Dr. Julius Ludwig, better known as Medic, considered himself the smartest man to ever exist in...
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Let's Go Practice Medicine (Worm/TF2)
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Inspection 1.1
The8BitzySpider
Not too sore, are you?
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Dr. Julius Ludwig, better known as Medic, considered himself the smartest man to ever exist in the field of medicine.
Honestly, who could possibly be his competitor for the title? Who else could have invented the Medi Gun? What about the Übercharge? Did someone else learn how to remove an entire skeleton from a patient without killing him while Medic wasn't looking?
Medic certainly thought not. Few recognized his achievements, but Medic's motive for pursuing the secrets of medicine was never the glory or accolades. No, knowledge and the opportunity to apply it was all the reward Medic needed.
It rankled him immensely to think of how his country's government tried to limit his progress. They claimed the stripping of his medical license was because of his disregard for "ethics," but Medic knew that those academic idiots were simply jealous of his intellect. Damned fools probably couldn't tell the difference between Agammaglobulinemia and Immunoglobulin G.
Alas, the lesser scholars and the government of Germany did not take kindly to him continuing his research without his medical license, but what did they expect him to do? Throw away years of progress just because he no longer had a cheap plastic card? Bah!
The warrant for his arrest and reputation as a "mad" scientist was inconvenient for further research, but it did eventually lead him to meet the company he currently keeps, and they were honestly not as bad as he would have thought. Engineer might not have a passion for medicine, but Medic can respect his intelligence and drive for progress in his field. Heavy was a surprisingly wise conversation partner and was always eager to assist Medic with experiments that run a bit… messy. The others could be an annoyance at times (mostly Scout), but Medic could appreciate the talent they possessed in their professions.
A bigger lab and more eager test subjects would have been nice, yes, but all things considered, Medic couldn't ask for much more from his situation. His coworkers were the reliable sort, he didn't have to worry about pesky rules and regulations, and he could practice all the science his heart desires. What was there to dislike?
Well, if there was one thing Medic could do without, it was being shot at.
"Doktor! Let's go!" Heavy shouted, his massive voice reverberating throughout the hallway, trumping even the sound of gunfire behind Medic as he ran for his life.
Yes, being shot at wasn't ideal, but it was a common enough occurrence for he and his fellow mercenaries that they barely even registered that they were in danger anymore. Logically Medic understood that yes, that guard that rounded the corner behind him with an assault rifle could put a bullet in his brain and leave him no longer able to do science, but he found himself in such a situation often enough that he wasn't too worried. Besides, Sniper already killed him, so what was there to worry about?
Medic rushed past Sniper and Heavy, who were giving supporting fire to hold off the base's guards, and into the evacuation room where Engineer had built his teleporter. There, the rest of his fellow mercenaries were waiting for him inside.
"Do we have it?" Medic asked.
"Yup, got the folder thingy right here!" Scout said as he flourished a thin manilla folder like it's a Nobel Prize. "Just waiting on overalls here to finish… whatever he's doing."
"I'm calibrating the servos and directional mapping to make sure whoever uses it gets sent back to base," Engineer responded, not looking up from his teleporter. "If something's wrong, it could send you across the country if you're lucky, and to another dimension if you ain't."
The extraction plan for this particular mission was fairly simple all things considered. The shipment truck they all stowed away on to get into the facility was unlikely to be available as a getaway vehicle, so Engineer brought parts with him to build a teleporter on the fly in a secure and out-of-the-way part of the facility. They were at a dead end, so the guards were likely to try and wait them out, unaware they were making an escape. Demoman would prime the entire room to explode after they departed, ensuring that it would be impossible to follow them.
"Yes, very scary, but can you hurry it up? I got a hot date tonight," Scout said.
Spy scoffed. "With who? Your right palm and a jar of lubricant?"
"Fuck off, Spy," Scout said, lacking any heat. He and Spy have gotten so used to their banter that nothing they said to each other was ever taken seriously.
"Alright, got 'er done," Engineer said, standing up and giving Medic a slap on the shoulder as he did. "Ladies first."
Medic rolled his eyes good-naturedly before stepping onto the teleporter pad. However, just as he does so, several things happened.
From the bathroom of the storage room they were in, a guard jumped out with a shout, pistol raised and ready to fire. Why this man had bided his time in the bathroom for so long, no one could say. Why had he not jumped out when it was only Engineer in the room and he was distracted with building the teleporter? Why did he announce his presence with a battle cry?
Unfortunately to those with a curious mind, these questions died with the foolish guard, as Spy was quick as ever on the draw and shot the guard once in the head before he could take aim.
Spy did not kill the guard, however, before he could fire. Luckily, the shot went wide and didn't hit anybody. Unluckily, the bullet hit the teleporter at precisely the area where the Engineer was just working.
The teleporter began to shake, spark, and screech ominously, but Medic was too late to stop himself from putting his foot down on the teleporter. In the blink of an eye, the facility room, the teleporter, and the mercenaries were all gone, replaced with an alleyway at night.
Frantically, Medic whirled around and surveyed his surroundings. The alley he was standing in was filthy, and the sky was now dark even though it was daytime back at the facility.
Thinking quickly, Medic tried to recall what the Engineer had said about his calibrations. If something went wrong, the user would either be transported to another part of the world, which was manageable, if inconvenient, or another dimension entirely, which was… less manageable.
Medic ran out of the alleyway, desperate to confirm one or the other as soon as possible. Upon reaching the street outside, he took note of the environment. Medic had assumed the alleyway was dirty because that was how alleyways typically were, but the rest of the city didn't seem to be in any better shape. The buildings, cars, and road all looked well-used and in need of renovation.
Medic looked up and down the street, eyes scanning for anything useful. Store with signs in an Asian language, odd-looking cars, a hobo warily eyeing him from a curb on the other side of the road… Aha! A red newspaper dispenser. Wonderful.
Rushing over, Medic leaned down and scanned the contents of the front page through the glass. The "Brockton Bay Times" was written in English and described a recent heist a group known as the "Undersiders" had done in the early morning of the day before at a local casino. At the top of the page, the date read April 10th, 2011. Not September of 1968.
Medic swore under his breath. Either Engineer's teleporter transported him over 40 years into the future, or Medic was in an alternate dimension.
Medic took a moment to calm his mind. Panic would get him nowhere. Now that he had assessed his situation, he needed to decide on a course of action. Was there any way for him to get home? No, not really. Perhaps Engineer could figure out a way to track him, but that seemed unlikely, even for someone of Engineer's intellect. Could Medic figure out a way home himself? Well, he certainly wouldn't be able to build his own way home… but maybe the locals could help? Maybe in the 40-odd years of scientific progress, the denizens of this world have mastered dimensional travel?
A realization struck Medic like a thunderbolt. 40 years. 40 whole years of science and progress. What knowledge had the scientists of this world acquired that was unavailable to him back home? Medic might have been the best and most intelligent doctor in the field of medicine, but 40 years was enough time for even a trained monkey to have discovered a thing or two, much less educated doctors. How could Medic use the knowledge of this world to advance his studies? All Medic needed was a library or university to begin his research.
Yes… yes! That would be wonderful! Medic could hardly contain his excitement as he finalized his plan. He would miss his allies back home, but he could see about making his way back to them at a later date. Science, however, waits for no man!
Medic was interrupted, however, when he heard the great roar of a beast. Spinning around, Medic spotted flashing orange light. Fire.
Had Pyro somehow followed him? Were the rest of his allies here? What was that roaring noise?
Medic shook his head. He wouldn't find those answers standing around like a simpleton. Pyro might require aid. He took a moment to assess himself. Medi Gun? Check. Bonesaw? Check. Syringe gun? There wasn't any ammunition remaining but check. Sandwich in his coat pocket that he swiped from Heavy's lunchbox when he wasn't looking? Check.
Medic reached behind him and flipped the switch on his Medi Gun, causing his device to come to life with a whirl and a glow. Lowly, he chuckled to himself.
It was time to go practice medicine.
Honestly, who could possibly be his competitor for the title? Who else could have invented the Medi Gun? What about the Übercharge? Did someone else learn how to remove an entire skeleton from a patient without killing him while Medic wasn't looking?
Medic certainly thought not. Few recognized his achievements, but Medic's motive for pursuing the secrets of medicine was never the glory or accolades. No, knowledge and the opportunity to apply it was all the reward Medic needed.
It rankled him immensely to think of how his country's government tried to limit his progress. They claimed the stripping of his medical license was because of his disregard for "ethics," but Medic knew that those academic idiots were simply jealous of his intellect. Damned fools probably couldn't tell the difference between Agammaglobulinemia and Immunoglobulin G.
Alas, the lesser scholars and the government of Germany did not take kindly to him continuing his research without his medical license, but what did they expect him to do? Throw away years of progress just because he no longer had a cheap plastic card? Bah!
The warrant for his arrest and reputation as a "mad" scientist was inconvenient for further research, but it did eventually lead him to meet the company he currently keeps, and they were honestly not as bad as he would have thought. Engineer might not have a passion for medicine, but Medic can respect his intelligence and drive for progress in his field. Heavy was a surprisingly wise conversation partner and was always eager to assist Medic with experiments that run a bit… messy. The others could be an annoyance at times (mostly Scout), but Medic could appreciate the talent they possessed in their professions.
A bigger lab and more eager test subjects would have been nice, yes, but all things considered, Medic couldn't ask for much more from his situation. His coworkers were the reliable sort, he didn't have to worry about pesky rules and regulations, and he could practice all the science his heart desires. What was there to dislike?
Well, if there was one thing Medic could do without, it was being shot at.
"Doktor! Let's go!" Heavy shouted, his massive voice reverberating throughout the hallway, trumping even the sound of gunfire behind Medic as he ran for his life.
Yes, being shot at wasn't ideal, but it was a common enough occurrence for he and his fellow mercenaries that they barely even registered that they were in danger anymore. Logically Medic understood that yes, that guard that rounded the corner behind him with an assault rifle could put a bullet in his brain and leave him no longer able to do science, but he found himself in such a situation often enough that he wasn't too worried. Besides, Sniper already killed him, so what was there to worry about?
Medic rushed past Sniper and Heavy, who were giving supporting fire to hold off the base's guards, and into the evacuation room where Engineer had built his teleporter. There, the rest of his fellow mercenaries were waiting for him inside.
"Do we have it?" Medic asked.
"Yup, got the folder thingy right here!" Scout said as he flourished a thin manilla folder like it's a Nobel Prize. "Just waiting on overalls here to finish… whatever he's doing."
"I'm calibrating the servos and directional mapping to make sure whoever uses it gets sent back to base," Engineer responded, not looking up from his teleporter. "If something's wrong, it could send you across the country if you're lucky, and to another dimension if you ain't."
The extraction plan for this particular mission was fairly simple all things considered. The shipment truck they all stowed away on to get into the facility was unlikely to be available as a getaway vehicle, so Engineer brought parts with him to build a teleporter on the fly in a secure and out-of-the-way part of the facility. They were at a dead end, so the guards were likely to try and wait them out, unaware they were making an escape. Demoman would prime the entire room to explode after they departed, ensuring that it would be impossible to follow them.
"Yes, very scary, but can you hurry it up? I got a hot date tonight," Scout said.
Spy scoffed. "With who? Your right palm and a jar of lubricant?"
"Fuck off, Spy," Scout said, lacking any heat. He and Spy have gotten so used to their banter that nothing they said to each other was ever taken seriously.
"Alright, got 'er done," Engineer said, standing up and giving Medic a slap on the shoulder as he did. "Ladies first."
Medic rolled his eyes good-naturedly before stepping onto the teleporter pad. However, just as he does so, several things happened.
From the bathroom of the storage room they were in, a guard jumped out with a shout, pistol raised and ready to fire. Why this man had bided his time in the bathroom for so long, no one could say. Why had he not jumped out when it was only Engineer in the room and he was distracted with building the teleporter? Why did he announce his presence with a battle cry?
Unfortunately to those with a curious mind, these questions died with the foolish guard, as Spy was quick as ever on the draw and shot the guard once in the head before he could take aim.
