There was something sobering about the message from the League. Even after what we went through, and now on our day off, they were giving us jobs to do. It was mentally exhausting. That, and meeting Boss for the first time, had really set me back. It was unexpected and happened so suddenly that even after a few hours I hadn't processed the interaction.

Something about him still didn't quite sit right. There was more to him than he was showing me. I was too stunned by the weight of my past to really question him. Maybe it was a gambit on his part to reveal himself, but a risk worth taking if it furthered his goals.

Saying goodbye to Debra and Hank was more difficult than expected. They had accepted me for who I was. A hug and a firm handshake from them, and I told them how much I appreciated their hospitality. Roxy's mother even bagged up some leftovers for if I wanted them later on.

I made a promise to myself that if I ever got a mouth, their cooking would be one of the first meals I wanted to have. I'd sneak away from Goldarch if I had to. After so long without the ability to eat, I was used to it. But now, I was manifesting the change. It was an inevitability, whatever the cost.

With the farewells out of the way, we got into the Meteor and headed back down the long road back to the city. Our city, even if we didn't have a current home there. A morose silence filled the interior of our vehicle.

Clara was back to planning in her notepad. Roxy fiddled with the bracelet her parents had given her for her birthday. It was a chain of gems, each polished stone a swirl of bright orange and rich browns. Very on theme. She loved it.

I was rather concerned about the current proceedings.

The League hadn't assigned us any patrols or regular work, which made this impromptu mission odd. We didn't even have our hero outfits with us, and the fire had damaged half of our possessions. Without my equipment and artefact, I felt under-prepared, even if the location wasn't meant to be dangerous. There was a reason we were being sent.

A processing plant out in the outskirts. All contact had been lost with them earlier in the day. Totally outside of our jurisdiction, both geographically and role-wise. We weren't investigators.

[Your parents are pretty great.]

The super paused for a moment before giving me a soft smile. "Yeah, they are. I miss the simple life sometimes. Out in the fields…"

[Did you wear a straw hat?]

She narrowed her eyes at me.

There wasn't an exact science as to who or how people received superpowers. It was rare that they were genetically inherited, even if most supers were born with their abilities. In a way, that was a good thing. It made it more difficult for the Government to track and follow potential supers. On the other hand, it meant that children didn't have anyone strong to protect them.

My insides ached at the thought. Goldarch might be a cage, but it also kept safe those who would otherwise be persecuted. From… people like who I used to be.

[How do we fight such an inherently corrupt system?]

Her expression turned into more of a grimace. "I think you lost me there."

[Hmm. Perhaps changing the world is beyond my purpose.]

Roxy turned in her chair to seek some answers that made sense from the techie. "Clara?"

"I have my own metaphysical qualms in the process of solution-seeking. How long until we reach our destination?"

The super sighed and turned back to the screens, fully aware that Clara could check herself, as the techie set up the autopilot for the route. "It's going to be a long day, isn't it?"

[Already has been. Bets on getting attacked at the processing plant?]

"If we are, I'm going to knock some sense into Kingston. We aren't prepared for this."

[There's nothing we cannot accomplish.]

She rolled her eyes but didn't dispute the fact. Although, she wasn't wrong. I had a couple of emergency magazines filled with steel balls, but I always felt awkward having a mag sticking out of my arm. We had five ballistic vests in one of the cupboards that we'd never used, but otherwise our casual clothing wouldn't help us in a fight.

For the Director to push us in this direction, he either wanted to teach us a lesson… or we were doing him a favor. The kind that would hopefully sway him into giving us a nice house.

The next few hours were spent in contemplative silence. As sunlight turned to dusk and the shape of Goldarch appeared on the horizon, the Meteor took us off the road. It was uncommon for the city to have facilities in the outskirts, but they usually had decent defenses to ward off mutants and wild creatures.

I had a feeling the lack of communication from the plant wasn't just due to a tech blackout or severed line.

We pulled up a few hundred meters from the main structure. From the monitors inside the vehicle, the place looked abandoned. Stack of dark towers, massive funnels nearer the west side. Furnaces for disposing of hazardous materials. At least, ones that could be burned. The alarms for fire, chemical, or biohazard leaks had not gone off. So we were dealing with an unknown.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Still, I was glad to have a gas mask.

"Let's get this over with," Roxy grumbled as she got up from her seat. I soon followed, and we went to get the ballistic vests from the back.

Clara stood to receive one as well.

The super frowned at her. "What are you doing? Are you not watching from the Meteor?"

"I realize that I am a liability as I am; however, the fight against Chevalier showed me that my vulnerability is unacceptable." The techie turned to look up at me. "As your sidekick, Gunquake, I need to be more present and capable in dangerous situations. If you allow it."

[Is that what some of your notepad planning has been about?]

She nodded sternly. The furrowed brow could only mean she was serious about it. While we didn't need a sixth Disaster, giving Clara more options when shit hit the fan wasn't a bad thing. Roxy was apprehensive. I wasn't willing to risk the techie's life, but I knew the amount of effort she put into her work.

[We'll need to go through some proper training before I rubber-stamp that idea. For now, just stay close and keep your eyes peeled.]

