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originally posted in:The New Dojo
1/5/2018 11:14:07 PM
1
"Yeah," he said, voice trailing off, "bored..."
There was a soft beeping sound. It seemed that Dale's clothes were done.
"There's a couple of security people I know. If you're looking for an extra job for some more money, I could slip them your name, if you want."
English
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"Actually, that's be great. Gives me some more opportunities. Playing the hero... Doesn't pay my bills." The burly man watched as his clothes were finished, and uncrossed his arm to receive the bundle when it came to him. "As much as I want it to, at least."
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"Barely ever does," Mason agreed, "anyways, with that tourney and from what I'm seeing so far, you'll probably get the job." Mason's watch glowed softly. Surprised, he tapped on its faced and cocked his eyebrow in response, smiling. "Looks like you've already been accepted. They mostly do freelance stuff, like just stop trouble wherever it starts. Do that and you get paid - easy enough gig." [i]But not in a place where the criminals are gods.[/i]
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Dale kept a straight face, thinking it odd that he had not even reached out to the group before they "accepted" him. Perhaps his tourney popularity was bigger than he thought. It was also clear that the washing man had more too him than Dale had originally thought. "Sounds fair. Where do I meet these contractors?"
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Mason pretended to look at one of his machines and shrugged. He couldn't afford Dale seeing any dishonesty in his eyes. "Don't meet them, per se. From what I hear, you make sure people are in line around the Dojo and then they'll officially contact and pay you." Half-truth again. The Mourners would find Dale after he proved that he too sought justice. "Lucky for you, I've been commissioned to offer one free piece of gear or an upgrade of your choice. They cover the bill." Another odd piece of logic, but not anything too strange for the Dojo.
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[spoiler]Oof. Dale's axe has been changed to a Zweihander after I realized that the original axe design would provide no help in pvp because once in that range he'd only need his fists. We'll just say that he had the sword on his back?[/spoiler] "Generous. Though I suppose if it helps in cleaning the filth off the streets, [i]and[/i] puts cash in my pocket, it's better than nothing." He uncrossed his arms, wiping the palms against his shorts, and sighing. The conversation had taken a suspicious turn, to which he both welcomed and feared. He could end up caught in something bigger than him, and hurt someone else. Someone he cared about. However, desperate times called for desperate measures. "An upgrade, huh? Well, let's say I choose to take the offer, which I will, what defines 'upgrade'?"
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[spoiler]Yeah that works my guy[/spoiler] A few more taps on his watch's face signalled the drones to hover over Dale, washing him in a transparent holographic field and sending the image to Mason's personal interface. "Well let's see. Name something and I'll tell you if it's impossible or not. I'm mostly just ordered to upgrade current equipment, but the commission here says I can give you additional modules or supplements instead. That sword you have there. Drones are telling me it's well-made. Serve you well?" Mason's voice went void of all suspicion. Weapon-talk was his speciality, and his area of passion.
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Dale kept a close eye on the drones, and then moved his attention back to the man, rather slowly. His eyes remained still and dull, he was a silent, near unreadable man. But with his suspicions, he made sure to look like a stone wall. "More than you can imagine. Don't know how many trees I could fell in one throw." Throw? "But yeah- a perfect weapon for me. Allows me to crush anything I want, at a respectable distance."
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Poker face. His lack of expression said everything he didn't want to say. Gone was the warm and welcome Dale, replaced by suspicious eyes and thoughts. Rightfully so, Mason agreed. He just got a new job that made little to no sense. "Sorry, if I heard that right, felling trees? Swords don't usually cut the job for that. No pun intended." He couldn't help himself there. Basic weapons knowledge was one of his first specialized prerequisites from his former job, and it was impossible to quell all of his old habits.