Spy did not kill the guard, however, before he could fire. Luckily, the shot went wide and didn't hit anybody. Unluckily, the bullet hit the teleporter at precisely the area where the Engineer was just working.
The teleporter began to shake, spark, and screech ominously, but Medic was too late to stop himself from putting his foot down on the teleporter. In the blink of an eye, the facility room, the teleporter, and the mercenaries were all gone, replaced with an alleyway at night.
Frantically, Medic whirled around and surveyed his surroundings. The alley he was standing in was filthy, and the sky was now dark even though it was daytime back at the facility.
Thinking quickly, Medic tried to recall what the Engineer had said about his calibrations. If something went wrong, the user would either be transported to another part of the world, which was manageable, if inconvenient, or another dimension entirely, which was… less manageable.
Medic ran out of the alleyway, desperate to confirm one or the other as soon as possible. Upon reaching the street outside, he took note of the environment. Medic had assumed the alleyway was dirty because that was how alleyways typically were, but the rest of the city didn't seem to be in any better shape. The buildings, cars, and road all looked well-used and in need of renovation.
Medic looked up and down the street, eyes scanning for anything useful. Store with signs in an Asian language, odd-looking cars, a hobo warily eyeing him from a curb on the other side of the road… Aha! A red newspaper dispenser. Wonderful.
Rushing over, Medic leaned down and scanned the contents of the front page through the glass. The "Brockton Bay Times" was written in English and described a recent heist a group known as the "Undersiders" had done in the early morning of the day before at a local casino. At the top of the page, the date read April 10th, 2011. Not September of 1968.
Medic swore under his breath. Either Engineer's teleporter transported him over 40 years into the future, or Medic was in an alternate dimension.
Medic took a moment to calm his mind. Panic would get him nowhere. Now that he had assessed his situation, he needed to decide on a course of action. Was there any way for him to get home? No, not really. Perhaps Engineer could figure out a way to track him, but that seemed unlikely, even for someone of Engineer's intellect. Could Medic figure out a way home himself? Well, he certainly wouldn't be able to build his own way home… but maybe the locals could help? Maybe in the 40-odd years of scientific progress, the denizens of this world have mastered dimensional travel?
A realization struck Medic like a thunderbolt. 40 years. 40 whole years of science and progress. What knowledge had the scientists of this world acquired that was unavailable to him back home? Medic might have been the best and most intelligent doctor in the field of medicine, but 40 years was enough time for even a trained monkey to have discovered a thing or two, much less educated doctors. How could Medic use the knowledge of this world to advance his studies? All Medic needed was a library or university to begin his research.
Yes… yes! That would be wonderful! Medic could hardly contain his excitement as he finalized his plan. He would miss his allies back home, but he could see about making his way back to them at a later date. Science, however, waits for no man!
Medic was interrupted, however, when he heard the great roar of a beast. Spinning around, Medic spotted flashing orange light. Fire.
Had Pyro somehow followed him? Were the rest of his allies here? What was that roaring noise?
Medic shook his head. He wouldn't find those answers standing around like a simpleton. Pyro might require aid. He took a moment to assess himself. Medi Gun? Check. Bonesaw? Check. Syringe gun? There wasn't any ammunition remaining but check. Sandwich in his coat pocket that he swiped from Heavy's lunchbox when he wasn't looking? Check.
Medic reached behind him and flipped the switch on his Medi Gun, causing his device to come to life with a whirl and a glow. Lowly, he chuckled to himself.
It was time to go practice medicine.
Inspection 1.2
The8BitzySpider
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2023
- Messages
- 447
- Likes received
- 18,167
Taylor wondered what thought process had led to her trying to attack a giant, angry fire dragon.
Oh sure, Taylor knew what she was feeling. She felt angry. She felt useless. She felt like she had to do whatever it took to stop feeling angry and useless. She felt like she needed escape. But fuck, what was she thinking?
With hindsight, Taylor realized that's exactly the problem: She wasn't thinking. Her decision to accelerate her plan of going out on patrol wasn't because of any logical reason, it was made because she felt like she had to.
And when Taylor realized Lung was trying to climb his way on top of the building she was also on, she had never regretted a decision more.
As soon as Lung started to lift himself up onto the roof, Taylor tried to use her pepper spray to stop him, but it had only blinded him rather than stopped him entirely. Taylor knew the same trick wouldn't work twice, so she had to get off the roof before Lung figured out where she was. He was blind, but there was nothing stopping him from washing the entire roof with flames.
Taylor turned her back to Lung, mind racing to find a way off the roof, but while her back was turned, Lung launched a fireball at her from where he was trying to haul himself up. Taylor was alerted to this only by a flash of light behind her and was knocked onto her stomach. It wasn't enough to launch her off the roof, and it hadn't set her costume or hair on fire, but Taylor was sure she wouldn't be so lucky twice.
Taylor glanced at the fire escape next to her. She briefly entertained using it to get away, but that would have been too slow and too loud. If Lung could hear her stepping on gravel from down on the street, there was no question he would be able to hear her clang down the metal stairs.
Below the fire escape, though, Taylor spotted an open dumpster with several trash bags in it. It was several stories down… but maybe it could break her fall?
Well, it was that or getting barbequed by a dragon, so Taylor decided to take her chances.
Thankfully for her, the dumpster mostly broke her fall. It also broke, or at least injured, her leg, resulting in her needing to hobble out of the alleyway and onto the main street. Maybe someone would come help her? A hero responding to the fight? Lung wasn't exactly quiet, so surely someone had called 911.
Taylor chanced a glance over her shoulder. Lung had finally gotten onto the roof, but apparently Taylor's fall was loud enough for him to hear, because the dragon was staring right at her, snarling. Taylor hobbled faster.
"H-help!" she cried, sounding pitiful even to her. "Someone help! Please!"
Someone must've been looking out for Taylor, because a man sprinted around a block. The man wore a pure white medical coat with a red cross on both shoulders. Combat boots and plain brown pants adorned his legs and feet. Thick, red rubber gloves were on both of his hands, which were holding some kind of blaster device. The gun was hooked up to another device on his back, and both were whirring with electricity and shining red light. Was he a Tinker? Did his gun have enough firepower to stop Lung?
The thing that caught Taylor's eye the most, however, was the man's face. Rather than a mask, the man wore only a pair of old looking glasses and a wide grin. Why did he not have a mask? Was he not a cape? Had he lived somewhere nearby and rushed out to help her in such a rush that he had forgotten?
"Are you injured?" the man asked in a thick German accent. Taylor felt her heart skip a beat. Oh shit, was he with the Empire?
Taylor briefly considered refuting the man, but she was in desperate need of help and couldn't afford to be picky. "Yes!" she responded.
The man nodded and raised his gun to aim it at Taylor. Taylor raised her arms up to defend herself and tried to cry out, but before she could, a red beam erupted from the blaster, hitting her square in the chest. As soon as it did, the throbbing in her leg was washed away. Scratches and bruises she hadn't even noticed thanks to the adrenaline also faded, leaving Taylor feeling completely healthy after just a few seconds.
Well, Taylor supposed that explained the medical coat.
"Woah! Thanks a lot!" Taylor said before remembering that she was still being chased. "Wait, we need to get out of here now!"
As soon as she finished speaking, Taylor heard a great thud and spun around. Several feet behind her, Lung had created a crater in the middle of the street from where he jumped down from the roof. His eyes were swollen and unlikely to still be working, but Taylor could swear Lung looked her right in the eyes as he snarled and began to approach her slowly and menacingly.
"What is that?" her savior asked, voice tinged with… awe? Or was it fear? Logic dictated the latter, but Taylor could have sworn she heard the former.
Taylor turned back to the man. "We need to get out of here," she said, beginning to panic. "Unless that blaster is also a laser gun?"
The cape shook his head with a scoff. "No, my Medi Gun isn't an actual gun, but I do have something better," he said with an even wider smile. "You're lucky I've been saving this one up for a while."
Before Taylor could ask him what he was talking about, the man aimed his blaster, apparently called a Medi Gun, at her again. The beam was the same red color, but instead of healing Taylor's wounds, the beam made Taylor feel alive.
It was as though a burst of energy had been sent throughout Taylor's body, supercharging every organ, muscle, and cell in her body. Taylor spun back around to face Lung, who had halted, now eyeing Taylor and her new friend with more suspicion. Taylor refused to give him a chance to act on this, and without thinking, she screamed out a battle cry and bolted toward the dragon at full speed.
Taylor immediately noticed she was much faster and cleared the distance between the two of them in only a couple seconds. Lung obviously didn't expect her to close the gap so quickly and was unable to react as Taylor delivered a sloppy right hook to his face.
The punch sent Lung reeling back, but Taylor refused to give him any room to recover. She kept up the offense, delivering several more punches to Lung's face. After half a dozen strikes, Lung stopped trying to get up.
Suddenly, Taylor felt the energy leave, knocking all the wind out of her sails in an instant. She immediately took several steps back. Holy fuck, did she just punch Lung in the face? And win?
She wheeled around to face her ally, who had followed after her but kept a safe distance. "What the fuck was that!" she cried.
"That, my young friend, was the Übercharge!" he explained, immensely proud of himself. "As you can see, it powers up an individual immensely, if only for a couple of seconds. I used to need to implant a device on the patient's heart for it to work, but that's no longer necessary for my newest version."
Taylor was stunned and jealous. Being able to build a device that can both heal and give someone a Brute power is so powerful it's not even fair. Taylor was starting to feel even more inadequate about her own powers. Compared to this guy and Lung, who would ever take something as lame as bug control seriously?
"Now then, what can you tell me about this particular creature?" the man asked. As he did, he approached Lung's downed form, a syringe in his right hand. The needle must've been made of some pretty sturdy stuff, because it was able to puncture Lung's scales without issue. The man then began to draw blood from Lung.
"Uh, well, that's Lung," Taylor said, lamely. "Are you new in town?"
He must be, because who in Brockton Bay hadn't heard of Lung?
The man scoffed. "Yes, you could say that," he replied. "By the way, do you happen to know where the nearest library or university is? That was what I intended to be my first stop, but it seems that'll have to wait until I'm done with this... specimen."
Taylor internally breathed a sigh of relief. If he was going to wait here with Lung for the authorities to arrive, she highly doubted he was a member of the Empire. "Uh, well there's a college and city library downtown," she answered. "Uh, what's your name?"
The man finished extracting blood from Lung and turned around to face her. "Wonderful, wonderful," the man said, pocketing the vial of blood. "That is very helpful, thank you. As for my name, you may call me Medic."
Taylor thought that name was a bit too simple and on the nose, but she couldn't really talk because she hadn't come up with any name at all. "Well I, uh, haven't come up with a name yet. This was my first night out, actually. Uh, thanks a lot for helping me, though. I would've died if you hadn't, so… yeah, thanks," Taylor said, cringing at her lame finish.
The man chuckled. Before he could respond, however, Taylor turned around to see a motorcycle screech to a halt in front of her. Taylor gasped as Armsmaster, her favorite hero in Brockton Bay, dismounted. She must have been so distracted that she hadn't heard him approach.
Armsmaster stood there holding his signature halberd for a moment as though waiting for something. After an awkward moment, he finally spoke. "You gonna fight me?" he asked.
Taylor shared a glance with Medic, who shrugged. Taylor guessed she would be the one doing the talking.
"Uh, no," she said. "We're heroes."
"You don't look like one, but you're telling the truth," Armsmaster said. He glanced at Medic. "Do you need a mask?"
Medic looked puzzled but shook his head. "No thank you," he said.
Armsmaster nodded before stepping between her and Medic to walk past them and approach Lung, who was beginning to stir. He pointed the tip of his halberd at him and fired something out of the point. Almost immediately after, Lung's draconic changes began to recede back into his body. After less than a minute, he was back to being a human.
"Hmm, so he's human?" Medic asked, perplexed. Did he assume Lung was a monster cape? Honestly, given what Medic had seen of him, Taylor could see how he assumed that.
"Yes, Lung is fully human," Armsmaster replied. "And he is wanted for a litany of crimes. He will likely be facing a virtual trial as soon as he is in Protectorate custody and has woken up from the tranquilizers I gave him. They'll stop him from regenerating and waking up early."
