Final Preparations

That was underwhelming. Somewhere in my heart, I expected to feel power coursing through my veins or something, but I guess real life is often less than the expectation.

"So, what now?" I ask.

Cisca takes off her gloves and clasps her hands together. "We are now ready to begin the final preparations. Follow me, Kris," she says and continues deeper into the laboratory with me walking behind her.

Even though there are more equipment here than an entire research institution, I notice that every corner is squeaky clean. The tools are all neatly organized, and by their wear and condition, I can tell that Cisca uses almost all of them on a regular basis.

We stroll through the brown section, the gray section, and the pink section. I have not a single clue what fields of science those parts of the laboratory are for, but one of them contained a stack of boxes from within I can hear squeaks. On second thought, I don't feel like I want to know.

Finally, we have arrived in the dark blue section. The variety of machinery here is the largest. In the middle of the roughly one thousand square foot section is a weapon storage board. On it hangs guns one would have no idea how to operate without being told, but by just looking at them, anyone can tell they each possess enough potential to singlehandedly decimate armies.

"This is the final stage of preparation?" I ask Cisca, who is navigating around the storage and selecting different equipment.

She continues doing what she is doing and says, "Not for you. I need to set up the portal, you just need to get changed."

"Okay."

Cisca turns around and hands me a folded-up suit. I take it with my hands. The flexibility is similar to rubber, and yet, it feels metallic to the touch. I hold it up by the shoulders and let it unfold itself. It's a one-piece suit that covers from the neck to the shin.

The black leather-like material glimmers under the bright lights. There are large gray paddings located around where the vital organs would be. By touching it, I can say for sure it's sturdy enough to withstand bullets, but it doesn't feel heftier than the business suit on my body right now.

"What do I do with this?" I ask while examining the suit.

Cisca glances over at me and says, "Put it on. What else?"

"Here?"

"No, in the fitting rooms behind the lady at the counter- of course here, dummy."

"But-"

She ignores my attempt to get out of stripping myself in front of her and continues to mind her own business.

"I call it the Exosuit because of its resemblance to an insect's exoskeleton. It's mainly made of a carbon allotrope and a mixture of tungsten carbide alloy and titanium alloy," Cisca begins to explain half-mindlessly, as if mumbling to herself, "It can withstand temperature from absolute zero to the surface of the sun. It can counteract kinetic forces up to a BMG bullet and keep your bones safe from getting hit by a full-speed maglev train. I would be surprised if you manage to get hurt in it, so come on, get dressed.

So, in front of me is essentially a superhero suit. Cool. I step behind the gun board out of Cisca's view and begin taking off my clothes.

When I put my arm into the sleeve of the suit, I notice the Exosuit feels very comfortable. Even though there are metal plates covering my arm, there is not much difference between this overpowered armor and a collared shirt.

Cisca walks around the board before I can completely dress myself up. She glances at me briefly and giggles.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

"Nothing. It's just, you are more than good enough to be a model, and yet, you have stayed single into your mid-20s."

"Wha- It's not like I need anyone. Why are you bringing this up? Why are you even here? To peek on me?"

"Maybe, but also, I didn't give you the boots yet," Cisca says and hands me a pair of boots matching the rest of the Exosuit.

I finish zipping up the suit and take the boots from her hands.

"Also," Cisca says, "You will notice there is a belt around your waist. Each of those slots was custom-built for the tools you will need."

I look down and indeed, there are three oddly-shaped slots on each side of the belt.

"What are they for?" I ask as I sit down to put on the boots.

"I got them here for you," Cisca says and pulls over a cart of items, which she took off the weapon board just now.

"First of all," she hands me a thick bar I can hold easily in my hand, "This is a fairly simple multi-purpose tool. It can be used as an ax, pickax, knife, and a bunch more. It goes into the first slot on your left."

She makes it sound like something I can buy from a store, but the build quality of this tool is out of this world. I drop it into the corresponding slot on the belt, and it slides right it.

"Then," Cisca grabs another one, "This is a flare gun. It shoots flares that last as long as you want it to. There is a button on the side to remotely cancel the flare and drop it back down. It's reusable for a couple of times."

I grab it and put it into my belt.

"This here is a UAV drone. It's pretty fragile but has a long signal range. It will feed video and audio to you."

I drop the drone that is no bigger than my palm into its slot.

"Now, we are moving on to the weapons," Cisca says, "These will go on your right. This is a pulse pistol. It has the penetrating power of a supersonic rifle round, and it recharges by sunlight."

"Got it." I carefully take the pistol and holster it in my belt.

"This is a pistol grenade launcher. Pretty self-explanatory. It has six rounds." She hands me the revolver-looking weapon.

"And lastly," Cisca says and picks up a briefcase clad in reinforced steel. She puts her thumb on the fingerprint scanner at the handle.

BEEP. The locks unlatch themselves, and Cisca opens the case. In it is a device that looks like a metal tennis ball cradled in foam padding.

"This is a mini-thermonuclear bomb," Cisca says while carefully taking it out of its case and handing it to me.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't worry, I mitigated its radioactive fallout. It will just explode and go away. No mushroom cloud or anything."

"But why would I need it?"

"I don't know. Having weapons of mass destruction can never go wrong," she says with a smirk unmatching the gravity of her statement.

I squint at Cisca as I gently take the little doomsday device off her hand.

"Alright. That is all the tools to go into your tool belt. Now you just need the comms device. Follow me one last time," Cisca says and heads for the blue section of the laboratory.