Chapter 292 - My SI Stash #92 - Bringing a Pickaxe to a Power Fight by AkallasvonAerok (Worm/Minecraft)

-More Minecraft-power MC~ This one is set in Worm with one of my favorite mods, Thaumscraft! Also some kidnapping via nether portals and trapping peeps into tunnels filled with traps.

Synopsis: ???

Rated: ???

Words: 50K

Posted on: forums.spacebattles.com/threads/bringing-a-pickaxe-to-a-power-fight-worm-minecraft-si-reincarnation.713077/ (Akallas von Aerok)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀) -I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1.1-1.9

Amelia Lavere

"Are you hurt?" a boy asked.

She looked up from where she was sitting, hands wiping her tears away. She saw a boy looking down at her, but there was something odd about him that caught her attention despite her sadness.

Instead of t-shirt and pair of jeans that everyone wore, the boy before her who was her age wore an oversized yellow helmet with flashlight and bright yellow overall pants and a white t-shirt. On top of this oddity, he had an oversized pickaxe slung over his shoulder.

She stared at him, dumbfounded.

He looked at her, his exasperation clear on his face. "I asked, are you hurt?" he repeated.

She shook her head.

"Then what's wrong?" he asked. He asked a lot of questions.

"... My new family doesn't like me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't families normally adopt you if they like you?"

"They don't like me."

"A very weird conundrum."

"Conundaram?" she repeated.

"It means a confusing problem."

"Why do you use big words like a.d.u.l.ts?"

"Because I am one."

"No, you're not."

"Are too."

"Are not."

"Are too."

"Are not."

"... I work."

"So?"

"I live by myself."

"... Okay."

"..."

"..."

"Do you want to come and see where I live?"

She looked at him funnily. "Why?"

"Because you're sad and don't like your new family. You can come live with me if you don't tell anyone where I live."

She frowned. "Fine. I'll see where you live."

He grinned stupidly. "Okay!" His pickaxe disappeared. She gaped.

"Y-You're a cape!"

"Am not."

"You have powers!"

He looked around before turning back to her.

"You're not supposed to say that out loud. Trouble comes if you do."

She whittled. "Sorry."

"It's alright. But I'm not a cape."

"But powers…?" she whispered, very confused.

He just shrugged. "I don't wear masks. It's stupid."

She gasped.

He turned around and walked away. She hesitated before jumping after him.

She couldn't keep her jaw from dropping upon entering the boy's "domain." He led her through this portal, and they came to a rocky tunnel. There was another portal on the other side, and when they went through the second portal, she came to a weird but fun place!

It was a cave, but it was so large and wide. There were apple trees growing and grass and flowers and -!

And a skeleton inside a cage?

She stared at the skeleton before turning back to the boy.

"You're a cape." It was not a question but a statement, because who else but a cape would imprison a skeleton.

The skeleton stared at her with a blank stare as equally devastating as the boy's own blank stare; they weren't effective on her at all.

After staring at her for few moments, he shrugged and continued deeper into the cave of glowing stones, greenery and waterfalls. As she followed him, the brightly lit and humongous cavern changed into a narrower corridor, lit up not by the glowing stones she saw in the cavern but torches that gave off light and heat but no smoke. The rocky walls gave away to large stone bricks and wooden doors. All of the doors were bigger and taller than her.

Then he led her to another door at the end of the corridor. It was a wooden door, too, but there was something different about it. For one, it was far more worn out than the other doors.

He opened it… and she saw other kids. Only one among them was older than her and the rest of the kids.

"Welcome to my home," he said as he led her inside. "If you want to stay here, then these kids will be your family. Introductions, everyone!"

After that, it was a whirlwind of talking and shouting and giggling and laughing. She played games with them, ate meals that tasted good, and slept soundly.

She found a new home and liked this place more than the other home.

Amelia Lavere woke up, and wondered why she had that dream of all dreams. It was the first time she came to the Underground Orphanage, as the "orphanage director" liked to call it.

"Amy, get up! It's time to eat!"

She grumbled as she pushed off the bedsheets slowly and stumbled out of her dark room. She opened the door and let the light of the common room blast her in the face. She squinted as she walked out of her room.

And the annoying voice of the "director" grated on her ear again.

"Amy, go back in there and get dressed up. You know that I don't like my boys and girls eating in pajamas."

She opened her eyes a bit more and stared at the "director," the same boy now a teenage boy who ran the entire orphanage with little help from anyone else.

He was a five foot eleven giant (not really, he was a fifteen year old boy, but it was the thought that counted because compared to him, she was tiny with her five foot three). He still wore yellow overalls, though these were bigger, much baggier, and a bit darker compared to the overalls he wore when she first met him. His short hair looked more like a helmet than hair because of how evenly he cut it. It wasn't exactly a bowl cut, though.

Overall, he looked dorky in those overalls and weird bowling ball hairstyle, but everyone in the orphanage knew better than to underestimate those overalls. He could tank rifle fire with those overalls, which made no sense and thus made him a cape, a title he still refused to take up.

As he demanded, because that's what it was, she went back into her room and came back out of it in her usual attire of blue t-shirt, sunset red knee-skirt, and black hoodie.

He saw her outfit, nodded in approval, and slid a plate filled with food in front of her from the center of the common room's kitchen table, which was kind of like a bartender's counter but filled with food ingredients and not alcohols.

Around the table were other orphans. Most of them were older teenagers like herself and him.

There was Cindy Marlene, the oldest of everyone at the tender age of seventeen. She wasn't a cape like him or her, but was an explorer. She roamed the tunnels that he made with two others and "audited" to make sure that there was nothing going wrong with the tunnels.

An example of something going wrong would be a spot where torches hadn't been placed and thus was dark.

And dark tunnels spawned monsters.