Taylor's blood ran cold. She had pumped a lot of insect venom into Lung before he started ramping up. If all of that was still in his system and he no longer had his regeneration, would that be enough to kill him?
"Wait a second!" Taylor almost shouted. "I had a lot of bugs bite him before the fight started, could he go into anaphylactic shock or something?"
Armsmaster froze before swearing under his breath. "Shit, maybe. I need to rush him to a hospital."
Medic cleared his throat. "Please, allow me," he said, raising his Medi Gun to fire a beam at Lung. Almost immediately, all of Lung's injuries began to vanish, including the marks Taylor had left on his face and his swollen eyes. After a moment, the beam halted, and Lung once again began to stir. Before he could do anything, however, Armsmaster shot him with the tranquilizer again.
"Thank you, that could've been bad. If you two hadn't warned me or done something, he could have died," Armsmaster said. "Now then, what exactly happened here? And what are your names?"
"Uh, well, I was patrolling the area. It's my first night out, and I don't exactly have a name yet," she said. "It's hard to come up with a name that's bug related but doesn't sound evil."
Armsmaster chuckled. "I became a hero early enough that many good names were still available. What about you, sir?"
"You may call me Medic. Pleased to meet you," Medic said, offering a handshake to Armsmaster.
Taylor mentally facepalmed. Why hadn't she offered to shake his hand? That was basic manners!
Armsmaster, however, eyed Medic warily after hearing his accent and did not take the offered hand. "Are you with the Empire?"
Medic's face scrunched up in confusion. He turned to give Taylor a questioning look.
"Oh yeah, I forgot you said you're new in town. They're one of the biggest gangs in the city, and they're nazis," Taylor explained.
If Taylor had any doubts that Medic was a part of the Empire they vanished when his face soured as though he had eaten something rotten. "Bah, fascists! They spoil the good nation of Germany! No, absolutely not!" he denied vehemently.
Armsmaster's posture relaxed. "Apologies for my presumption," he said, taking Medic's still outstretched hand, "but one can never be too careful."
Medic nodded, apparently unoffended. "Apology accepted!" he said.
Armsmaster then turned back to Taylor. "Now then, what exactly happened here?"
Oh sure, Taylor knew what she was feeling. She felt angry. She felt useless. She felt like she had to do whatever it took to stop feeling angry and useless. She felt like she needed escape. But fuck, what was she thinking?
With hindsight, Taylor realized that's exactly the problem: She wasn't thinking. Her decision to accelerate her plan of going out on patrol wasn't because of any logical reason, it was made because she felt like she had to.
And when Taylor realized Lung was trying to climb his way on top of the building she was also on, she had never regretted a decision more.
As soon as Lung started to lift himself up onto the roof, Taylor tried to use her pepper spray to stop him, but it had only blinded him rather than stopped him entirely. Taylor knew the same trick wouldn't work twice, so she had to get off the roof before Lung figured out where she was. He was blind, but there was nothing stopping him from washing the entire roof with flames.
Taylor turned her back to Lung, mind racing to find a way off the roof, but while her back was turned, Lung launched a fireball at her from where he was trying to haul himself up. Taylor was alerted to this only by a flash of light behind her and was knocked onto her stomach. It wasn't enough to launch her off the roof, and it hadn't set her costume or hair on fire, but Taylor was sure she wouldn't be so lucky twice.
Taylor glanced at the fire escape next to her. She briefly entertained using it to get away, but that would have been too slow and too loud. If Lung could hear her stepping on gravel from down on the street, there was no question he would be able to hear her clang down the metal stairs.
Below the fire escape, though, Taylor spotted an open dumpster with several trash bags in it. It was several stories down… but maybe it could break her fall?
Well, it was that or getting barbequed by a dragon, so Taylor decided to take her chances.
Thankfully for her, the dumpster mostly broke her fall. It also broke, or at least injured, her leg, resulting in her needing to hobble out of the alleyway and onto the main street. Maybe someone would come help her? A hero responding to the fight? Lung wasn't exactly quiet, so surely someone had called 911.
Taylor chanced a glance over her shoulder. Lung had finally gotten onto the roof, but apparently Taylor's fall was loud enough for him to hear, because the dragon was staring right at her, snarling. Taylor hobbled faster.
"H-help!" she cried, sounding pitiful even to her. "Someone help! Please!"
Someone must've been looking out for Taylor, because a man sprinted around a block. The man wore a pure white medical coat with a red cross on both shoulders. Combat boots and plain brown pants adorned his legs and feet. Thick, red rubber gloves were on both of his hands, which were holding some kind of blaster device. The gun was hooked up to another device on his back, and both were whirring with electricity and shining red light. Was he a Tinker? Did his gun have enough firepower to stop Lung?
The thing that caught Taylor's eye the most, however, was the man's face. Rather than a mask, the man wore only a pair of old looking glasses and a wide grin. Why did he not have a mask? Was he not a cape? Had he lived somewhere nearby and rushed out to help her in such a rush that he had forgotten?
"Are you injured?" the man asked in a thick German accent. Taylor felt her heart skip a beat. Oh shit, was he with the Empire?
Taylor briefly considered refuting the man, but she was in desperate need of help and couldn't afford to be picky. "Yes!" she responded.
The man nodded and raised his gun to aim it at Taylor. Taylor raised her arms up to defend herself and tried to cry out, but before she could, a red beam erupted from the blaster, hitting her square in the chest. As soon as it did, the throbbing in her leg was washed away. Scratches and bruises she hadn't even noticed thanks to the adrenaline also faded, leaving Taylor feeling completely healthy after just a few seconds.
Well, Taylor supposed that explained the medical coat.
"Woah! Thanks a lot!" Taylor said before remembering that she was still being chased. "Wait, we need to get out of here now!"
As soon as she finished speaking, Taylor heard a great thud and spun around. Several feet behind her, Lung had created a crater in the middle of the street from where he jumped down from the roof. His eyes were swollen and unlikely to still be working, but Taylor could swear Lung looked her right in the eyes as he snarled and began to approach her slowly and menacingly.
"What is that?" her savior asked, voice tinged with… awe? Or was it fear? Logic dictated the latter, but Taylor could have sworn she heard the former.
Taylor turned back to the man. "We need to get out of here," she said, beginning to panic. "Unless that blaster is also a laser gun?"
The cape shook his head with a scoff. "No, my Medi Gun isn't an actual gun, but I do have something better," he said with an even wider smile. "You're lucky I've been saving this one up for a while."
Before Taylor could ask him what he was talking about, the man aimed his blaster, apparently called a Medi Gun, at her again. The beam was the same red color, but instead of healing Taylor's wounds, the beam made Taylor feel alive.
It was as though a burst of energy had been sent throughout Taylor's body, supercharging every organ, muscle, and cell in her body. Taylor spun back around to face Lung, who had halted, now eyeing Taylor and her new friend with more suspicion. Taylor refused to give him a chance to act on this, and without thinking, she screamed out a battle cry and bolted toward the dragon at full speed.
Taylor immediately noticed she was much faster and cleared the distance between the two of them in only a couple seconds. Lung obviously didn't expect her to close the gap so quickly and was unable to react as Taylor delivered a sloppy right hook to his face.
The punch sent Lung reeling back, but Taylor refused to give him any room to recover. She kept up the offense, delivering several more punches to Lung's face. After half a dozen strikes, Lung stopped trying to get up.
Suddenly, Taylor felt the energy leave, knocking all the wind out of her sails in an instant. She immediately took several steps back. Holy fuck, did she just punch Lung in the face? And win?
She wheeled around to face her ally, who had followed after her but kept a safe distance. "What the fuck was that!" she cried.
"That, my young friend, was the Übercharge!" he explained, immensely proud of himself. "As you can see, it powers up an individual immensely, if only for a couple of seconds. I used to need to implant a device on the patient's heart for it to work, but that's no longer necessary for my newest version."
Taylor was stunned and jealous. Being able to build a device that can both heal and give someone a Brute power is so powerful it's not even fair. Taylor was starting to feel even more inadequate about her own powers. Compared to this guy and Lung, who would ever take something as lame as bug control seriously?
"Now then, what can you tell me about this particular creature?" the man asked. As he did, he approached Lung's downed form, a syringe in his right hand. The needle must've been made of some pretty sturdy stuff, because it was able to puncture Lung's scales without issue. The man then began to draw blood from Lung.
"Uh, well, that's Lung," Taylor said, lamely. "Are you new in town?"
He must be, because who in Brockton Bay hadn't heard of Lung?
The man scoffed. "Yes, you could say that," he replied. "By the way, do you happen to know where the nearest library or university is? That was what I intended to be my first stop, but it seems that'll have to wait until I'm done with this... specimen."
Taylor internally breathed a sigh of relief. If he was going to wait here with Lung for the authorities to arrive, she highly doubted he was a member of the Empire. "Uh, well there's a college and city library downtown," she answered. "Uh, what's your name?"
The man finished extracting blood from Lung and turned around to face her. "Wonderful, wonderful," the man said, pocketing the vial of blood. "That is very helpful, thank you. As for my name, you may call me Medic."
Taylor thought that name was a bit too simple and on the nose, but she couldn't really talk because she hadn't come up with any name at all. "Well I, uh, haven't come up with a name yet. This was my first night out, actually. Uh, thanks a lot for helping me, though. I would've died if you hadn't, so… yeah, thanks," Taylor said, cringing at her lame finish.
The man chuckled. Before he could respond, however, Taylor turned around to see a motorcycle screech to a halt in front of her. Taylor gasped as Armsmaster, her favorite hero in Brockton Bay, dismounted. She must have been so distracted that she hadn't heard him approach.
Armsmaster stood there holding his signature halberd for a moment as though waiting for something. After an awkward moment, he finally spoke. "You gonna fight me?" he asked.
Taylor shared a glance with Medic, who shrugged. Taylor guessed she would be the one doing the talking.
"Uh, no," she said. "We're heroes."
"You don't look like one, but you're telling the truth," Armsmaster said. He glanced at Medic. "Do you need a mask?"
Medic looked puzzled but shook his head. "No thank you," he said.
Armsmaster nodded before stepping between her and Medic to walk past them and approach Lung, who was beginning to stir. He pointed the tip of his halberd at him and fired something out of the point. Almost immediately after, Lung's draconic changes began to recede back into his body. After less than a minute, he was back to being a human.
"Hmm, so he's human?" Medic asked, perplexed. Did he assume Lung was a monster cape? Honestly, given what Medic had seen of him, Taylor could see how he assumed that.
"Yes, Lung is fully human," Armsmaster replied. "And he is wanted for a litany of crimes. He will likely be facing a virtual trial as soon as he is in Protectorate custody and has woken up from the tranquilizers I gave him. They'll stop him from regenerating and waking up early."
Taylor's blood ran cold. She had pumped a lot of insect venom into Lung before he started ramping up. If all of that was still in his system and he no longer had his regeneration, would that be enough to kill him?
"Wait a second!" Taylor almost shouted. "I had a lot of bugs bite him before the fight started, could he go into anaphylactic shock or something?"
Armsmaster froze before swearing under his breath. "Shit, maybe. I need to rush him to a hospital."
Medic cleared his throat. "Please, allow me," he said, raising his Medi Gun to fire a beam at Lung. Almost immediately, all of Lung's injuries began to vanish, including the marks Taylor had left on his face and his swollen eyes. After a moment, the beam halted, and Lung once again began to stir. Before he could do anything, however, Armsmaster shot him with the tranquilizer again.
"Thank you, that could've been bad. If you two hadn't warned me or done something, he could have died," Armsmaster said. "Now then, what exactly happened here? And what are your names?"
"Uh, well, I was patrolling the area. It's my first night out, and I don't exactly have a name yet," she said. "It's hard to come up with a name that's bug related but doesn't sound evil."
Armsmaster chuckled. "I became a hero early enough that many good names were still available. What about you, sir?"
"You may call me Medic. Pleased to meet you," Medic said, offering a handshake to Armsmaster.
Taylor mentally facepalmed. Why hadn't she offered to shake his hand? That was basic manners!
