Weak

Looking for the nine took more time than I would have thought. Even with Intuitive Empathy, I was having trouble, likely because they were mobile.

People in the wealthier districts had cellphones based on designs by Dragon; they were connected to the internet by satellite and they didn't use silicon.

Most people didn't, which meant that I could work in the poorer areas without people constantly taking pictures of me as I flew by in the sky.

If I'd had some kind of invisibility power this would have been easier. As it was, more people were looking into the sky because commerce had ground to a halt.

It had been bad enough after the bombings, but those at least had caused pockets of isolated damage leaving the rest of the city relatively unharmed.

However, Shatterbird's attack had been devastating. Other than a few tinker built systems, computers and their monitors had been destroyed.

What that would do to people's bank accounts I had no idea. Presumably people who had accounts in national banks would have their information in cities outside Brockton Bay, and they'd be fine once they reached a city where they could make a withdrawal.

Did local banks keep information in the cloud, or did the destruction of their computers mean that account holders would lose all their money? I didn't know.

There was no way to withdraw money locally in any case; with computers down and ATMs destroyed there wasn't any way for people to use credit or debit cards.

Most of the cars were grounded; their computer systems had been destroyed along with their windows. The police universally were grounded, and the Brockton Bay police department did not have horses.

There were a few police officers on bicycles, but the end result was that much of the city was essentially a lawless zone where people were left to fend for themselves.

The social contract was breaking down.

The poorer people had old Junker cars that didn't have computers; some of those actually worked. As I passed overhead, I saw that some enterprising people had turned their cars into a sort of pirate taxi service.

They were mostly working in the wealthier areas. That was where people had the most money, even though it was often in the form of cards instead of cash.

They were gouging other people, if the emotions I was feeling from the customers were correct, and I was pretty sure that it was cash only, or maybe barter.

The electrical system had been disrupted by the bombings and fear of the nine had stopped the reconstruction efforts. That meant that refrigerators in the poorer parts of town hadn't worked for days.

There was looting everywhere; as I flew over one supermarket, I could see people running out carrying as much food as they could, running it to their cars.

Some of them were likely going to resell it to their neighbors, for as long as their neighbors' cash held out.

I couldn't even blame them; with no access to their money, they wouldn't have any way to legitimately buy food, and people who couldn't eat got desperate.

FEMA wouldn't come to the city as long as the Slaughterhouse was still here; it wasn't safe when plagues were a possibility. The National Guard wouldn't show up for the same reason.

There were ways I could help people, even with my abilities that were more optimized for combat than constructive activities.

But until the Slaughterhouse was gone, the government wasn't going to help at all.

I saw an old man dragging an even older man down the street. He looked like he was on his last legs.

I felt a moment of indecision; even a short break in the search might mean missing one of the Nine.

The intelligent thing would be to leave him be, but something in me couldn't do it. I needed to be able to look my father in the eye when he was resurrected. The mass murders would be hard to justify; it would be nice if I had something to tell him other than murder and death.

Besides, the emotions I felt from the man were those of anguish and hopelessness. I'd had those feelings before, and I didn't really want anyone other than my enemies to ever feel that again.

I dropped down next to the man.

"Help!" he was trying to shout, but his throat sounded like it was dry. He was covered in cuts and there was blood on his clothes, but the man he was holding looked worse.

I put my hand on the man's shoulder.

He had superficial abrasions and was slightly dehydrated. There was evidence of long-term arthritis, especially in his left knee and in his hips. He had to be in terrible pain from the inflammation I saw. He also had poor vision. He must not have been wearing his glasses during the attack.

I healed it all with a touch.

He stiffened, then turned toward me.

"I'm a healer," I said.

He was staring at me, and while he did, I touched the older man he was holding. The man had a strong resemblance to him, and looked to be in his eighties while the man carrying him was in his sixties.

He was likely his father, and it looked like he had the eye injuries that had been all too common during the attack. Some people had died when shards of glass had penetrated into their brain. The death toll likely would not be known for a long time.

His father showed evidence of Alzheimer's. It looked like it was fairly advanced too. The brain damage had been complicated by a stroke several years ago that had caused partial paralysis. He had breathing problems from Silicosis; he'd probably been some kind of industrial worker in his younger years. Maybe he'd done sandblasting on the docks?

He had the same kind of arthritis, but it was even more advanced. His eyes were permanently damaged, and he had diabetes and kidney damage.

The man was a mess, but my power didn't care. It healed him instantly.

It was possible that he might not ever regain some of his memories, at least in the parts of his brain that had been damaged the most. However, many of the memories that had been missing still existed, they had just lost their interconnections. Those memories he'd get back in full.

"Help my father?" he said.

"I already did," I said.

His father was already standing up, breathing easily.

"Abe?" he asked. "When did you get so old? You look like hell."

Abe stared at his father in astonishment.

"He hasn't been able to speak for five years," he said, "not since the stroke."

"He may not get all of his memories back," I said. "That's the best I can do."

He stared at me.

"Who are you?" he asked.