Amy grimaced as she remembered fighting a zombie by herself. She had gone out to just take some time for herself when something scratched her in the back hard. She had turned around and saw a zombie. She lashed out with her power and killed it by causing it to seize all of its cellular functions.

It … had been harrowing because it was her first lone encounter with monsters.

On the other hand …

She looked at him as she ate another spoonful of scrambled eggs that he made.

Tyler was a weird person. He didn't talk like any of the kids but more like an a.d.u.l.t. He set out and created this place by himself at the age of six. He fought nightmarish creatures on a daily basis to get them what they needed. He was why other kids like Cindy tried to make themselves useful. Unlike other orphanages that some of the kids here had been to, Tyler's Underground Orphanage felt very much like a family, even for the outliers. Everyone took part in its activities, whether it was harvesting, fishing, or any of the other mundane things they wouldn't do elsewhere. They learned about each other and … it was safe here.

Amy actually talked to Cindy about what she was going to do once she became eighteen. Since Tyler was adamant about everyone getting their education, most of the older kids were ready to take the GED once they turned 18. Cindy said that she would take the GED, but it was only to prove that Tyler's work with her hadn't been wasted. She would stay at the Orphanage and help with its upkeep just like she did now.

She wondered what she was going to do. With her power, she could set up a clinic or something like that, work at a hospital or even the PRT.

"Done," she said as she pushed the plate back to Tyler just as someone else entered the common room. It was Zoey, a eight year old girl Tyler picked up from the streets a year ago. She had settled in fine into the Underground Orphanage despite her initial passive aggressive attitude. Zoey quickly ran up and sat next to Amy.

Amy smiled.

Despite her own questions about her future, the fact that her status now as a member of the Underground Orphanage was secure. She was also one of the five capes of the Underground Orphanages, known to the rest of the city above as "Tunnel Kids."

Amy still remembered that fight vividly.

"Hey Amy, Amy!" Zoey called. "Are you going to be working with plants again?"

"Yes," she said. "I think I want to make plant dogs this time."

Zoey squealed and hugged her.

Before all of the cape business, Amy had been wary about using her powers. It made her so different from others and yet made her that much closer to Tyler.

But that before the capes of the city above decided to intrude into Tyler's tunnels.

That was before she had to create abominations just to keep others alive and hold the fort when Tyler was out to whittle down E88 on the surface.

Now, she relied on her powers. She used them daily, improving everything she saw as necessary. If an orphan had eyesight issues, then she would fix it. If someone had early cancer, then she would fix it. If another abomination needed to be created to keep the Orphanage and its orphans safe, then she would create one on the spot.

And she did happily, because as Tyler said, everyone in the Orphanage was family.

"Hey, hey. Can you make me a husky? I always wanted a husky!" Zoey giggled.

Amy shrugged. "I don't see why not, but you know how most of my things turn out to be."

Zoey frowned. "Eww. You mean they explode?"

She facepalmed. "No. I meant that they're going to be red."

"Eh. Tyler's red when he comes back from the portal. I don't mind."

Amy winced. Tyler was only red because he was on the other side of the portal in a place he called the "Nether," slaughtering monsters there by the hundreds each day to pick up meager amounts of gold nuggets they dropped upon death, so that he could sell those to provide the Orphanage with things they couldn't get on their own.

"I certainly don't mind," Tyler said from his place at the kitchen, making more scrambled egg even as his free hand pushed a plate of baked potato, scrambled eggs, two strips of bacon, and peas to Zoey. Zoey took it eagerly, frowning a little at the peas, and then started to eat. "Give them bioluminescent lights, and they can patrols the mines, too."

Amy blinked as she thought about that.

"Right. I haven't thought about that," she muttered.

Tyler, despite how well he meant in everything he did, couldn't be more focused about the things he saw as necessary. Everything about him was focused on keeping the other orphans happy and healthy. It was why he made giant underground farms, spending hundreds of hours by himself, hauling literal hills worth of stone out. He made aquariums and underground lakes so that they could fish and grow fish for food. He provided them with library's worth of books, mostly educational and some entertainment.

He went and fought til he was in literal tatters in the Nether for scraps of gold nuggets to sell because one of the orphans said they wanted a exclusive Legend figurine. Nobody asked him for anything after that, too afraid to see him die. Even so, he went out everyday and fought, coming back with a bag full of gold nuggets and red from head to toe in the blood of the monsters he killed.

He didn't seem to realize that the kids just wanted him to be around.

He always had to do something, and his thought process seemed to be perpetually stuck there.

Tyler stopped, and then whistled.

There was a thud and then one of the doors opened. Joseph, a sleepy teen, yawned. He looked at Tyler. "Yes?" he asked.

If she was the older sister most of the kids came to, then Joseph was the one who took after Tyler the most. Joseph certainly didn't spare anything less than his best in trying to do so after Tyler rescued him from the clutches of the Merchants.

"Cook for the kids. I need to check up on the surface," he said as he pulled his apron off.

Amy sighed as did some of the other teenagers who were in one mind with her on this issue.

Tyler never ever stopped moving around and doing things for the benefit of the orphanage. They wished he would stick around more.

Joseph grimaced. He too thought the same as Amy, but couldn't turn down Tyler's requests for shit.

"Okay," he said as he walked up to the kitchen and took over. The other kids, not teenagers, looked down at that. It didn't matter that Joseph was a better cook; they wanted Tyler to cook for them.

Tyler gave everyone who was in the common room a head rub before he headed over to the armory.

Chapter 1.2 Armsmaster

He stood across from Director Piggot.

"Is the money ready?" she asked him.

He nodded as he presented her the case. The money in the suitcase was not pulled out of banks or any checks. It was absconded from gang stashes and confisticated assets. They were lost as far as paperwork was concerned either because they were "too damaged" or "part of evidence required for investigation."