Armsmaster, however, eyed Medic warily after hearing his accent and did not take the offered hand. "Are you with the Empire?"
Medic's face scrunched up in confusion. He turned to give Taylor a questioning look.
"Oh yeah, I forgot you said you're new in town. They're one of the biggest gangs in the city, and they're nazis," Taylor explained.
If Taylor had any doubts that Medic was a part of the Empire they vanished when his face soured as though he had eaten something rotten. "Bah, fascists! They spoil the good nation of Germany! No, absolutely not!" he denied vehemently.
Armsmaster's posture relaxed. "Apologies for my presumption," he said, taking Medic's still outstretched hand, "but one can never be too careful."
Medic nodded, apparently unoffended. "Apology accepted!" he said.
Armsmaster then turned back to Taylor. "Now then, what exactly happened here?"
Inspection 1.3
The8BitzySpider
Not too sore, are you?
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Medic listened with rapt attention as the unnamed girl explained her encounter with Lung to Armsmaster. As she did so, Medic's mind raced. Why did the girl say she controlled insects so casually? She said that was her "power," so were unique abilities common in this world? Medic supposed that would explain how the criminal behind him was fully human and not a half lizard abomination like he had first assumed.
How did these powers work? Surely there must be some level of research on them if they were a known phenomena. Medic reached down into his coat pocket to grasp the vial of blood he had taken from the dragon. Would his blood be the key to unlocking this mystery? Was it possible to isolate the strand of his DNA that gave him powers? He needed to know!
Medic realized his breathing was getting faster and calmed himself.
Medic shook his head. He realized he was putting the cart before the horse. It was possible that powers were somehow not based on biology whatsoever. Medic hoped not, but he needed to establish a baseline of information before he began to plan experiments. And once that information was acquired, he would need to secure resources. Not just lab equipment, but subjects as well.
Once the girl got to the part of the story where she encountered Medic, he spoke up to offer support of her story. Medic was unsure of what to think of the girl. He could tell she had good instincts in a fight based on both her story of how she escaped the roof and what Medic observed of her beatdown of Lung. She seemed to have a good opinion of him and could make a potential ally, but she seemed too respectful of the law to tolerate the sorts of experiments he did on his teammates back home. Additionally, she gave off the impression of naivete. What was she hoping to accomplish by walking around looking for a fight? She didn't seem to be a violence-loving knucklehead, so what was she after? Vengeance? Glory? Death?
Medic shrugged. Oh well, he didn't care.
After the girl finished speaking, Armsmaster finally went to speak. "Well, you certainly got lucky. Do you realize that if this newcomer wasn't around you would have almost certainly died?" he asked evenly.
The girl shrunk in on herself, ashamed. "Yes," she said slowly.
"That is why we have the Wards program," he said. "You could receive training and support alongside teammates to watch your back."
The girl didn't say anything for a moment. "I… I don't know," she said after a moment. "What do you think?"
It took Medic a moment to realize she was asking him. Why did the girl care for his opinion? Because he saved her? Was that really all it took for the girl to place her trust in him? Medic noted that foolishness may be just as fitting as naive when describing the girl's character.
Taking pity on the girl, Medic decided to answer as best he could. "Well, having a team is always much more advantageous to not having one, especially when your teammates are those you can count on. Look at what you accomplished today by yourself and compare it to what you accomplished with my help," Medic said, gesturing to the fallen form of Lung. "I had teammates once, and I certainly got a lot farther with them than I would've without."
And wasn't that the truth. Where would Medic be if he had never encountered the rest of Team Fortress? A prison in Germany or whatever nation he would try his experiments next? Forever on the run from the law, unable to accomplish much science because he could never settle down? Working for a distasteful man like the original Team Fortress's Heavy? Dead? Who could possibly say.
Medic felt an emotion he recognized as melancholy overcome him. He found his feelings toward his fellow mercenaries hard to describe. All of them were not what most would call normal, least of all himself, but that was part of why Medic liked each of them. Normality is overrated, boring, and stale.
"...once?" the girl asked.
Medic nodded. "Yes. They are… no longer around."
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be. I spent many good years with them, and we saved each other's lives more times than I could ever care to count. Well, I was mostly saving their lives," Medic said, gesturing to his Medi Gun, "but every now and again one of those fools would prove themselves useful."
The girl looked down, pensive. "I'm not sure how useful I'd be to a team, though. I mean, compared to you, Armsmaster, and Lung, what good is a power like bug control?"
Medic raised an eyebrow. "Well, I wouldn't call your ability useless. Any strength can be utilized well with proper experimentation and a bit of creativity. Tell me, how exactly does your power work? Do you need to see an insect to control it? Are you communicating with them and giving them orders? Or do you hijack their bodies entirely? Can you feel what they feel? Hear what they hear? See what they see?" Medic asked, curiosity momentarily overcoming him.
It was hard to tell exactly what the girl's expression was due to the full face mask, but Medic assumed it was thoughtful.
"Well, for starters I do fully control the insects. I don't need to see them, I just automatically take control of all insects within my range, which is a couple blocks. Uh, I can kinda see out of them, but bugs don't have very good vision or hearing. It's easier to just get a feel for where someone is by placing a bug on them," she explained.
Medic nodded before freezing. Wait a moment.
"You are controlling every single insect within several blocks?" he asked, shocked. "That is incredible! That level of processing power is well beyond the observed limits of the human brain. Is multitasking another one of your powers?"
"Uh, yeah actually," the girl said.
"Incredible," Medic repeated softly. Medic was well versed in upgrading multiple organs in the human body by either attaching devices onto them or replacing them with upgraded versions. The brain, however, was the one Medic always had the most trouble with. It was fragile, and unlike a heart or liver, there was no replacing the brain. Medic could repair it to some extent, but never replace or meaningfully upgrade.
If this girl's brain was different somehow, perhaps it could be the key to bypassing that obstacle. And even if it couldn't, Medic still needed to know how her brain worked regardless.
"That does sound like a moderately powerful Thinker ability. Your Master ability, however, could be very useful for the Wards and Protectorate. The ability to scout a location prior to an assault could greatly reduce the amount of surprises or ambushes encountered during an operation, to say nothing of the ability to incapacitate large numbers of unpowered gangsters," Armsmaster chimed in, speaking up for the first time in a while. Medic had almost forgotten he was here.
Wait, had Armsmaster referred to the girl's multitasking ability as "moderately powerful?" Did individuals with even stronger cognitive enhancements exist?
On second thought, maybe there were better potential subjects than the girl. There was no need to be hasty and burn a bridge when better candidates may present themselves in the future. Besides, Medic imagined he would be occupied with catching up on academically acquired knowledge and examining Lung's blood for the foreseeable future.
The girl perked up upon hearing praise from the armored man. "Really?" she asked, hopeful. "I'll get to help?"
Armsmaster nodded. "Yes. You shouldn't be in any danger, either. There's no reason to have you on the front lines of an operation. You would be much more valuable operating as a source of intelligence. Knowing when and where enemy reinforcements are approaching could literally save lives," he explained. "Typically Wards are only assigned patrols, which you will likely still participate in. Wards are only supposed to be involved in Protectorate assignments in the case of an emergency, but I see no reason not to allow you to assist us in standard operations such as raids in a supporting capacity."
Medic looked back to the girl, who was now nodding. "That does sound great… What about the other Wards? What are they like?"
"They each vary in personality, but they are all trustworthy out in the field," Armsmaster replied.
The girl hummed, clearly considering the man's words. After a moment she nodded. "Alright, that sounds good. I think I would like to join."
Armsmaster smiled, clearly pleased. "Wonderful. The PR team can help you with deciding on a name. They may require you to make alterations to your costume, as it does look a bit… intimidating."
The girl chuckled. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was already almost done by the time I realized how it looked."
"Indeed," Armsmaster said simply before turning to Medic. "As for you, sir, I would like to know more about you. You mentioned having experience with a team, which implies that you have been operating for some amount of time, but healers are incredibly rare and I've never heard of a cape with your capabilities. You claimed to have never heard of either Empire Eighty-Eight, one of the biggest gangs on the Eastern seaboard, or the Wards program. Furthermore, you forgoed a mask, and my helmet is set to automatically run a facial recognition scan of anyone I see. Yours was not a match for any North American, European, or Australian database. Who are you exactly?"
How did these powers work? Surely there must be some level of research on them if they were a known phenomena. Medic reached down into his coat pocket to grasp the vial of blood he had taken from the dragon. Would his blood be the key to unlocking this mystery? Was it possible to isolate the strand of his DNA that gave him powers? He needed to know!
Medic realized his breathing was getting faster and calmed himself.
Medic shook his head. He realized he was putting the cart before the horse. It was possible that powers were somehow not based on biology whatsoever. Medic hoped not, but he needed to establish a baseline of information before he began to plan experiments. And once that information was acquired, he would need to secure resources. Not just lab equipment, but subjects as well.
Once the girl got to the part of the story where she encountered Medic, he spoke up to offer support of her story. Medic was unsure of what to think of the girl. He could tell she had good instincts in a fight based on both her story of how she escaped the roof and what Medic observed of her beatdown of Lung. She seemed to have a good opinion of him and could make a potential ally, but she seemed too respectful of the law to tolerate the sorts of experiments he did on his teammates back home. Additionally, she gave off the impression of naivete. What was she hoping to accomplish by walking around looking for a fight? She didn't seem to be a violence-loving knucklehead, so what was she after? Vengeance? Glory? Death?
Medic shrugged. Oh well, he didn't care.
After the girl finished speaking, Armsmaster finally went to speak. "Well, you certainly got lucky. Do you realize that if this newcomer wasn't around you would have almost certainly died?" he asked evenly.
The girl shrunk in on herself, ashamed. "Yes," she said slowly.
"That is why we have the Wards program," he said. "You could receive training and support alongside teammates to watch your back."
The girl didn't say anything for a moment. "I… I don't know," she said after a moment. "What do you think?"
It took Medic a moment to realize she was asking him. Why did the girl care for his opinion? Because he saved her? Was that really all it took for the girl to place her trust in him? Medic noted that foolishness may be just as fitting as naive when describing the girl's character.
Taking pity on the girl, Medic decided to answer as best he could. "Well, having a team is always much more advantageous to not having one, especially when your teammates are those you can count on. Look at what you accomplished today by yourself and compare it to what you accomplished with my help," Medic said, gesturing to the fallen form of Lung. "I had teammates once, and I certainly got a lot farther with them than I would've without."
And wasn't that the truth. Where would Medic be if he had never encountered the rest of Team Fortress? A prison in Germany or whatever nation he would try his experiments next? Forever on the run from the law, unable to accomplish much science because he could never settle down? Working for a distasteful man like the original Team Fortress's Heavy? Dead? Who could possibly say.
Medic felt an emotion he recognized as melancholy overcome him. He found his feelings toward his fellow mercenaries hard to describe. All of them were not what most would call normal, least of all himself, but that was part of why Medic liked each of them. Normality is overrated, boring, and stale.
"...once?" the girl asked.
Medic nodded. "Yes. They are… no longer around."
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be. I spent many good years with them, and we saved each other's lives more times than I could ever care to count. Well, I was mostly saving their lives," Medic said, gesturing to his Medi Gun, "but every now and again one of those fools would prove themselves useful."
The girl looked down, pensive. "I'm not sure how useful I'd be to a team, though. I mean, compared to you, Armsmaster, and Lung, what good is a power like bug control?"
Medic raised an eyebrow. "Well, I wouldn't call your ability useless. Any strength can be utilized well with proper experimentation and a bit of creativity. Tell me, how exactly does your power work? Do you need to see an insect to control it? Are you communicating with them and giving them orders? Or do you hijack their bodies entirely? Can you feel what they feel? Hear what they hear? See what they see?" Medic asked, curiosity momentarily overcoming him.
It was hard to tell exactly what the girl's expression was due to the full face mask, but Medic assumed it was thoughtful.
"Well, for starters I do fully control the insects. I don't need to see them, I just automatically take control of all insects within my range, which is a couple blocks. Uh, I can kinda see out of them, but bugs don't have very good vision or hearing. It's easier to just get a feel for where someone is by placing a bug on them," she explained.