I tensed. The last thing I needed was for more people to tell me off for my 'murderous' ways.

"They call me Harvest." I said.

"The girl who killed all the Nazis?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, tensing.

"Thank you," he said. "My family is Jewish and I had three family members killed by those…people over the last ten years."

"And you still live here?" I asked incredulously.

"This is our town," he said. "Dad wouldn't leave. My father helped build this city, and the graves of my grandparents are here. We aren't trespassing- we were here first. Besides, we moved to a safer part of town."

We were in ABB territory.

"Living under Lung is safer than living in the Empire?"

"ABB doesn't care who you are," he said, shrugging. "You pay protection, they'll eave you alone…as long as you don't have any girls in the family."

He grimaced.

His father was looking around.

"The whole city went to shit!" he said. "Is this what your generation did to the city?"

"I'm retired, Dad," Abe said.

"Don't look at me," I said. "I'm fifteen."

"Well tell your Dad to get off his ass and fix all this crap," the older man said.

"I'd love to," I said. "But he's dead right now."

I froze as I felt an intense urge to gain new power come within my range at a high rate of speed.

Crawler.

Of all of them, Crawler would have been the one who wouldn't be able to resist coming after me. All I'd had to do was stay in one place, and he'd be coming after me.

The only thing that surprised me was that no one else…. Wait…Mannequin was with him.

I could use some tinker skills.

Before either of the older men could speak, I inventoried them and dropped them off in front of the PRT.

"These guys probably need a ride," I said.

I teleported back, and the two of them probably didn't even notice that I was gone.

I blinked on top of Crawler and inventoried him. Mannequin tried to avoid my touch, but he was nowhere near as quick as I was.

I felt needles piercing my skin, and I saw a CONDITION: POISONED.

The poison seemed to reduce my strength, dexterity and constitution by ten points.

NEW POWER CREATED!

POISON RESISTANCE 10% ALL EFFECTS OF NEW POISONS ARE REDUCED BY 10%. IMMUNITY TO PREVIOUSLY ENCOUNTERED POISONS.

Apparently whatever Armsmaster had used hadn't even rated an increase in poison resistance. Gamer's Body probably included a certain amount of poison resistance on its own.

This must be a nasty poison given the way that Mannequin turned his head quizzically.

I grabbed for him, and his limbs were on chains which reached out and wrapped around me.

Stupid.

I inventoried him, and then I said, "Plane shift."

Paradis Island didn't look much different than it had before. It looked like they'd made great progress in repairing the wall, even though it hadn't ben all that long.

The prospect of being eaten live had probably motivated the workers greatly.

No one had noticed me, and I teleported a couple of thousand feet into the air, hoping to see any large concentrations of giants.

Hopefully the giants would make an entertaining addition to our battle, and with luck, we'd kill a few of them while fighting. I'd wanted to get the two of them out of Brockton Bay because I figured that Crawler at least would try to destroy as many buildings as he could while we fought, and the last thing the Bay needed was any more destruction.

Besides, Abe probably didn't have the strength to carry his father very far, and I'd hate to further destroy his house.

Finding a good spot with a few hundred giants thirty miles away from the city, I dropped Mannequin and Crawler.

"What the hell?" I heard Crawler mutter.

The giants had taken notice of us, and they were already making their way in our direction.

"You want to get stronger," I said. "And I want to get stronger. I'm happy to fight you, but not in my hometown."

"Where the hell are we?" Crawler asked, "And what the hell are those things?"

"Giant cannibals," I said. "If one of us loses, they'll eat us, and then they'll throw the body up so they can eat some more."

POISONED CONDITION IS NO LONGER IN EFFECT.

"Why don't you play with them while I kill Mannequin," I said. "Wouldn't want you to get bored."

Before either of them could respond, I lunged toward Mannequin. I inventoried him, and then I teleported into the air. I could see that the giants were swarming Crawler and he was happily spitting acid at them.

It seemed unlikely that any of them could actually affect Crawler. He'd fought members of the Triumvirate in the past, although not often.

Siberian killing Hero and almost killing Alexandria had meant that official policy was for the Triumvirate to avoid the Slaughterhouse Nine.

Restoring Mannequin at 10,000 feet, I was surprised to see small jets appear at his hips.

He could fly, even if not quickly.

"I'm going to use your tinkering skills to improve the world," I said. "To do what you couldn't. I might even take mankind to the stars, away from the Endbringers and all the problems the villains created."

He lunged toward me, stabbing me again.

To even be able to penetrate my skin at this point he must have been using special needles.

I felt nothing; apparently, he was trying the same poison as before.

I grinned at him.

"Jack died like a little bitch. I used his body as a puppet in front of Armsmaster, who is a better tinker than you'll ever be, even if he is an asshole."

I felt a burning sensation coming through the needles. Apparently, he could change loadouts on the fly.

-20 HP!

+10% POISON RESISTANCE

-20 HP

+10% POISON RESISTANCE

-20 HP

+10% POISON RESISTANCE.