Armsmaster hated that he and Piggot had to go this far just to keep the PRT ENE and Protectorate ENE afloat.

She nodded in satisfaction, but the fact that she was unhappy with this was clear to even him.

"When is he going to be here?"

Armsmaster looked at the clock on his helmet's UI.

"In an hour."

The person they were waiting for was a … controversial individual.

In many circles, he was considered a paragon of independence and justice. To others, he was a dangerous vigilante with the power to destabilize the status quo and thus the stability of the world.

But as far as both Armsmaster and Piggot was concerned, this person was neither a paragon nor a threat to the world. This person was worth more to them than the far away authority of Washington D.C. and the powerhouses that were Los Angelos, New York City, and Houston.

"I have a question, director," he spoke up. They had few minutes for a question or two, so he decided to ask it. It would affect his efficiency otherwise.

"Yes?"

"Why did you want to meet him after all this time?"

PRT and Protectorate ENE have been both in contact with him shortly after Marquis's incarceration. It had been a decade since then, and this made this individual the longest lasting rogue in all of Brockton Bay, one that survived Empire Eighty-Eight's assault and then counterattacked.

Director Piggot drummed her fingers once and then twice.

"I want to know what kind of person he is."

The rogue in question was young, which made his survival and flourishing accomplishments that much more astonishing for everyone. In fact, when Armsmaster first met him, he wasn't even ten years old while Armsmaster himself had just graduated from the Wards program. So shocked at the revelation of such a young cape, Armsmaster had stumbled over his words. The rogue simply gave him a nod while Armsmaster was trying to say the right words for recruitment and just left him. The second time they met, the rogue came to him and asked if he was interested in an under the table deal.

Armsmaster was about to refuse before the rogue cited too many information about the failing nature of PRT ENE. He presented his deal as a way to keep PRT ENE - and thus the city of Brockton Bay - afloat. He took this deal to the then director of the ENE and got approval.

Continued to this day with Piggot's own approval, this single deal was responsible for providing for a half of the PRT ENE's budget.

A whole half of the entire budget!

The rogue never gloated over this, never tried to use his leverage to gain something out from the ENE branches, and never took on additional requests.

For some reason, this satisfied Armsmaster.

Apparently, it was not so for the director.

"Cape title: Pickaxe-"

"I know what his name is, what his age is, how tall, skinny, and so on. It was in your chronicled report."

"Then what do you wish to know, ma'am?"

Piggot grunted. "Cape or not, people all have things they do to keep themselves sane. I highly doubt that this deal is his because he could do far more with it than trading with us."

This was true.

On average, Pickaxe delivered over a ton of gold each year. On "good" years, he delivered over two tons of gold. This made him, as a result, one of the biggest producer of raw gold in all of New England, and outside of the PRT ENE's director, deputy director, the previous director, and Protectorate ENE's leader, Armsmaster himself, no one knew about this. Armsmaster bought all of those gold at half the market price and sold it to the market at market price as a third party company unrelated to the PRT or the Protectorate. The company paid all of the taxes involved, and the half of the profit went to PRT ENE … at a whopping 13.5 million USD.

That money was barely enough to keep the equipments constantly replaced when they broke, pay all of the bureaucrats of the PRT ENE, pay all of the field agents, all of the employee's health benefits, and so on.

The other half of the profit was kept in multiple bank accounts, all of them collecting interest.

It irked Armsmaster so much that they had to rely on what was basically a donation from a rogue to keep a federal agency operating just to maintain that edge against the villains of Brockton Bay.

No.

He hated it, because whenever he thought of any victory he might have achieved, that nagging part of himself at the back of his head would always tell him just how much he owed the victory to a pubescent rogue. He looked over his armor and saw just how much of his budget came from the rogue's donation, how much of the weapon's parts were bought with the money from the rogue, how much of the field agents were hired with the rogue's money, and how much -!

He calmed himself down.

He didn't hate Pickaxe. How could he? Pickaxe came to them at their lowest and brought about this donation in the guise of a business deal. It was what kept the PRT ENE afloat.

No, Armsmaster just hated his inability and self-doubt.

"I am aware," he said to director's remark.

She grunted. "I hate depending on him."

"I agree." It was why the other half of the profits was kept without being spent. If Pickaxe ever turned his back on them, then the ten year's worth of saved up money would give them another ten years to survive on and find other solutions to.

His UI alerted him. He only had forty-five minutes before he had to go.

"Director."

She nodded to him.

He left her office to meet the legendary rogue of Brockton Bay.

Chapter 1.3 Tyler

He nodded to Armsmaster, and Armsmaster nodded back as the two exchanged their goods. Armsmaster handed him a suitcase, and upon opening it, Tyler found bundles of hundreds within. He counted the number of bundles and then randomly selected one of them to count the number of bills.

Armsmaster grunted, and he grunted back to him.

"I have more than the agreed upon amount," he said as he always said.

Tyler rolled his eyes, but it wasn't shown to Armsmaster because of the modified diamond helmet he wore. He knew that he gave Armsmaster more than what was agreed upon, and it was something he'd done every single time he met up with the Protectorate ENE leader.

Nothing more was said after that as he turned around with his now closed suitcase and left.

"Thank you."

Tyler stopped, surprised. "It's just business. Citizens pay their taxes, and I sell to you to keep this city safe." Then he continued walking forward. He heard Armsmaster leave the secluded area of the Trainyards.

With but a few swipes, he pulled out a pair of Elytra from within his inventory, an action that still confused him despite the fact that he had done this everyday for the last decade, and equipped it, which pushed the diamond chestplate armor he wore into his hands as a pixelated thin slab of … something. He stored it in his inventory, and then he took off on a run.

He pulled out a single unit of Firework and a potion of leaping.