Medic nodded before freezing. Wait a moment.
"You are controlling every single insect within several blocks?" he asked, shocked. "That is incredible! That level of processing power is well beyond the observed limits of the human brain. Is multitasking another one of your powers?"
"Uh, yeah actually," the girl said.
"Incredible," Medic repeated softly. Medic was well versed in upgrading multiple organs in the human body by either attaching devices onto them or replacing them with upgraded versions. The brain, however, was the one Medic always had the most trouble with. It was fragile, and unlike a heart or liver, there was no replacing the brain. Medic could repair it to some extent, but never replace or meaningfully upgrade.
If this girl's brain was different somehow, perhaps it could be the key to bypassing that obstacle. And even if it couldn't, Medic still needed to know how her brain worked regardless.
"That does sound like a moderately powerful Thinker ability. Your Master ability, however, could be very useful for the Wards and Protectorate. The ability to scout a location prior to an assault could greatly reduce the amount of surprises or ambushes encountered during an operation, to say nothing of the ability to incapacitate large numbers of unpowered gangsters," Armsmaster chimed in, speaking up for the first time in a while. Medic had almost forgotten he was here.
Wait, had Armsmaster referred to the girl's multitasking ability as "moderately powerful?" Did individuals with even stronger cognitive enhancements exist?
On second thought, maybe there were better potential subjects than the girl. There was no need to be hasty and burn a bridge when better candidates may present themselves in the future. Besides, Medic imagined he would be occupied with catching up on academically acquired knowledge and examining Lung's blood for the foreseeable future.
The girl perked up upon hearing praise from the armored man. "Really?" she asked, hopeful. "I'll get to help?"
Armsmaster nodded. "Yes. You shouldn't be in any danger, either. There's no reason to have you on the front lines of an operation. You would be much more valuable operating as a source of intelligence. Knowing when and where enemy reinforcements are approaching could literally save lives," he explained. "Typically Wards are only assigned patrols, which you will likely still participate in. Wards are only supposed to be involved in Protectorate assignments in the case of an emergency, but I see no reason not to allow you to assist us in standard operations such as raids in a supporting capacity."
Medic looked back to the girl, who was now nodding. "That does sound great… What about the other Wards? What are they like?"
"They each vary in personality, but they are all trustworthy out in the field," Armsmaster replied.
The girl hummed, clearly considering the man's words. After a moment she nodded. "Alright, that sounds good. I think I would like to join."
Armsmaster smiled, clearly pleased. "Wonderful. The PR team can help you with deciding on a name. They may require you to make alterations to your costume, as it does look a bit… intimidating."
The girl chuckled. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was already almost done by the time I realized how it looked."
"Indeed," Armsmaster said simply before turning to Medic. "As for you, sir, I would like to know more about you. You mentioned having experience with a team, which implies that you have been operating for some amount of time, but healers are incredibly rare and I've never heard of a cape with your capabilities. You claimed to have never heard of either Empire Eighty-Eight, one of the biggest gangs on the Eastern seaboard, or the Wards program. Furthermore, you forgoed a mask, and my helmet is set to automatically run a facial recognition scan of anyone I see. Yours was not a match for any North American, European, or Australian database. Who are you exactly?"
Inspection 1.4
The8BitzySpider
Not too sore, are you?
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Medic quickly considered what to say. Should he lie? What lie could possibly be believable?
No, telling the truth would be a better plan. It wasn't very likely that Armsmaster would try to arrest him just for being from another dimension. Medic got the impression that the armored man was somehow affiliated with law enforcement, so maybe the government would help him?
Medic cleared his throat. "Well, it is something of a long story, but essentially, a teleporting device built by one of my allies malfunctioned and it transported me here instead of back to our base. Except back home, the year was 1968."
Armsmaster and the girl both stared at him, presumably shocked.
"You're… telling the truth," Armsmaster said after a moment. "So, you're a time traveler?"
Medic shook his head. "I don't think so. To the contrary, I'm fairly certain I am actually from another dimension. Time travel isn't impossible, but the man who built the teleporter mentioned that dimensional travel was possible in the event of a malfunction."
Armsmaster shook his head. "I see, that makes more sense. Unlike time travel, dimensional travel and the existence of other Earths are not unheard of. We have been in contact with another Earth, Earth Aleph, for many years now, although travel to and from is highly illegal," Medic went to protest, but Armsmaster cut him off. "Don't worry about that. In your case it is clearly accidental, which has happened on a few occasions. Standard procedure is to invite you back to PRT HQ and get a new identity established for you until a way to transport you home is discovered."
"Truly?" Medic asked.
Armsmaster nodded. "Indeed," he said. Medic allowed himself to smile. It seemed he had gotten worried for nothing. "However, I do need to warn you that a way to navigate and travel across dimensions is not something the PRT has been able to discern, and they are unlikely to ever do so. A villain known as Dr. Haywire figured it out, but he almost started a multidimensional war, so people are still wary of freely traveling dimensions. It is unlikely a way home will be made available to you anytime soon, and in the meantime, I would like to extend to you an invitation to become a member of the Protectorate."
Medic considered what Armsmaster had said about dimensional travel. He already hadn't been expecting to get home, so confirmation was nice, if unfortunate for his long-term plans. "Thank you for telling me. As for the Protectorate, I assume it is some sort of policing force?" Medic asked.
Armsmaster nodded. "You assume correctly."
Medic considered the offer. He realized that the idea of a criminal such as him joining a law enforcement organization is somewhat laughable. Medic enjoyed combat, but he didn't want that to be his focus. In the short amount of time he'd been on this new Earth, Medic had already discovered several avenues of research that he wanted to explore as soon as possible. Maybe this Protectorate would prefer for him to join as a researcher? And even if they did accept, would they permit some of his more invasive procedures?
Medic wasn't a fool. He was well aware that many people, especially those aligned with the law, would be afraid of many of his experiments. He had learned that lesson when he was chased out of Germany.
Medic wanted the resources to do his experiments and a baseline of knowledge to get started. He was sure that there would be many organizations willing to offer him employment, but Medic would be surprised if this dimension's American government didn't hoard knowledge just as much as his one back home. Getting access to those databases would give him a crucial head start, but was that worth playing nice?
"Well, I'm not much of a fighter," Medic explained, airing his concerns. "I don't mind combat every now and again, but I much prefer research and science."
Armsmaster nodded as though that wasn't particularly surprising. "Protectorate Tinkers are allowed stipends and allotted times to Tinker depending on their ratings. Healing is so sought after, however, that you should be allowed a very sizable stipend regardless of your rating."
Tinker? Rating? This world's terminology was beginning to confuse Medic.
"I'm sorry, but can you explain a little further what you mean by that? What exactly is a Tinker?"
Armsmaster sighed. "Apologies, I should have known our world's terminologies would be different," he said. Just then, his helmet started producing a beeping noise. "PRT troopers are almost here. Why not come back to PRT HQ and get your citizenship squared away? That offer is not contingent on you joining the Protectorate. Once you do, we can exchange information on our dimensions and you can come to a decision."
Medic hummed as he considered the offer. It isn't a bad one, and it would allow him to get a better idea of this dimension before making a decision.
Medic nodded. "That sounds fair."
Armsmaster nodded back, looking happy with himself. "Excellent," he said. Just then, a trio of black vans, each one with the letters "PRT" on their side, rounded the corner and pulled up next to their group with dozens of troopers in what appeared to be riot gear piling out as soon as each van screeched to a halt. The troopers immediately moved to secure Lung. "The two of you can ride back to PRT HQ in one of the vans. We can get everything sorted out there."
Medic and the girl both nodded before making their way to the nearest van. After they climbed in, Medic watched as several troopers worked together to lift Lung and carry him into a different van until a different trooper closed the side doors and made his way to the driver's seat.
As the driver started the van and began to take off, the girl began to speak.
"Uh, hey, Medic? I just wanted to say thanks for helping me. I, uh, probably would've died, so… yeah, thanks," she said awkwardly.
"Think nothing of it. In fact, thank you for helping me procure a sample," he said, reaching into his pocket to flourish his vial of Lung's blood. "With this, I should be able to start researching how superhuman powers work."
"Wait, you don't know?" Medic shook his head. What did he not know? "Well, there are two parts of the brain that have to deal with powers. I think they're called the corona… something," the girl said. "But people have been researching them for years without finding anything out, are you sure you can do better?"
Medic scoffed. Who did this girl think he was? "Please, I assure you that no one scientist could possibly match my expertise. I've grafted superchargers onto people's hearts before, figuring out the function of a couple of brain organs will be child's play."
"...what do you mean by that? Like, you did surgery?" the girl asked, fear creeping into her voice. Was she afraid of surgery? Well, Medic supposed most people were afraid of surgery done by him, but this girl was unaware of his reputation. Why would she be scared?
"...yes?" Medic answered, confused.
The girl looked up to the front of the van. The driver did not appear to be able to hear them, so she snapped back to Medic. "You're a Wet Tinker!?" the girl said in a sharp whisper.
"Maybe. What exactly is a Wet Tinker?"
"They're like regular Tinkers, except instead of machines, they make or alter living things," she said. "Listen, you cannot let them know you're a Biotinker."
"Why not?" Medic asked. "Wouldn't they be happy at the idea of someone able to do surgery to heal wounds and provide biologic upgrades?"
The girl shook her head. "No, not even a little bit," she said. "There's a Slaughterhouse Nine, a group of insane supervillains that wanders the country, killing people for fun. One of their members is named Bonesaw, and she's a Biotinker too. She experiments on and tortures people in all kinds of crazy ways for fun. She's melded people together, fused them with machines… I don't even know what else. But she always leaves them alive to prolong their suffering."
As the girl continued to explain everything wrong with the insane supervillain, Medic found himself growing fascinated. Was this Bonesaw character like him? A misunderstood genius trying to learn more about the limits of the human body? The more detail the girl went into about her insane experiments, the more Medic became certain that Bonesaw was his type of woman.
"So you see? Everyone, especially the PRT, are afraid of Wet Tinkers because they're afraid of another Bonesaw. I don't think you're like that since you saved me," the girl said. Medic had to fight with all his might to keep a straight face as she continued, "but you should really stick to regular Tinkering."
Well, even if that wasn't great news, it did give Medic a good idea on how his experiments would be viewed by the law in his new dimension. It also made Medic further consider his next move. Medic wasn't about to give up experimenting on live subjects completely… but he still wanted access to the PRT's database. Badly. It seemed that the more Medic found out about this world, the more he didn't know. He needed to get caught up before deciding on his long-term plans.
Maybe he could join the Protectorate for only a little while? He could learn everything he needed to about both the politics of his new world and give himself a baseline for his research before leaving. The PRT would probably be pretty unhappy with his departure, but they couldn't exactly stop him, could they?
Yes, that sounded like a good plan. Medic wasn't eager to forgo wet work, but Medic was sure he could find something to experiment on that the PRT was unlikely to either notice or care about.
Medic nodded at the girl. "Thank you very much for telling me about all this," he said. "And I promise I won't allow myself to get arrested for any Biotinkering."
If the girl breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," she said. "Does that mean you're going to join the Protectorate?"
Medic nodded. "Yes, indeed. I don't mind fighting, in fact I find it fun, but I'm mostly eager to pursue further research, and the Protectorate seems like the best place for that."
"Well, I'm glad I'll know someone else there in case everyone else turns out to be an ass," she said before reaching up to take off her mask, revealing the fairly plain face of a teenage girl. "If we're going to be working together, you'll learn my name sooner or later, so I might as well tell you. I'm Taylor, nice to meet you."
Taylor offered a hand for Medic to shake, and he took it. "Dr. Julius Ludwig, but please, continue to call me Medic, or Doctor if you prefer," he said. "And it is good to meet you too."
No, telling the truth would be a better plan. It wasn't very likely that Armsmaster would try to arrest him just for being from another dimension. Medic got the impression that the armored man was somehow affiliated with law enforcement, so maybe the government would help him?