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"Oh, no. I have this for a weapon, but it comes with some special abilities. Common around here, hm? Listen. This sword is capable of murdering anything I've come across... Because I am strong." He slowly pulled the weapon off his back, patting the flat of the blade in one hand, holding it by the massive hilt. "The strongest I have ever met. I have to be, to protect those I love." There was no grunt of effort as he balanced the flat end of the blade against his shoulder, with a sigh. "If this sword cannot hurt my opponent, they cannot be destroyed by physical means."
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He nodded, but admittedly, he thought Dale was being somewhat hyperbolic. While he would never make the mistake of underestimating any Dojo citizen's strength, the whole show seemed a bit theatric. "Sorry I misunderstood then. But I still think that an axe would be good for felling trees no matter what. Magic and technology can't excuse a man's misuse of his weapon." Mason silently cursed himself again. Old habits. "Anything special about it? Seems like it's well-built, but I don't take you for a one-trick pony."
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"It's heavier than it looks, but can get worse. Max weight? This thing is heavier than a tank. Literally. Combined with a good swing, it'll break through nearly anything. Other than that, it comes back to me when I call for it, and is indestructible." Quite a long list, for sure. However the power of the sword was not exaggerated in any way. It would be a deadly weapon in the hands of someone who knew how to use it.
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"Not a one-trick pony then." He suddenly threw his head back and laughed. "Boy, back in my day, I would've loved to have a go at someone like you. Where I come from, it's not everyday you get to spar someone with abilities like yourself. Alas," he gestured to his crutch, "those are bygone days. So, Dale, what do [i]you[/i] think could make that magic sword of yours more effective?"
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"I have power. I have the ability to swing this like a tooth pick. However, what I don't have is a good ranged option that can get through armor... Without having me temporarily lose my only weapon." He paused, thinking as he brought a hand to his nose, pinching the bridge for a moment. "What I need, is to be able to hit people with my sword from a range, without losing it. Make my swings travel a distance, to hit with the strength I want. A SMG won't cut through the armor you see nowadays."
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[i]Because all you people care about is getting through armour[/i], he criticized quietly, [i]nothing else.[/i] "Do you have a recall system in your sword?" he suddenly asked, "like some sort of magnetic lock, perhaps? I can't help but notice you've been mentioning throwing your blade quite often. I've seen stranger fighting styles, to be honest. But if you're looking for something more practical, maybe an automated shoulder-mounted weapon of some kind."
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"Anything that packs a ranged punch... However, I'd like to make a suggestion of an item that can get me close to an opponent. Something that disorientated them, so I can smack them with my weapon before they can shoot five baseball sized bullets into me. I'll lose in a shooting match." It seemed that he was more interested in keeping to his dangerous play of getting in close, and smacking his opponent.
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He inwardly frowned at the idea. It seemed irrational to him, coming from a place where CQC was only reserved for the moments that called for it. In truth, he had dealt with metas like Dale in the past - prideful brawlers who thought that their sword or fists were superior. He could deal with them. After all, he used to make all the tricks that existed to counter them. "First thing you'd need is armour. Something at least bullet-resistant if you want to play it safe. Sloped ceramics and whatnot. Second, if you want to work on manually closing the distance, I'd recommend attached thrusters - or grappling hooks if you wanna be fancy."
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"I'm not a fancy man. And lucky for me, I do have some armor I got from a pal, but I don't wear it around everywhere, obviously." He thought about the man's words for a moment before replying, and putting his hands in his pocket. "It's not the issue of getting there quick enough, but getting hit on the way. I'd need something like a shield, energy or physical, that isn't my armor."
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"A deployable shield, perhaps?" he asked, "that could get the job done easily. Simple design, and could probably get what you need done quickly if you're looking for speed. A simple thing, mounted at the forearm that releases a hard light shield."
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"Sounds great. Allows me to get close, and then, smack them... Hard." He thought for a moment before speaking again, with a less stone solid voice than before. "So, where do I begin? I can't just accept a gift or job without knowing how to start."