Funny thing about potions. As long as he added ingredients that was literally the real world version of the game item, like a real rabbit's foot, then the potion came out as if I had used the dropped game item.

He popped the cork, and downed the entire green potion in one go. Then he jumped … and just as he began to descend, his wings opened up, and he used the firework to propel himself high into the air.

With a boost and a whistle, he soared high into the sky. Wind buffeted him as he flew higher away from the gain but seemed to gain no distance to the moon. And then as his ascent came to a crawl, he tilted down, and glided towards where his nether portal in the city was.

He had six portals present within the city of Brockton Bay and its immediate suburbs.

Three of them were duds that only led into the nether and had no other portals that led anywhere else nearby. While people could go through one portal and come out any other portal that are in the nether, the travel would be narrow and fatigue-inducingly hot at the least and death by lava at the worst.

Yes, the things they don't tell you about the Minecraft Nether was that the place was mindnumbingly hot away from the lavas, and skin burning close to it.

The other three portals led to different places. The first of these portals led to the garden that was connected to the rest of the Underground Orphanage. It was guarded by a dozen iron golems in the tunnels between the actual orphanage and the garden itself. The second portal led to the deepest parts of the mines he'd created, which was nearly three kilometers below the sea level, and those mine shafts had no lighting to them whatsoever. It was effectively speaking a trap to deal with intruders where monsters constantly spawned from the edges of the giant chasm upon which the portal was situated at the bottom of, even he had trouble surviving down there without his full max enchanted diamond armor set.

And the last portal? It led to his little stash deep inside the earth, far away from any other place underground locations. It was where he held his truly impressive items.

It was also booby trapped to kingdom come. Secret entrances, tripwires, stone plates, arrows, firebombs, one block vertical tunnel down to lava, and whatever else. You name it, and it had been built there. Of course, just because it had been built didn't mean that it would stay there.

The one he was looking for was, however, the nether portal to the garden. Out of all of the portals within Brockton Bay, that particular portal was the best hidden portal.

He glided down into an alley, and no one saw him in the darkness of the morning. He set down on the ground and walked deeper into this alley. He set aside the garbages to find the tunnel down.

Now, most people would think that this vertical one meter by one meter tunnel with its ladders would lead down into the sewers, because honestly, the tunnel was built right next to it.

No, it wasn't. He missed the sewers by margin of a meter and went straight down.

He got into the tunnel, pulled the garbage pile over him by dragging the net they sat on over him and the tunnel, and then headed down.

Chapter 1.4 Tattletale

It was supposed to be a quick exploration.

Coil told her to explore Pickaxe's portals and through it. She, of course, didn't want to. There were still horror stories about what happened to Empire Eighty-Eight when they fought Pickaxe in his own tunnels. Unfortunately for her, Coil didn't give her a choice. He told her to do it.

Or else.

So… she did it, but none of the others among the Undersiders wanted to.

In the end, Coil gave her three fully armed and armored mercenaries to work with her in her exploration.

It was supposed to be a quick exploration. A confirmation of things on the other side, if you will.

It went really bad, really fast.

When they came out of the portal on the other side, it was … it was just hell. As far as the eyes can see, she saw red stuff making up the ground and lava far below.

And it was hot as hell. She began sweating a minute into the exploration, and wanted to get out by the fifth.

But Coil was adamant about exploring Pickaxe's worlds, because it couldn't be anything else.

On the seventh minute of their exploration, one of Coil's mercenaries spotted a weird creature. The best way she could have put it was to call it a ���zombie pigman."

Docile at first, the zombie pigman began to approach them slowly. Alarmed, Coil's mercenaries put a bullet into its head, killing it instantly.

That … was a wrong move.

Squeals and pig snorts rose up in cacophony, and then screams and shrieks were following them as zombie pigmen rushed down at them in hordes. At first, a dozen chased after them, squealing and shrieking. When they fell to the mercenaries' guns, two dozen followed.

Next, four dozen.

Then, a hundred.

And finally, far more than she could count on the spot joined the attack, and the mercenaries, who depended on their shiny tinkertech, died as they were torn to pieces.

She ran.

It was supposed to be a quick exploration.

'This is how I'm going to die,' Lisa thought to herself as she stumbled forward. 'I'm going to die to zombies.'

It was ridiculous, and she would have laughed hysterically if she had the strength. Instead, she coughed through her parched throat and collapsed. Hours of running had finally taken its toll on her.

Her power didn't stop working though, and told her just how perilous of a situation she was in.

Muscles overheated and lacking in energy. Lack of water from the body denotes a cessation of energy production. Extremely dehydration bordering on medical emergency.

She couldn't move, though. She just didn't have the energy.

She was so tired.

As her conscious slipped into the Morpheus, she heard the squeals and shrieks of those monsters.

And an odd sound that didn't belong with them.

Her eyes opened slowly.

And met a pair of brown eyes that shined a lot.

"Ah. She's awake!" the voice of the eyes said before they -and the head they resided in- pulled away.

She blinked slowly and wheezed.

Someone came into wherever she was with the quiet thud of a door opening. Oddly enough, Lisa didn't hear the sound of joints.

"Can't believe another one was in the nether of all places," someone grumbled. "Why doesn't Tyler just shut those portals down, for God's sake?!"

Lisa slowly turned her head towards the voice and saw someone different. Unlike the first pairs of eyes that she saw that was full of innocence and playfulness, the teenager before her had eyes that spoke of self-doubt. It wasn't written on them, so to say, and more her powers telling her every little detail she wanted and didn't want to know.

Girl is extremely familiar with this place. Annoyed at someone else. Her words indicate that this 'Tyler' is responsible for the "nether." Nether is where she was before. Nether gates are the product of Tyler. Tyler is Pickaxe.

Then Lisa saw what the girl was holding.

A cup of water.