Medic cleared his throat. "Well, it is something of a long story, but essentially, a teleporting device built by one of my allies malfunctioned and it transported me here instead of back to our base. Except back home, the year was 1968."
Armsmaster and the girl both stared at him, presumably shocked.
"You're… telling the truth," Armsmaster said after a moment. "So, you're a time traveler?"
Medic shook his head. "I don't think so. To the contrary, I'm fairly certain I am actually from another dimension. Time travel isn't impossible, but the man who built the teleporter mentioned that dimensional travel was possible in the event of a malfunction."
Armsmaster shook his head. "I see, that makes more sense. Unlike time travel, dimensional travel and the existence of other Earths are not unheard of. We have been in contact with another Earth, Earth Aleph, for many years now, although travel to and from is highly illegal," Medic went to protest, but Armsmaster cut him off. "Don't worry about that. In your case it is clearly accidental, which has happened on a few occasions. Standard procedure is to invite you back to PRT HQ and get a new identity established for you until a way to transport you home is discovered."
"Truly?" Medic asked.
Armsmaster nodded. "Indeed," he said. Medic allowed himself to smile. It seemed he had gotten worried for nothing. "However, I do need to warn you that a way to navigate and travel across dimensions is not something the PRT has been able to discern, and they are unlikely to ever do so. A villain known as Dr. Haywire figured it out, but he almost started a multidimensional war, so people are still wary of freely traveling dimensions. It is unlikely a way home will be made available to you anytime soon, and in the meantime, I would like to extend to you an invitation to become a member of the Protectorate."
Medic considered what Armsmaster had said about dimensional travel. He already hadn't been expecting to get home, so confirmation was nice, if unfortunate for his long-term plans. "Thank you for telling me. As for the Protectorate, I assume it is some sort of policing force?" Medic asked.
Armsmaster nodded. "You assume correctly."
Medic considered the offer. He realized that the idea of a criminal such as him joining a law enforcement organization is somewhat laughable. Medic enjoyed combat, but he didn't want that to be his focus. In the short amount of time he'd been on this new Earth, Medic had already discovered several avenues of research that he wanted to explore as soon as possible. Maybe this Protectorate would prefer for him to join as a researcher? And even if they did accept, would they permit some of his more invasive procedures?
Medic wasn't a fool. He was well aware that many people, especially those aligned with the law, would be afraid of many of his experiments. He had learned that lesson when he was chased out of Germany.
Medic wanted the resources to do his experiments and a baseline of knowledge to get started. He was sure that there would be many organizations willing to offer him employment, but Medic would be surprised if this dimension's American government didn't hoard knowledge just as much as his one back home. Getting access to those databases would give him a crucial head start, but was that worth playing nice?
"Well, I'm not much of a fighter," Medic explained, airing his concerns. "I don't mind combat every now and again, but I much prefer research and science."
Armsmaster nodded as though that wasn't particularly surprising. "Protectorate Tinkers are allowed stipends and allotted times to Tinker depending on their ratings. Healing is so sought after, however, that you should be allowed a very sizable stipend regardless of your rating."
Tinker? Rating? This world's terminology was beginning to confuse Medic.
"I'm sorry, but can you explain a little further what you mean by that? What exactly is a Tinker?"
Armsmaster sighed. "Apologies, I should have known our world's terminologies would be different," he said. Just then, his helmet started producing a beeping noise. "PRT troopers are almost here. Why not come back to PRT HQ and get your citizenship squared away? That offer is not contingent on you joining the Protectorate. Once you do, we can exchange information on our dimensions and you can come to a decision."
Medic hummed as he considered the offer. It isn't a bad one, and it would allow him to get a better idea of this dimension before making a decision.
Medic nodded. "That sounds fair."
Armsmaster nodded back, looking happy with himself. "Excellent," he said. Just then, a trio of black vans, each one with the letters "PRT" on their side, rounded the corner and pulled up next to their group with dozens of troopers in what appeared to be riot gear piling out as soon as each van screeched to a halt. The troopers immediately moved to secure Lung. "The two of you can ride back to PRT HQ in one of the vans. We can get everything sorted out there."
Medic and the girl both nodded before making their way to the nearest van. After they climbed in, Medic watched as several troopers worked together to lift Lung and carry him into a different van until a different trooper closed the side doors and made his way to the driver's seat.
As the driver started the van and began to take off, the girl began to speak.
"Uh, hey, Medic? I just wanted to say thanks for helping me. I, uh, probably would've died, so… yeah, thanks," she said awkwardly.
"Think nothing of it. In fact, thank you for helping me procure a sample," he said, reaching into his pocket to flourish his vial of Lung's blood. "With this, I should be able to start researching how superhuman powers work."
"Wait, you don't know?" Medic shook his head. What did he not know? "Well, there are two parts of the brain that have to deal with powers. I think they're called the corona… something," the girl said. "But people have been researching them for years without finding anything out, are you sure you can do better?"
Medic scoffed. Who did this girl think he was? "Please, I assure you that no one scientist could possibly match my expertise. I've grafted superchargers onto people's hearts before, figuring out the function of a couple of brain organs will be child's play."
"...what do you mean by that? Like, you did surgery?" the girl asked, fear creeping into her voice. Was she afraid of surgery? Well, Medic supposed most people were afraid of surgery done by him, but this girl was unaware of his reputation. Why would she be scared?
"...yes?" Medic answered, confused.
The girl looked up to the front of the van. The driver did not appear to be able to hear them, so she snapped back to Medic. "You're a Wet Tinker!?" the girl said in a sharp whisper.
"Maybe. What exactly is a Wet Tinker?"
"They're like regular Tinkers, except instead of machines, they make or alter living things," she said. "Listen, you cannot let them know you're a Biotinker."
"Why not?" Medic asked. "Wouldn't they be happy at the idea of someone able to do surgery to heal wounds and provide biologic upgrades?"
The girl shook her head. "No, not even a little bit," she said. "There's a Slaughterhouse Nine, a group of insane supervillains that wanders the country, killing people for fun. One of their members is named Bonesaw, and she's a Biotinker too. She experiments on and tortures people in all kinds of crazy ways for fun. She's melded people together, fused them with machines… I don't even know what else. But she always leaves them alive to prolong their suffering."
As the girl continued to explain everything wrong with the insane supervillain, Medic found himself growing fascinated. Was this Bonesaw character like him? A misunderstood genius trying to learn more about the limits of the human body? The more detail the girl went into about her insane experiments, the more Medic became certain that Bonesaw was his type of woman.
"So you see? Everyone, especially the PRT, are afraid of Wet Tinkers because they're afraid of another Bonesaw. I don't think you're like that since you saved me," the girl said. Medic had to fight with all his might to keep a straight face as she continued, "but you should really stick to regular Tinkering."
Well, even if that wasn't great news, it did give Medic a good idea on how his experiments would be viewed by the law in his new dimension. It also made Medic further consider his next move. Medic wasn't about to give up experimenting on live subjects completely… but he still wanted access to the PRT's database. Badly. It seemed that the more Medic found out about this world, the more he didn't know. He needed to get caught up before deciding on his long-term plans.
Maybe he could join the Protectorate for only a little while? He could learn everything he needed to about both the politics of his new world and give himself a baseline for his research before leaving. The PRT would probably be pretty unhappy with his departure, but they couldn't exactly stop him, could they?
Yes, that sounded like a good plan. Medic wasn't eager to forgo wet work, but Medic was sure he could find something to experiment on that the PRT was unlikely to either notice or care about.
Medic nodded at the girl. "Thank you very much for telling me about all this," he said. "And I promise I won't allow myself to get arrested for any Biotinkering."
If the girl breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," she said. "Does that mean you're going to join the Protectorate?"
Medic nodded. "Yes, indeed. I don't mind fighting, in fact I find it fun, but I'm mostly eager to pursue further research, and the Protectorate seems like the best place for that."
"Well, I'm glad I'll know someone else there in case everyone else turns out to be an ass," she said before reaching up to take off her mask, revealing the fairly plain face of a teenage girl. "If we're going to be working together, you'll learn my name sooner or later, so I might as well tell you. I'm Taylor, nice to meet you."
Taylor offered a hand for Medic to shake, and he took it. "Dr. Julius Ludwig, but please, continue to call me Medic, or Doctor if you prefer," he said. "And it is good to meet you too."
Inspection 1.5
The8BitzySpider
Not too sore, are you?
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"And now I would like to present to you the newest members of the Protectorate and Wards: Medic and Monarch."
Medic and Taylor both walked out onto the stage, taking their places on either side of Director Piggot. It had been four days since the two of them had taken down Lung, and in that time, Medic had done more paperwork than he could ever remember doing in his life. It was a pain, but after Medic jumped through all the hoops of bureaucracy, he was able to begin researching everything there was to know about this world and its parahumans.
The PRT's rating and organization system for powers was fairly easy to pick up. The unwritten rules and the Endbringers were also curious. What made those creatures borderline immune to damage? The PRT had stored samples of each of them that had fallen off during battle. Maybe Medic would have to request a few of them for research in the future.
Also in those four days, both Medic's and Taylor's costumes had undergone minor alterations. Taylor's costume had mostly added color to make her look less menacing, and Medic's uniform had no changes at all outside of his pants and boots being more appropriate for combat. Medic hadn't even added a mask, despite what a few members of the PR team had suggested. Medic simply didn't see the point. He had no civilian connections and no prior identity, so why hide his face behind a stuffy face mask?
The PR team had done a complete 180 once Medic explained his reasoning. They realized that showing his face would allow Medic to seem more human or something. Medic secretly thought it funny that anyone would ever consider him a source of good PR, but he kept his mouth shut on the issue.
The PR side of the PRT also decided to announce his extradimensional origin for some reason. Medic didn't fully understand why, nor did he care. Piggot and Armsmaster were much more concerned with the details of his home world.
As it turned out, there were not very many changes from his world and this world in the 1960s. The only particularly glaring issue was the existence of Australium and how it caused Australia to become a global superpower.
Piggot wasn't very impressed when Medic explained how Australium increased health, intelligence, and strength of all those who interacted with it with no side effects other than excessive facial hair growth. She had thought Medic was full of shit until Armsmaster confirmed he was telling the truth with his lie detector.
Armsmaster thought it odd that no parahumans had appeared on Medic's Earth, but neither of them had any explanation as to why.
Well, Medic didn't have an explanation as to why yet.
Armsmaster was also very surprised Medic wasn't technically a Tinker because apparently Tinkertech was impossible to be replicated or even understood by anyone except the Tinker who built it. Armsmaster and another hero named Dragon spent several days trying to analyze his Medi Gun in hopes of replicating it, but no matter how many times or ways Medic explained it, neither was able to understand anything about his technology.
They were both frustrated that his tech seemed impossible to replicate, but Medic felt proud that his tech was so advanced it was on par with those made by superhumans. Medic wasn't technically a Tinker, but functionally, what he made was still Tinkertech.
Honestly, he felt that being a Tinker was somewhat cheating. Their powers were a massive shortcut, allowing them to not need to understand or research any type of science. At least Armsmaster and Dragon seemed educated on machinery.
"Now then, both Monarch and Medic will be accepting questions," Piggot said. After she did so, each and every member of the assembled media raised their hands and shouted out their questions, each voice piling on top of one another. Piggot pointed to one of them seemingly at random and everyone quieted down to hear the reporter ask her question.
"How exactly did the two of you defeat Lung?" she asked.
Piggot handed the microphone to Medic, apparently believing him a better person to answer. "Monarch was able to swarm Lung with insects before he could begin transforming, softening him up. I then used my Ubercharge to enhance Monarch's strength, allowing her to completely physically overpower him."
The crowd seemed equally shocked and impressed at his explanation. From what Medic could gather through his research, Lung was one of the most powerful parahumans in the city and had operated without arrest for years. For a pair of newcomers to make that long overdue arrest was apparently quite impressive.
Piggot took the microphone back. "The full details of Lung's arrest will be revealed later in the press release. Right now, we are focusing on Monarch and Medic. Next question."
"Medic, what are your thoughts on Panacea? Will you be working alongside her in the future?" the next reporter asked.