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"For now, you'll be kind of like a neighbourhood watch." He visibly hesitated before speaking again. "Okay, I'll admit it. I know a bit more than I should about the gig because I have a friend in it. He tells me how they screen for people by seeing how they do without orders first. You want the job, then you'll do what you do best - stopping stuff that's wrong whenever you can." Another half-truth to help his bluff. "But as I was saying, neighbourhood watch. Show them that you're down for the job by protecting innocent people, and you'll get a reputation that gets you through screening. Don't do anything, and then the nice gifts I give you get deactivated."
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"So I get the gift first, huh? Well that helps, at least. Here's my question, though. Say no one acts up. Say by chance we don't get a Mage blowing up taverns. Will I wait? And this place protects the public, then? Why would I earn a rep, if they should have it taken care of?" The man thought for a moment before shrugging with a defeated exhale of breathe. Clearly, this place had its secrets, and prying would do him no good. "I'll just keep my eye out, then."
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"You really think nothing will happen that quick?" He just smiled with narrowed eyes. Maybe Dale was right to be suspicious, but his inquiries had triggered some unpleasant memories that even he couldn't hold back. "Look around you, Dale. Look around you and tell me it's humanly possible to save people from all the chaos that happens here." Mason's voice was incredibly bitter now. His smile was only on his face, failing to reach anything else. "Look. Look and see how many goddamn superpowered metas are too obsessed with seeing who's the strongest to notice what they do. Look at every single private army and see how they do next to [i]nothing[/i] to protect innocent people." He was on a roll now. Gone was the passionate old man talking about his craft - this was someone almost completely different. He was angry. "I don't speak for these people, but I do know that they're smaller and next to nothing compared to those lot. They came here with me from a place that's civilized, unless like mess. Just like me, they're new. But at least they're bloody trying," he shot viciously. The hostility drained from his eyes. He regained his composure, took a breath and cast his vision to the ground in apology. "I'm sorry. I really am. You don't deserve to be on the receiving end of an old man's tangent." While he spoke in half-truths, all of his emotion felt genuine. Admittedly, Mason knew it was the realest thing he showed Dale.
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The man received the words as he did before. He was a stone wall, but the words did crack the solid rock. It wasn't hard to imagine what he was saying. The murderous illusionist, a bar fight between Titans with electric fists, if anything broke out in the tavern, his wife was not built for combat. His hands clenched on his arms, but that was the only November during the spiel. Dale was a silent man during these matters. He was a murderer himself. But that was in the past, despite how it seems to haunt him in the present. He closed his eyes in the silver after the rant and took a deep breath before responding, as if gaining his composure. The grip relaxed. "We all have our fair share of troubles. I won't ask you about your leg, or your past. It's clear you have been hurt, physically and mentally, but don't you worry." He took the great hammer off his back, (I took your advice lmao, giving a bo staff to someone else.) and tapped the head against his palm with his dull eyes tracing its movement. "We all have something we want to protect. I'll do anything so that people won't have to feel the pain which I might later on, an excruciating pain." The bland eyes seemed brighter as he continued his talk, but, he they dulled as he took another deep breath. "But, I can't promise the best results. As of now, killing people for their crimes is off the list, unless I do it by mistake."
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"It's all we can do to try," he sighed, lowering his head. "My wife was killed by someone who came from here." His confession, despite Dale not pressing further into him, was needed. Scout or not, he felt like the man would better understand if he knew. Besides, after getting riled up like that, the memories were plaguing him. It was only human to want something off his chest. "She worked as a security guard at a place called Cyden Industries. Apparently the organization was involved in some shady business, and got involved with the wrong people." Mason's eyes turned dark. "Have you heard of a man named Alex Wilson?"
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At the mention of the wife dying, the hammer stopped tapping, the grip of his hands making his fingers white on the weapon. It was the only thing keeping the massive man from shaking. He feared the death of his wife more than the death of himself, of his business or his pride. His wife, was everything. Despite the seemingly deadly grip on the metal, it did not budge, only keep the man in place. Dale looked at his hands when he spoke, his head down to hide the fire now lit in his eyes. All he replied with was a "No."