The girl saw her eyeing the water and helped her with it. She placed the cup of lukewarm onto her hands, helped her grasp the cup and tilted it back slowly. Lisa's lips caught the edge of the cup, and her throat opened up instinctually for the life-saving water. Water tipped over the edge and trickled into her mouth. Her tired and fatigued arms wanted to push the entire content into her mouth as fast as possible, but the girl was preventing her from doing so.

Girl knows that she wants the water. Girl doesn't want her to choke, and is preventing her from choking herself with water.

Lisa didn't care, damn it! She wanted the goddamn water!

And then it was gone.

She stared into the crystal clear cup, confused and angry. Why was the water gone? She barely had a sip!

She had thirty-two sips. Her current desire for water shortened the perception of time.

She knew that! Her power didn't need to tell her that!

She didn't know that before she was reminded of it.

… F.u.c.k.i.n.g power.

She smacked her now wet lips together, but the act was weak and fragile. Lisa frowned as she realized just how close to …

How close to …

Sobs wracked her body as she curled into herself.

She almost died.

Chapter 1.5 Amelia Lavere

"What did I say about rescuing outsider capes?"

Tyler didn't respond. Instead, he just looked to the side and played cool with her.

"Tyler!"

"It's bad," he mumbled, but didn't look at her.

She sighed in defeat.

When Tyler brought in the blonde teen, whose skin had been scalded by the heat of the Nether, and parched to the point of medical emergency, she had been less than happy with Tyler.

It was clear from her costume that she was a cape, and they had a rule - a rule that he had put into place himself - about capes.

'No rescuing outsider capes.'

It was just a bad deal. Not only did most of the outsider capes want to harm the orphans and loot the orphanage, they were power hungry and combat-oriented bloodthirsty warmongers and killers.

Tyler's words, not hers.

Despite this, this new cape was the third cape he rescued.

"Then why?!"

And because Tyler wouldn't enforce his own rules, he had delegated such duty in absentia to her, the only one among the capes of Underground Orphanage who was willing to enforce those rules and capable of doing so.

Some of it had to do with the fact that she didn't want capes upsetting the peaceful life in the orphanage and not introducing other girls who were savvy in their ways of seduction, but those were the minor points.

The major issue with accepting capes, temporarily or permanently, was that they upset the orphanage, and never in a good way, did they do so.

Despite having experienced this, Tyler went and rescued another cape!

"Can't just leave her to die like that."

She slumped. "You should have. That girl is a Thinker," she hissed.

"I know."

"Then?"

"... I had a feeling."

Rage returned tenfold.

"You had a feeling? You had a feeling?!"

He still played cool.

She stomped up to him and grabbed him by his collars. "Damnit, Tyler! You know what happened last time one of those capes blabbed!"

It led to the Tunnel War, and both she and Tyler became responsible for the deaths of hundreds. No, she became responsible for deaths of few dozens and Tyler killed nearly a thousand people, not all of them from same organization.

This was part of the reason why the children and teenagers of the orphanage had a significant dislike for outsiders and non-native capes. They were brutal, thieving, heart-breaking, and pain-inducing betrayers. Most of the children didn't want to leave the orphanage once they became a.d.u.l.ts. They would rather help the orphanage, tend to the farms and gardens, mine out ores, and become explorers.

The surface became a place of misery and pain, and this was true for herself, too. She hated the surface and the people there. They cooperated only when it suited them. They didn't endure. They just took what they wanted. Tyler was adamant about teaching both sides of the argument when he taught them all history, but all she saw in his lectures was how unruly and undisciplined people - and their byproducts, communities, nations, and societies - were.

And here was Tyler, the very person instilled that dislike of the surface, bringing a surface dweller to their home.

ARGH!

"So? What's going to happen to her?" she asked. "She can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"Because she's a surface sweller!" she snapped.

"Ooh~. Amy's racist," he teased.

She blushed. "I'm not!"

"Are too!"

"No! You are not starting a childish argument with me!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"TYLER!"

After she calmed down, they had a more serious discussion, which Tyler eagerly "allowed" to happen.

"Personally, I want to see what she wants," he replied.

She frowned at him. "Are you sure?" she asked.

He shrugged. "She didn't look like she wanted to be in the Nether in the first place and without her usual team, too."

"Her team?"

"Yes. She's part of a villain team called the Undersiders. Small time thieves and escape artists."

"... And you want to help a villain?"

"Why not? The mercenaries are Coil's shtick, and if I had a guess, then I'm going to say that she was forced into villainy."

Amy sighed.

Tyler was … odd. He often said things that were prophetic, which only boosted the selfless martyring big brother image that most of the orphans seemed to have of him. Like the time he predicted that the Protectorate wouldn't be able to advance despite his help. Or the time he predicted the arrival of Lung, not by name but certainly by description. Or the time time when it was just him and her in this place when it used to be much smaller and how he predicted that New Wave was going to happen and subsequently assassination of Fleur.

He just knew too many things, and Amy half suspected that knowing things was part of his power.

So if he outright said that's what he thought was the case…

"... Is she going to be any trouble?" she asked, because that's all she could ask in a situation like this. If what Tyler alluded was true, then they had a victim on their hand, and a victim was someone orphans here could relate to.

"Ehhh…"

Most likely not, then.

"Fine. We'll ask her."

And ask her, they did.

Lisa's nodded as fast as she could.

And so, despite Amy's misgivings, the Underground Orphanage gained another orphan.

Chapter 1.6

His name was Michael.

He was a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight, and have been for the last two years. He was proud of how far he'd come since joining.

And today, he was going to take another step forward.

Michael looked around and saw no one around him as far as his eyes could see.

Perfect.