Ah yes, Panacea. She was one of the capes that had caught Medic's eye when doing his research of the local capes. The ability to heal any injury, disease, or condition, even if they were genetic, was fascinating. How exactly did she do it? Why did she have a limitation on brains? The PRT files suggested a suspicion that she wasn't being totally honest with her powers, but no one had any idea what she was hiding or why. Medic hoped he would be able to speak to her at some point to study her power a bit.
"I would certainly like to compare notes with Panacea at some point in the future. I believe that her power could help me with my experiments and inventions," Medic replied.
Medic certainly hoped Panacea would be open to helping him with his experiments and research, but he wasn't holding his breath. The girl seemed to thoroughly be a goody two shoes who only wanted to heal random people for free. To Medic, such a life sounded horribly dull. Where's the fun in repetition?
The next couple of questions were for Monarch, who answered them in a flat tone. Now that Medic was paying attention, he couldn't help but notice that she seemed upset. Medic wondered why. She seemed eager enough to join the Wards when he last spoke to her.
Eventually the questions came back to Medic. "Medic, what are your thoughts on Empire Eighty-Eight?" a reporter asked, no doubt inspired to do so by Medic's obvious accent.
Medic cleared his throat. "I understand some will be suspicious of me because of my country of origin, but I would like to make it completely clear that I have no love for fascism. The idea of there being a superior race is completely ridiculous, and it is in no way supported by science! Progress and research would be horribly dull without diversity and progress, and bigotry has only ever served as a roadblock on the path of science. I believe this city and this world would be better off without such simple minded and immature resentment."
After his brief rant, the gathered members of the media began to politely applaud him. Medic handed the microphone back to Piggot, who looked slightly pleased.
Medic and Taylor continued to answer increasingly menial questions until the press conference ended. What on Earth led them to think Monarch was his daughter? How unprofessional could they possibly be to ask Taylor if she had started a relationship with one of the other Wards?
Thankfully, Piggot ended the press conference before the questions could get any more ridiculous. After each of them had reentered the PRT HQ, Piggot gave both of them a quick word of praise before leaving. After she did, Monarch stormed off, clearly angry. Medic briefly wondered what that was all about before deciding it was none of his business.
Medic went back to his brand-new lab in the Protectorate HQ, also known as The Rig, where he had left an analysis of Lung's blood sample running. Once he arrived, he was pleased to see that the machine was finished running. Modern technology was truly making his job easier.
As Medic went over the results, however, he was puzzled to find that Lung's blood was completely normal. There were no traces of any signaling molecules connected to his transformations.
Medic didn't understand how that was possible. The Corona Pollentia and Gemma were supposed to be the sources of parahuman powers and how their users controlled them, but the brain could only order the release of hormones that would in turn elicit a response from the body. If there were no hormones, how could Lung's body transform? It didn't make any sense.
Maybe the hormones used to be there, but somehow disappeared? That didn't really make any sense. Hormones already dissolve in the bloodstream as they move throughout the body, so they couldn't have dissolved again. Maybe the process was so efficient that after Lung's transformations had reverted, the hormones left his bloodstream? That wasn't possible either, because Medic had taken his sample before Armsmaster used his tranquilizer and Lung had returned to normal.
Medic continued to analyze the blood sample, this time using a different machine to isolate Lung's DNA and compare it to a sample of his own DNA. Medic had needed to make a few improvements to this device to get it to operate on such an exact level, but it was necessary for his purposes.
As Medic continued to examine Lung's DNA, he only grew more confused. Lung's DNA reflected that of a completely baseline human. A gene related to the Corona Pollentia or Gemma was nowhere to be found.
How was that possible? Both don't appear in every human, so there must be some genetic difference between a parahuman and a regular human. But try as he might, Medic was simply unable to find a difference. Was it possible that powers weren't genetic at all? That didn't make any sense, powers come from organs in the brain. How could parahumans grow two organs in their brains and not have it be reflected in their DNA?
In order to solve this mystery, Medic would need to examine a parahuman brain directly, but according to Taylor and what he found in the PRT database, his new employers were unlikely to be pleased if he started doing surgeries.
What else could Medic do? Analyze more DNA samples? Yes, that was a good plan. A larger sample size would help confirm or deny his suspicions before he moved on to a different avenue of research.
Medic felt his stomach rumble. A glance at the clock revealed it was almost three in the afternoon. When was the last time he ate? Medic couldn't recall. He didn't have time for breakfast this morning with the press conference, and he definitely skipped lunch because he was too eager to see the results of the tests on Lung's blood.
Rather than placing Lung's blood sample and all of his equipment in storage, Medic left it out with the intention of bringing his late lunch back to his lab to continue researching as he ate. Medic then made his way to where he recalled the Rig's cafeteria was and collected a healthy meal for himself. As he turned to leave, however, his attention was captured by someone in the corner of the cafeteria waving him over. Medic recognized the man waving at him as Assault and the woman sitting across from him as Battery, the only two of his new coworkers that he had not yet been introduced to.
In the four days between meeting Armsmaster and his debut that morning, Medic was able to meet with each of the Protectorate heroes. None of them left much of an impression, and Medic was pleased to note that none of them seemed very interested in Medic's experiments, which was just fine by him. He hadn't yet had the pleasure of meeting Assault or Battery, but from what he had heard of the two, the former was a joker kept in check by the latter.
Medic decided he might as well introduce himself and made his way over to their table before taking a seat next to Assault.
"You must be Medic!" the man said. "Good to meet you. It feels good knowing we'll have a healer on board in case things get dicey."
"I am, and you must be Assault. And I assure you, I've never had a patient die on my watch," Medic said. Well, he'd never had a patient die unless he wanted them dead, but Medic didn't say that.
"That's good to hear. Usually whenever anyone gets hurt, we have to go bother Panacea. She's the healer from New Wave, I'm sure you've heard of her?" Battery asked.
Medic nodded. "Yes, I have. I'm hoping I'll be able to speak with her at some point and compare notes at some point."
"Heh, are you going to try eliminating your competition while you're at it?" Assault asked with a chuckle. Battery then kicked him under the table for his bad joke.
Medic shook his head. "No, not quite. I'm hoping she might be able to help with my research, but that depends on how exactly her power works."
Battery tilted her head. "What kind of research?"
"I'm attempting to research more about parahuman powers and how exactly they work. I was studying a blood sample I took from Lung, but noticed a few discrepancies," Medic explained, before an idea occurred to him. "Say, would either of you mind if I take a blood sample from each of you? A larger sample size should help."
Assault and Battery share a look before Assault shrugs. "Sure, I don't mind. Nothing bad could ever come from passing my blood around," he said sarcastically, prompting Battery to kick him again.
Even though he knew Assault was joking, Medic couldn't help but roll his eyes. Of course Medic couldn't do anything to cause harm with just a blood sample. He would need at least a sample of skin or hair cells to create a virus that causes discomfort, pain, or death to only the sample's donor.
Medic took blood samples from both heroes with space syringes he had in his coat before eating his meal with them. Medic found himself not minding either of them, even if Assault was a bit of an annoyance.
"It's neat that you're trying to research powers. No one's been able to learn very much about them at all, so I wish you luck," Battery said as she began to dig into her food. Medic appreciated the sentiment, but he would deny needing luck. His intellect would be sufficient.
After lunch, Medic returned to his lab to spend the next several hours analyzing his two new blood samples. Much to his annoyance, he ran into the same problem he had with Lung's blood. No traces of any signaling agents, and no genes that could encode the Corona Pollentia or Gemma.
It simply didn't make any sense! How could an organ in the brain operate without sending out signals? Medic needed to research more, but the only other avenue left to pursue was examining a parahuman's brain directly, which according to Taylor would land him in hot water with the PRT.
It may have been a mistake to throw in his lot with the PRT and Protectorate. Medic greatly enjoyed the resources that were available to him, but he was beginning to question if they were worth the limitations.
Medic was snapped out of his deliberation by a knock at his door. Medic wondered who it could be. Armsmaster, perhaps? He seemed to be the only other Protectorate hero interested in his research. "Enter!" he called out.
The door opened, and a teenage girl wearing a white medical robe with a red cross on either side stepped in. She was moderately tall and had the appearance of someone who was perpetually tired. Medic immediately recognized her as Panacea.
"Uh, hey," she said. "Is, uh, now a bad time?"
Medic and Taylor both walked out onto the stage, taking their places on either side of Director Piggot. It had been four days since the two of them had taken down Lung, and in that time, Medic had done more paperwork than he could ever remember doing in his life. It was a pain, but after Medic jumped through all the hoops of bureaucracy, he was able to begin researching everything there was to know about this world and its parahumans.
The PRT's rating and organization system for powers was fairly easy to pick up. The unwritten rules and the Endbringers were also curious. What made those creatures borderline immune to damage? The PRT had stored samples of each of them that had fallen off during battle. Maybe Medic would have to request a few of them for research in the future.
Also in those four days, both Medic's and Taylor's costumes had undergone minor alterations. Taylor's costume had mostly added color to make her look less menacing, and Medic's uniform had no changes at all outside of his pants and boots being more appropriate for combat. Medic hadn't even added a mask, despite what a few members of the PR team had suggested. Medic simply didn't see the point. He had no civilian connections and no prior identity, so why hide his face behind a stuffy face mask?
The PR team had done a complete 180 once Medic explained his reasoning. They realized that showing his face would allow Medic to seem more human or something. Medic secretly thought it funny that anyone would ever consider him a source of good PR, but he kept his mouth shut on the issue.
The PR side of the PRT also decided to announce his extradimensional origin for some reason. Medic didn't fully understand why, nor did he care. Piggot and Armsmaster were much more concerned with the details of his home world.
As it turned out, there were not very many changes from his world and this world in the 1960s. The only particularly glaring issue was the existence of Australium and how it caused Australia to become a global superpower.
Piggot wasn't very impressed when Medic explained how Australium increased health, intelligence, and strength of all those who interacted with it with no side effects other than excessive facial hair growth. She had thought Medic was full of shit until Armsmaster confirmed he was telling the truth with his lie detector.
Armsmaster thought it odd that no parahumans had appeared on Medic's Earth, but neither of them had any explanation as to why.
Well, Medic didn't have an explanation as to why yet.
Armsmaster was also very surprised Medic wasn't technically a Tinker because apparently Tinkertech was impossible to be replicated or even understood by anyone except the Tinker who built it. Armsmaster and another hero named Dragon spent several days trying to analyze his Medi Gun in hopes of replicating it, but no matter how many times or ways Medic explained it, neither was able to understand anything about his technology.
They were both frustrated that his tech seemed impossible to replicate, but Medic felt proud that his tech was so advanced it was on par with those made by superhumans. Medic wasn't technically a Tinker, but functionally, what he made was still Tinkertech.
Honestly, he felt that being a Tinker was somewhat cheating. Their powers were a massive shortcut, allowing them to not need to understand or research any type of science. At least Armsmaster and Dragon seemed educated on machinery.
"Now then, both Monarch and Medic will be accepting questions," Piggot said. After she did so, each and every member of the assembled media raised their hands and shouted out their questions, each voice piling on top of one another. Piggot pointed to one of them seemingly at random and everyone quieted down to hear the reporter ask her question.
"How exactly did the two of you defeat Lung?" she asked.
Piggot handed the microphone to Medic, apparently believing him a better person to answer. "Monarch was able to swarm Lung with insects before he could begin transforming, softening him up. I then used my Ubercharge to enhance Monarch's strength, allowing her to completely physically overpower him."
The crowd seemed equally shocked and impressed at his explanation. From what Medic could gather through his research, Lung was one of the most powerful parahumans in the city and had operated without arrest for years. For a pair of newcomers to make that long overdue arrest was apparently quite impressive.
Piggot took the microphone back. "The full details of Lung's arrest will be revealed later in the press release. Right now, we are focusing on Monarch and Medic. Next question."
"Medic, what are your thoughts on Panacea? Will you be working alongside her in the future?" the next reporter asked.
