stopping soon followed by the main door opening.

"Taylor, Peter! I'm back!"

It seems that most of our afternoon was consumed by the trip to the library and then by my tinkering.

We'll have to continue our talk another day.

Dinner is also a mostly silent affair but Danny does comment on how happy he is to see Taylor and I getting along.

No idea how he can tell or what us 'getting along' even looks like.

After helping Taylor with the dishes I go to my room and use the final hours of the day finishing my visor.

Good thing that tomorrow is Sunday.