He pulled out a pistol from within his jacket and aimed it down the alley. He had just seen the most feared rogue enter this alley, but Michael knew that this alley was a dead end. He certainly didn't see the pipsqueak with any of his famed blue and white armor, so one good hit over the heart would put him down!

Kaiser would praise him!

With that plan(?) in his mind, Michael took cautious steps into the dark alley.

He made sure to make no sound as he moved deeper into the alley. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then … he saw nothing.

"Huh?" he muttered as he stared forward.

There, on the other side of the alley, was the brick wall that made this alley a dead end.

But there was no Pickaxe or anything weird.

… Except for a door that wasn't there before.

"Weird," he muttered to himself as he walked towards the door, pistol still in hand and pointing forward. It was one of the key details that made him different from the regular gangsters. He was a trained man, trained by none other than Krieg himself. Professionalism, Krieg stressed, was how the Empire operated.

Michael made sure to live up to those words. So, he kept his hands forwards and his steps calm and cautious.

…

Still nothing.

He was soon right next to the door, and he opened it, his pistol still pointing forward. He briefly debated about entering the proverbial lion's den. After a quick mental debate with himself, he dove in, rolling forward and then coming to a stop on his one knee.

How cool was he?!

… No one and nothing in this dark room.

Except for an ominous black and purple portal.

He gulped.

He heard about this before.

Kaiser led a crusade against Pickaxe years ago because of information provided to him by other villains who wanted Pickaxe gone.

This … this must be it. The portal to Pickaxe's home.

Resolving himself, Michael leaped in, completely forgetting the horror stories the white supremacist veterans warned him about.

He came out of the other side in a tumble and saw a dark tunnel.

No, he saw a giant underground chasm.

"Wow…" he muttered to himself.

He looked around. Where was Pickaxe…?

His eyes widened as he saw the hated enemy of the Empire far across from him in the chasm. He was heading towards one of the openings in the cavern walls.

No! He wouldn't lose him. Not now!

Michael drew his pistol and aimed-.

He screamed as something sharp and painful lodged itself into his shoulder. He whirled around.

And paled.

Standing between him and the portal was a … skeleton archer?!

His eyes widened as two more skeleton archers came around the portal's frame.

"F.u.c.k f.u.c.k f.u.c.k!" he shouted as he held his pistol up and fired.

The skeleton archer that shot him buckled under the hail of bullets, jerking left and right as its bones crushed under the force of the bullet. But for every bullet that hit, two missed.

And so when the bullets ran out and Michael's pistol clicked uselessly, the skeleton archer was still alive.

The other two skeleton archers weren't still when Michale wasn't shooting. They nocked their arrows as his clip ran dry and when he stared in horror at them, they fired. The arrows flew the short distance and lodged themselves in Michael's chest. The two quiet thumps pushed him back and then he backpedaled more.

He stared down at his chest, uncomprehending of the death he was so close to. Whimpering and gurgling at the same time, he looked up only for his head to be pulled back by a cold hand, and Michael came face to face with an upside down zombie.

"AAAHHH-!"

Crack. Rip.

His throat gurgled after the zombie had its bite, and as Michael collapsed bonelessly to the ground, more zombies appeared from the abyss around him.

'Save me, God!' he cried ineffectually to the figure of his childhood worship, but God was nowhere near this damned place.

Zombies ripped him apart bit by bit, and somehow, he lived through it all. Only when he was thoroughly brutalized and nitpicked by the denizens of this hell did he get his rest.

But not for long.

His mind, now trapped in his mind and unable to escape to either the true hell or heaven, watched in horror as his broken body lurched and moved on its own. It found its footing and stood up, swaying from side to side.

"Arrgghhh…." his mouth m.o.a.ned.

And Michael knew what he was now.

He was a zombie.

Chapter 1.7 Stormtiger

On a calm night like this, Johnny would have preferred to sit around with his friends and drink or take a dive into the fighting rings to spice up the night. Unfortunately, as calm as the night appeared it was anything but calm.

One of Krieg's mooks being trained to become something more than a dumb shit was seen hounding after Pickaxe's shadow.

"Another one."

Instead of chasing after him, the first thing Stormtiger did was to call Hookwolf. Because of how the Empire's hierarchy worked, he couldn't directly call Kaiser. It was a whole load of the honor system and organization loyalty worked. Personally, Stormtiger didn't believe in that bullshit, but he went through the steps. If it didn't, then Kaiser would raise shit about it.

So after allowing Hookwolf to hear what he heard, he was waiting for a response.

Goddamnit if this didn't feel like the bureaucracy they were supposed to hate.

Hookwolf groaned on the other side of the line. "Which one did he go through? No, where was the bastard seen?"

Calling the idiot mook "bastard" was right. If Pickaxe got mad because of that one mook and turned his ire on the Empire again, then everyone would be put through hell because one guy who hadn't learned enough about the cape history and scene couldn't keep his ego in his pants.

Because, honestly, Johnny did not want to fight Pickaxe again.

The style of combat Pickaxe used bastardized combat. There was no honor in it, only victory and efficiency. If it wasn't for Othala who joined right after Pickaxe backed off, then he would still limp from one of those "withering" and poison arrows Pickaxe rained down. In fact, the withering arrows were so great at killing people that when Pickaxe saw him three months ago, the first time the two met since the end of the war, Pickaxe was surprised to see him.

'Honestly thought you died,' Pickaxe had said.

��� He digressed.

The question of the night was "how to respond to this crisis?" because that's what this was: a crisis.

As Hookwolf hung up on him and he was left to stew to himself, Johnny wondered if the Empire would be fighting Pickaxe again. Considering what was at stake, Johnny might ditch the sinking ship for fertile lands elsewhere.

"Uhh, boss?"

He looked up from his couch.