He was switching poisons as quickly as he could. I didn't have a bloodstream, and so the poisons had to be attacking my tissues directly.

I stood there and allowed him to experiment. Sometimes the poisons didn't work at all, and I ignored them as I regenerated.

+1 HP REGENERATION!

YOU NOW REGENERATE 25 HP PER 4 SECONDS!

While he was pumping poisons into my body, he was trying to hit me with buzzsaws and drills from weapons springing from his limbs and from his sides.

"Far Strike," I said.

One of his limbs fell off; I'd focused on the joint, as I doubted that I'd be able to do a lot of damage to his main body, which seemed to be heavily armored.

Hmm.

Might as well practice my new power.

I summoned all four of my eyes. I was able to use far strike through them, and as I concentrated on my new skill, I felt the eyes changing.

Where there had been floating eyes, there was now four gleaming rifles. They looked futuristic, like something I would have seen on a science fiction show somewhere, or like something Kid win would have built.

"You can't do anything to me," I said. "But I can do whatever I like to you."

One of the rifles spat, and his right arm cracked and fell off. Immediately afterwards, a second rifle spat, and his second arm fell.

His legs followed, and shortly afterwards the second set of arms he'd equipped himself with. I inventoried each item; the Protectorate wasn't going to get away with accusing me of van murder again.

"I'm going to do all the things you never did," I said leaning close. He was trying to batter me with his body. He knew he wasn't fast enough to escape me, not with teleportation.

He began to shake, and my bomb tinker skill told me that it was likely that he was trying to self-destruct.

My eyes disappeared, and a gleaming, clawed gauntlet appeared on my hand. I shoved my gauntleted hand through his chest, and my hand encountered flesh.

I pulled his brain out of his chest, and a moment later his body began to fall.

His body hit the ground twenty feet from Crawler, and a moment later the entire world lit up, destroying a section of the forest, and completely disintegrating the giants surrounding the monster.

MAD BOMBER SKILL HAS BEEN UPGRADED TO TINKER!

TINKER DEVICES MAY BE CREATED AT A NEAR FUTURE LEVEL WITHIN YOUR SPECIALITIES. DEVICES OUTSIDE OF YOUR SPECIALITIES, BUT RELATED MAY BE CREATED AT A MODERN LEVEL.

LEVEL 2

SPECIALTIES INCLUDE

MAD BOMBEREXOPLANET EXPLORATION.My mind was filled with new knowledge. The bomb that Mannequin had used wasn't one that I could create yet. I intuitively understood that there were several future levels of devices when I leveled up.

What were the levels?

Future, far future, mad science? I wasn't sure. What I did know was that as I added specializations, the things that were outside of what I could do would shrink further and further.

Even now, I could see designs in my head that might be able to help the people in the bay- 3d food printers that would make food from cellulous, new water treatment options that would be cheaper and more environmentally safe.

If I took Dragon's powers, or if I just worked with her, I might be able to replicate my designs in a way that ordinary scientists could work with. Then I'd be able to start making a real difference in the world.

It looked like the Giants were all dead; whatever the bomb had been was a disintegration bomb, probably originally meant to dig tunnels for extrastellar settlements.

"Yes!" Crawler was ecstatic, and it looked like great parts of his skin had been burned away and was quickly being replaced by a glasslike substance.

"Do you want me to wait for you to regenerate?" I asked politely.

"Naw," he said. "I get better results when I'm stressed."

"Me too!" I said. "Except my powers aren't just reactive. They get stronger the more I use them."

He turned his head and he glared at me.

"I've got the best powers ever," he said.

Grinning, I said, "Bet you can't fly, or stick people in a timeless pocket dimension, or I don't know, have a missile attack? Also, I've still got my looks. I've got the best powers ever. I've already killed the Siberian."

"What?" he asked.

"Did you know that she was just a projection? There was a fat old dude in a van."

"She was supposed to fight me!" he said.

He wouldn't care about Jack dying; Jack had been a means to an end. I'd known that the Siberian would be a sore point.

"Well, there's a lot of stuff that's not going to happen to you now," I said. "Like living."

"Nobody can kill me!"

"Well, I can try, and if I can't, I'll just throw you into space," I said. "Drifting forever. Once you adapt to the vacuum and the radiation and the cold, there will be nothing left for you to adapt to."

He stopped.

"Just imagine," I said. "Trapped for billions of years. Once you leave the solar system there will be nothing but the stars. Maybe you'll get lucky and find a black hole somewhere, but even then, time slows down to an infinity on the event horizon."

I didn't actually know that was true, but I was betting that he didn't know either. He didn't seem like a reader.

"Forever with nobody to kill or talk to, unable to control your movement or do anything. It'd be worse than being a paraplegic; at least they have friends and things to do. You'd be nothing more than a rock in space, forever."

He stared at me, and I could tell I'd struck a nerve.

"Only way it won't happen is if you kill me first," I said, spreading my arms. I made the little come at me gesture with my right hand. "But I know you're too weak for that."

He leapt toward me, spitting acid in my face.