Clara nodded again, biting back a response as Roxy handed her a vest. I rolled up my sleeve so that I could open the magwell of my gun-arm. Slotted in a ten-round steel ball mag, and put two in my slacks pocket. The Meteor wasn't much of a rolling set-up room since we had been transporting everything from our ruined home to a storage yard.

It had my goggles, though. I put them on and double-checked my messages. Just the same ones that Roxy had received.

"I hate working in plain clothes," Roxy complained. One last grumble before the back door of the Meteor opened out.

It was warm out here. Not unusually so, because this was almost the wastelands. It was familiar, but there was a tinge in the air that reminded me of the downfall of our homestead. No smoke from the stacks ahead of us, but the area was covered in a thin layer of ash or similar.

"Perhaps Kingston has recently read up on exposure therapy." Clara grimaced at the surroundings as she tried to adjust the slightly-too-large vest.

Whatever Roxy said in response was too murmured for me to pick it up, but it was probably expletives. My attention was focused on the building. There was a car park to the left, with maybe two dozen vehicles. From this distance, I couldn't see any signs of destruction or forced entry.

[Any record of mutants in the area?]

"There was a tribe further to the west, but they've kept a distance after a failed attack almost eight years ago," Clara said. "Occasional creature or individual attacks every year, but no employee injuries. Seems the toxic atmosphere is enough to keep most away, Gunquake."

It didn't seem like the sort of place a group of criminals would rob or take over. A villain might, but this would be more murder than most could stomach. Breaking the law was one thing, but wiping out an entire facility would just earn you an S-Rank sized hole through your torso.

Well, if they were like me.

[Let's play detective then. Cautiously through the front entrance.]

Roxy gave me a reluctant nod and took the lead. Even in her casual clothing, she had access to her full strength. I'd rather she acted as our shield than put myself in danger. It was just tactics.

The walk up to the front of the building made the structure no less imposing. It was made of much darker brickwork. Deep gray, with windows that were either tinted or covered up inside. Reminded me of a factory. Clara and I looked over the vehicles as the super went up to the wide front door.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," the techie concluded. "Looks like they were just left unattended. No signs of tampering or attempted theft."

[Could be that some were stolen. There is plenty of empty space in the lot.]

We walked over to the super, but gave her enough room so that she could check for traps. The three of us in our party clothes and ballistic vests were probably quite a sight. There was a security camera watching the door, but I couldn't tell if it was working.

Roxy gave us a nod, and then hit the door.

It flung open, revealing a surprisingly well-lit lobby within. Immediately, the stench of death washed over us. Clara a little more behind me and I lifted my gun-arm up. The super put her forearm up across her nose.

I stepped up beside her and looked inside.

The lobby area had a reception desk to the right, where the workers could clock in and out. On the far wall was a noticeboard with timetables and other such paperwork. Two vending machines hummed to themselves in the corner. Over in the far corner was the exit, where a faded sign told that the next area was to put on their protective suits. A smaller door beside the desk led to a locker room.

Of course, the smell was coming from the four bodies slumped around the room. Two up against the wall, one behind the desk still seated, and the last splayed out by the door to the factory interior.

I took a glance at the seated figure before stooping down to the closest against the wall.

[They are all missing their eyes.]

"Yeah," Roxy gasped, trying to minimize the amount of air breathed in here. "Fucking, what."

Clara kneeled down beside me and furrowed her brow at the corpse. It was a human male, maybe in his mid-twenties. Dressed in dirty blue overalls. The bloody eye sockets were the only visible injury, although that didn't account for the terrible stench radiating from him.

"One of my prototype shells was a detonation that would rupture every eyeball within a room," Clara mentioned casually. "The difficult part was stopping it from doing the same to your own eyes, Gunquake."

Comparatively, I would have said the difficult part was sleeping at night knowing what horrors the inventions inflicted on people, but that wasn't really the point right now.

[That wouldn't kill someone, however.]

The techie tapped the side of her head, and her eyes switched from green to a fluorescent blue. She scanned over the corpse before switching them back to their normal shade.

"I'm not detecting anything." Clara pulled out her multi-tool and used it to pry open the mouth of the corpse. She moved in close to get a better look. "No signs of vomiting or ingestion of foreign substances. Could you check the jaw of the seated one, Rockslide?"

Roxy grumbled but stepped over. "Mouth is… closed shut. Rest of the body is still floppy."

[If it were some manner of biohazard, I would expect the bodies to be… arranged differently.]

Based on their positions around the room, I would have proposed them to have been shot. Maybe killed with blunt force trauma. There were no real blood splatters around the room to suggest a fight, however. The lobby had wear and tear. Grime and dust from years of use - but was otherwise 'clean'. While Roxy stepped over to us, I moved the head of the man forward. No exit wounds on the back of his head.

[Detective work isn't really my forte. We should at least report to the League that we have found dead employees. There should be at least forty on staff today, correct?]

"Correct, Gunquake." Clara stood and dusted down her knees. "Let me send a message off to-"

The three of us froze as the muted sound of clattering metal came from deeper within the facility.

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