Standing underneath the doorway to his "office" was one of his lieutenants. Just like he was Hookwolf's lieutenant and Hookwolf was Kaiser's lieutenant, he had his own lieutenant to help him organize the loud and rancorous bunch that was the pit fighters.

"What?" he asked without any heat to his usual demand.

"Why's everyone so worried?"

Stormtiger frowned. Right, Terry here wasn't part of the Empire back then or part of the gang or cape scene.

"Look… uhh, what do you know about Pickaxe?" he asked.

Terry frowned. "Nothin' much, boss. Just that he's the strongest rogue in this city?"

Stormtiger scoffed. "More like all of New England."

"No way."

"He gutted us, Terry," he growled. "I would be a cripple right now if it wasn't for Othala."

"Really?"

"Yes. The bastard has these arrows. Some of them slow you, make you float, but the ones you have to watch out for are the green and black ones. Those are poisons."

"He breaks the unwritten rules?!"

.. Again, Terry was not part of the Empire back in those days. He had to give the lieutenant some slack.

"Kaiser decided to break it first, going after Pickaxe's home. We paid for that stupid decision."

It wasn't something he openly talked about to others, not even Brad when he was in his mood and cussing out Kaiser nor Cricket when she was hissing and grumbling about the lack of pit fights because of Kaiser's orders to remain low whenever Pickaxe was sighted.

But Terry… Johnny trusted Terry. He was a good right hand man, and it would suck for him to lose his lieutenant. Like legit, he was giving lots of bonuses and shit to Terry just to keep the useful lieutenant in his control, because hot damn the man had enough charisma to sway the pit fighters. F.u.c.k, if he didn't have his power, then Stormtiger knew that he would be among the fighters Terry smooth-talked.

"What happened?"

"Before we, Hookwolf, Cricket, and me, joined the Empire, Empire lost like five capes and several hundred mooks like you. After I joined, they lost another five or so and even more mooks."

Terry stared in fascinated horror. "And Pickaxe did this … alone?"

"Yeah. Let me put it to you this way: Krieg still has nightmares about the ring of metric tons of TNT."

Terry blinked. "Metric… tons?"

"I don't know much details about what happened there, just that Pickaxe loves to use lots of explosives."

"He didn't use any explosives when he was fighting the Empire in the city?"

Stormtiger barked out a laugh. "That would have gotten the PRT on his case far more than us! No, the kid's smarter than that. Way too f.u.c.k.i.n.g smart."

"... Is he gonna attack us?"

"No one knows, Terry. No one knows what the bastard thinks."

"Not even the PRT?"

Johnny frowned. "What about the PRT?"

"I mean, one of our guys saw Armsmaster and Pickaxe exchanging shit."

Stormtiger's eyes widened and he leaned forward.

"Tell me more."

Chapter 1.8 Parian

She frowned as he entered her shop.

Clad in his yellow overalls, a simple domino mask over his upper face, and a pickaxe slung over his shoulder, he was the infamous "rogue" Pickaxe.

"What are you here for, Pickaxe?" she asked aggressively. She didn't growl because it would be unladylike. Instead, she sneered underneath her mask and made sure to let him know her disdain of him.

Pickaxe just shrugged. "The usual," he replied easily as if he hadn't heard her tone. "How have you been?" he asked as he dropped a small suitcase. He slid it over to her over the counter, and she snatched it off of it. She opened it briefly to confirm that there were cash in there before stashing it just above her safe.

"Good until you came by," she replied. Like all other times before this, she would simply donate the money he's giving her to some charity or something.

"I'll take that, I suppose," he replied without looking at her. She could see him making mental notes while looking over her shop.

Pickaxe had come by after the first month of her open business as a rogue cape. She thought that being in the same city as a powerful rogue like Pickaxe would help smooth things over. Instead, she received wary looks and no endors.e.m.e.nts. By now, most of her business came from outside of the city.

The local gangs were wary of touching her and the other rogues, though, which was a good thing. Everyone was under the impression that all rogues within the city of Brockton Bay were under the protection of Pickaxe.

It was an assumption she came to loathe. Too many tourists came by her shop wanting to meet Pickaxe or purchasing Pickaxe-related goods, which she did have and sell until she realized just how much of her own efforts was ignored. Under Pickaxe's umbrella of protection, she was just a no-name rogue manning a shop "in his name," whether this was true or not. As far as the tourists were concerned, she was part of a non-existent "rogue alliance" that was floating around as rumor on the internet.

She wasn't Parian the rogue cape, trying to show the world her own designs for fashion.

She wasn't Parian the rogue cape, trying to make a living to support her own college studies.

She was just another rogue being "protected" by Pickaxe.

And she hated that.

It went against the very idea of what was she trying to accomplish as a cape. It irked her so bad that she began to give away Pickaxe's support money.

At first, she was guilty about it. But as time passed on and she remained a "rogue under Pickaxe," the guilt was gone and replaced with a shimmering anger.

Pickaxe, completely unaware of her own hostility or willfully ignorant of it, continued to give her money to "support" herself.

No. She wasn't going to rely on others.

Even when her budgets were showing deficits.

She was going to become her own woman.

Even when it was clear that she had used Pickaxe in the first place to grow her business to its current size.

She … would make her own path.

And so, she glared behind her mask at Pickaxe, who was completely ignorant of her thoughts, because as long as he remained the "representative" of all of the Brockton Bay's rogues, she would never be able to move out of his shadow.

"How have the new line of designs been selling?" he asked casually. She knew that he was trying to make conversation with her.

She begrudgingly let him start it. "Not as good as I hoped. Your idea about armor fabric wasn't selling as well as I hoped because I'm not the only one who's selling stuff like that," she replied. "The quality of fabrics I can get just don't match up to tinker materials."

"Hmm. What if I got you some of that fabric?"

She froze.

… Did he just -?

"I can stop by northern Boston to see Tailorsmith. Maybe get him to come by sometime to work things out with you."

Her hands clenched into fists. "You… really don't get it, do you?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged. "Just trying to help."

After that, he left, leaving her to stew in her own anger, guilt, and self-hatred.

Chapter 1.9 Xueshi

He had been asked this question many times in the past.

"Are you Chinese?"

He would reply, "No." This was because he was not Chinese, which was a term everyone outside of China to describe the Han Chinese. He was a Hui. Hui deferred from the Han in that they were Muslim and thus followed many doctrine and customs of the Islamic laws.

They were also one of the many persecuted groups within the CUI as of late.

Since the rise of Yangban in the 1990s and then the cementing of their power in the early 2000s within Chinese Union-Imperial, they used their power granted to them by the very royal family they put on the throne to persecute for the flimsiest of whims and impress minority capes into their ranks.

This was not always the case, but something happened in the early days of Yangban that led the cape intelligence/black ops organization into persecuting minorities.

From what Xueshi heard, many Hui were fleeing China, and the Yangban were chasing them across borders, sparking tensions with China's neighbors. But those were details he was only marginally interested in. It had no place when he needed to act.

Because today, he heard from his men that one of Empire's low-level men entered Pickaxe's portal with a gun.

It was the perfect time to strike!

… Or he would have if he didn't have to watch out for his competitors.

Xueshi knew that despite his own efforts, he was considered only equal to Lung, the half-Japanese gang lord who took over the Shantytown's Asian gangs. He couldn't simply engage the Empire without looking over his shoulder to see what Lung was doing. Lung was a strong parahuman despite his lack of strategic and tactical understanding beyond his immediate neighborhood. Any engagement with him would almost always lead to a loss for Xueshi.

So the best way to minimize losses was to not engage Lung in the first place, and to do that, he had to be very careful about how he was going to attack the Empire.

Xueshi and the Triad in America ruled the Trainyard. Empire contested the Docks with the PRT while only ruling the poorer western suburbs. Despite what they liked to say, PRT only marginally controlled the Downtown; their true territory lay within Boardwalk and the street's immediate surroundings. The true ruler of Downtown was Pickaxe, and everyone in Brockton Bay knew this. Lung and his ABB ruled the Shantytown, and did so with an iron grip on its populace.

If Xueshi attempted to beat down the Empire for the Triad's expansion in Brockton Bay, then the half-Japanese mongrel would try - and most likely succeed - in attacking his flank. In fact, Xueshi was sure that Lung would intervene right when Xueshi himself overextended for even a little bit, and Lung would use that opportunity to kick both Xueshi and Empire out of the Docks, taking the territory for himself.

Oh, let's not forget Pickaxe himself. Despite what the PRT thought and said to the public, Xueshi knew better. He knew exactly how much of PRT ENE was in Pickaxe's pockets. He couldn't even use this information either, not willy nilly and without support anyway.

BAM

"B-Boss! We got intruders! Capes!" one of his lieutenants shouted hurriedly as he stumbled into his throne room.

Xueshi frowned as he stood up. "Who is it?!" he demanded angrily.

A faint buzzing sound began to hum in the background. Some kind of sound-based attack?

It was also at this point that Xueshi began to hear some screams from outside. There was some deep agony and terror mixed among them. Whoever this was, they were …!

Could it be Lung with a new recruit?

With a mental snap, a projection came to life at his call. A horned lion with hooves gracefully emerged from his shadows. And another. Then another. Finally, the last of his five horned lions emerged.

"Find the intruder," he growled. "Bring them to me!"

His lieutenant jumped out of the way as his five great horned lions rushed out of the throne room and outside.

That … proved to be a mistake.

As soon as the double doors opened, a horde of insects streamed in, and it was here that the faint buzzing Xueshi had been hearing so far blasted into a full out locust swarm thunder.

"GAAHHH!!!" he screamed as the insect horde dove at him, covering his vision, and then his face, mouth, neck, hair. He choked on the bugs and gagged as their spiny legs and incisors cut him all over the place, including inside of his mouth. He swatted them away frantically but it was no use. He dove to the floor and rolled. The bugs squashed as he rolled around, but even more covered him.

It was too much for him. He just curled up and waited for the storm to pass.

Click. Clack.

The buzzing stopped, and the sound of heels clicking against the floor grew louder. Slowly, Xueshi looked up from where he had been curled up, and did so just in time to see someone walk into his room.

It was a woman, a woman with pitch black costume and two yellow lenses.

"Xueshi… was it?" she asked.

Xueshit gulped. His projections have been popped already, he realized. He was defenseless.

A single spider crawled up to his face.

"That… is a black widow spider."

He froze.

"You understand then," she coo'ed. "You see, I want things and you will deliver them."

"O-Of course!" he squeaked. Hell, if she just wanted some of his products, then he was fine with that just as long as she stayed the f.u.c.k away from him!

"Hmm… how about this? You and your gang will leave the Docks."

His eyes widened but he didn't speak at all. The black widow spider on his face made sure to let him know that it was there.

"And you will leave behind all of your liquid cash. Don't think I don't know where they are in this base."

"W-Would that be all?"

"Hmm… Yes-"

"GAHHH!" Clatter.

Xueshi jumped in surprise and looked at his lieutenant who made the scream. He was holding his hands delicately and Xueshi saw that it had a lot of bites on it.

And on the ground was a gun.

"No shooting, Mr. Yi." She turned back to him. "You understand, yes?"

Xueshi watched as his lieutenant whimpered, terror agonizingly clear on his face.

"Y-Yes." He knew he wouldn't survive bites like that-.

"Good. Take your wingman to the hospital. I only bit him with none venomous insects, just painful as hell."

Xueshi wasted no time. He grabbed Yi and ran, and they left the base to the cacophony of a million buzzing wings.