Ah yes, Panacea. She was one of the capes that had caught Medic's eye when doing his research of the local capes. The ability to heal any injury, disease, or condition, even if they were genetic, was fascinating. How exactly did she do it? Why did she have a limitation on brains? The PRT files suggested a suspicion that she wasn't being totally honest with her powers, but no one had any idea what she was hiding or why. Medic hoped he would be able to speak to her at some point to study her power a bit.
"I would certainly like to compare notes with Panacea at some point in the future. I believe that her power could help me with my experiments and inventions," Medic replied.
Medic certainly hoped Panacea would be open to helping him with his experiments and research, but he wasn't holding his breath. The girl seemed to thoroughly be a goody two shoes who only wanted to heal random people for free. To Medic, such a life sounded horribly dull. Where's the fun in repetition?
The next couple of questions were for Monarch, who answered them in a flat tone. Now that Medic was paying attention, he couldn't help but notice that she seemed upset. Medic wondered why. She seemed eager enough to join the Wards when he last spoke to her.
Eventually the questions came back to Medic. "Medic, what are your thoughts on Empire Eighty-Eight?" a reporter asked, no doubt inspired to do so by Medic's obvious accent.
Medic cleared his throat. "I understand some will be suspicious of me because of my country of origin, but I would like to make it completely clear that I have no love for fascism. The idea of there being a superior race is completely ridiculous, and it is in no way supported by science! Progress and research would be horribly dull without diversity and progress, and bigotry has only ever served as a roadblock on the path of science. I believe this city and this world would be better off without such simple minded and immature resentment."
After his brief rant, the gathered members of the media began to politely applaud him. Medic handed the microphone back to Piggot, who looked slightly pleased.
Medic and Taylor continued to answer increasingly menial questions until the press conference ended. What on Earth led them to think Monarch was his daughter? How unprofessional could they possibly be to ask Taylor if she had started a relationship with one of the other Wards?
Thankfully, Piggot ended the press conference before the questions could get any more ridiculous. After each of them had reentered the PRT HQ, Piggot gave both of them a quick word of praise before leaving. After she did, Monarch stormed off, clearly angry. Medic briefly wondered what that was all about before deciding it was none of his business.
Medic went back to his brand-new lab in the Protectorate HQ, also known as The Rig, where he had left an analysis of Lung's blood sample running. Once he arrived, he was pleased to see that the machine was finished running. Modern technology was truly making his job easier.
As Medic went over the results, however, he was puzzled to find that Lung's blood was completely normal. There were no traces of any signaling molecules connected to his transformations.
Medic didn't understand how that was possible. The Corona Pollentia and Gemma were supposed to be the sources of parahuman powers and how their users controlled them, but the brain could only order the release of hormones that would in turn elicit a response from the body. If there were no hormones, how could Lung's body transform? It didn't make any sense.
Maybe the hormones used to be there, but somehow disappeared? That didn't really make any sense. Hormones already dissolve in the bloodstream as they move throughout the body, so they couldn't have dissolved again. Maybe the process was so efficient that after Lung's transformations had reverted, the hormones left his bloodstream? That wasn't possible either, because Medic had taken his sample before Armsmaster used his tranquilizer and Lung had returned to normal.
Medic continued to analyze the blood sample, this time using a different machine to isolate Lung's DNA and compare it to a sample of his own DNA. Medic had needed to make a few improvements to this device to get it to operate on such an exact level, but it was necessary for his purposes.
As Medic continued to examine Lung's DNA, he only grew more confused. Lung's DNA reflected that of a completely baseline human. A gene related to the Corona Pollentia or Gemma was nowhere to be found.
How was that possible? Both don't appear in every human, so there must be some genetic difference between a parahuman and a regular human. But try as he might, Medic was simply unable to find a difference. Was it possible that powers weren't genetic at all? That didn't make any sense, powers come from organs in the brain. How could parahumans grow two organs in their brains and not have it be reflected in their DNA?
In order to solve this mystery, Medic would need to examine a parahuman brain directly, but according to Taylor and what he found in the PRT database, his new employers were unlikely to be pleased if he started doing surgeries.
What else could Medic do? Analyze more DNA samples? Yes, that was a good plan. A larger sample size would help confirm or deny his suspicions before he moved on to a different avenue of research.
Medic felt his stomach rumble. A glance at the clock revealed it was almost three in the afternoon. When was the last time he ate? Medic couldn't recall. He didn't have time for breakfast this morning with the press conference, and he definitely skipped lunch because he was too eager to see the results of the tests on Lung's blood.
Rather than placing Lung's blood sample and all of his equipment in storage, Medic left it out with the intention of bringing his late lunch back to his lab to continue researching as he ate. Medic then made his way to where he recalled the Rig's cafeteria was and collected a healthy meal for himself. As he turned to leave, however, his attention was captured by someone in the corner of the cafeteria waving him over. Medic recognized the man waving at him as Assault and the woman sitting across from him as Battery, the only two of his new coworkers that he had not yet been introduced to.
In the four days between meeting Armsmaster and his debut that morning, Medic was able to meet with each of the Protectorate heroes. None of them left much of an impression, and Medic was pleased to note that none of them seemed very interested in Medic's experiments, which was just fine by him. He hadn't yet had the pleasure of meeting Assault or Battery, but from what he had heard of the two, the former was a joker kept in check by the latter.
Medic decided he might as well introduce himself and made his way over to their table before taking a seat next to Assault.
"You must be Medic!" the man said. "Good to meet you. It feels good knowing we'll have a healer on board in case things get dicey."
"I am, and you must be Assault. And I assure you, I've never had a patient die on my watch," Medic said. Well, he'd never had a patient die unless he wanted them dead, but Medic didn't say that.
"That's good to hear. Usually whenever anyone gets hurt, we have to go bother Panacea. She's the healer from New Wave, I'm sure you've heard of her?" Battery asked.
Medic nodded. "Yes, I have. I'm hoping I'll be able to speak with her at some point and compare notes at some point."
"Heh, are you going to try eliminating your competition while you're at it?" Assault asked with a chuckle. Battery then kicked him under the table for his bad joke.
Medic shook his head. "No, not quite. I'm hoping she might be able to help with my research, but that depends on how exactly her power works."
Battery tilted her head. "What kind of research?"
"I'm attempting to research more about parahuman powers and how exactly they work. I was studying a blood sample I took from Lung, but noticed a few discrepancies," Medic explained, before an idea occurred to him. "Say, would either of you mind if I take a blood sample from each of you? A larger sample size should help."
Assault and Battery share a look before Assault shrugs. "Sure, I don't mind. Nothing bad could ever come from passing my blood around," he said sarcastically, prompting Battery to kick him again.
Even though he knew Assault was joking, Medic couldn't help but roll his eyes. Of course Medic couldn't do anything to cause harm with just a blood sample. He would need at least a sample of skin or hair cells to create a virus that causes discomfort, pain, or death to only the sample's donor.
Medic took blood samples from both heroes with space syringes he had in his coat before eating his meal with them. Medic found himself not minding either of them, even if Assault was a bit of an annoyance.
"It's neat that you're trying to research powers. No one's been able to learn very much about them at all, so I wish you luck," Battery said as she began to dig into her food. Medic appreciated the sentiment, but he would deny needing luck. His intellect would be sufficient.
After lunch, Medic returned to his lab to spend the next several hours analyzing his two new blood samples. Much to his annoyance, he ran into the same problem he had with Lung's blood. No traces of any signaling agents, and no genes that could encode the Corona Pollentia or Gemma.
It simply didn't make any sense! How could an organ in the brain operate without sending out signals? Medic needed to research more, but the only other avenue left to pursue was examining a parahuman's brain directly, which according to Taylor would land him in hot water with the PRT.
It may have been a mistake to throw in his lot with the PRT and Protectorate. Medic greatly enjoyed the resources that were available to him, but he was beginning to question if they were worth the limitations.
Medic was snapped out of his deliberation by a knock at his door. Medic wondered who it could be. Armsmaster, perhaps? He seemed to be the only other Protectorate hero interested in his research. "Enter!" he called out.
The door opened, and a teenage girl wearing a white medical robe with a red cross on either side stepped in. She was moderately tall and had the appearance of someone who was perpetually tired. Medic immediately recognized her as Panacea.
"Uh, hey," she said. "Is, uh, now a bad time?"
Inspection 1.A
The8BitzySpider
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When Amy had heard about the new medical Tinker that had joined the Protectorate, her first reaction was jealousy.
She had to spend hours monotonously healing people every day for years, and this guy could just build a device to do it for him? And he didn't have to worry about being perceived as the next coming of Nilbog? How was that fair?!
Why did she have to be the one with these powers? She had often fantasized about triggering with different powers, but guilt always stopped her. If there wasn't a Panacea, how many people would die? However, if she had Medic's powers, all of her problems would be solved and she would still be able to heal people.
Amy quickly realized that her line of thinking wasn't fair or heroic, but she couldn't help how she felt. That was why when the PRT asked her to come in to ensure Medic's tech didn't have any side effects, she decided to take advantage of the opportunity to meet him as well. Maybe he'd be such a nice guy that Amy can't help but like him. Hell, maybe he'd be a friend. It would be nice to have someone in the cape life that knew something about her work.
That afternoon, Amy found herself entering a shiny new lab on the Rig. The lab was obviously new, with several machines and pieces of equipment showing no signs of ever having been used. The exception to this was a small collection of equipment gathered on one side of the lab, including a large device that resembled a proton blaster from Ghostbusters.
Standing before all of this equipment, an unassuming man stood in a white medical coat. Honestly, the man wouldn't look out of place at the hospital, if not for the light scowl he was wearing.
Oh, had Amy interrupted his work? Way to make a good first impression! "Uh, hey," she said. "Is, uh, now a bad time?"
The man seemed to notice he was scowling just then and allowed his face to relax. "Ah, my apologies, my experiments aren't going as well as I'd hoped. Now is a fine time," he said with a thick German accent. "I'm Medic, and you must be Panacea."
"Yeah, good to meet you." Amy said. "Experiments?"
Her mind immediately shot to her experimenting with her power.
"What kind of experiments?" she asked.
Medic gestured to his work and beckoned her over. Amy approached his worktable to see a trio of blood vials as well as two machines.
"I'm trying to learn more about powers, but I'm having trouble. Blood samples from Lung, Assault and Battery show no evidence of parahuman powers, either in the form of signaling molecules or DNA alterations," Medic explained.
Amy glanced at Medic. He seemed excited to share his findings, even if they were so far miniscule. It reminded her of Victoria talking about fashion in how passionate he was. The difference here was that she could contribute more to the discussion than a nod or a "that looks nice."
"What do you mean no evidence? Lung turns into a dragon, that seems like evidence enough."
"Ah, I misspoke. I meant biological evidence. Yes, Lung turns into a dragon, but how does he do it?"
"The Corona Pollentia," Amy answered.
"Perhaps. I've yet to analyze one, so I cannot yet say, but the Corona Pollentia is an organ in the brain. The brain can't do anything but release signals into the bloodstream, which would in turn elicit a reaction," Medic explained.
"So, the Corona just releases hormones then, right? Unless… are you saying it doesn't?"
Medic nodded and smiled excitedly. "Yes, exactly! From what I've found so far, the functions of parahuman powers are not based on biology whatsoever."
"Well, yeah. Most powers aren't based on biology. How does freezing something in time or flying around at will relate to biology? Pretty much all powers break reality to some degree," Amy explained.
"But why then is there an organ in the brain? The fact that powers are related to organs suggests some level of biological function."
Amy went to reply but stopped herself. That… was a really good point. Everyone kind of accepted that powers were "just like that" whenever something crazy or nonsensical happened. Science simply had no explanation, despite scientists around the world working to prove otherwise.
Amy had never heard of a Tinker working on it, though. Maybe he'd have more luck?
"So, what are you going to do next?" she asked.
"The only thing left to analyze is the Corona Pollentia itself. Surgery is obviously out of the question, but perhaps an MRI could reveal brain activity and give me a hint as to where to look next."
Amy froze slightly at the mention of the brain. She could help, if she wanted. Amy had never noticed anything peculiar about the Corona whenever she healed a parahuman, but then again, she was always actively trying to ignore the brain whenever she healed someone. What would she find if she actively looked.
Maybe she could tell Medic that even though she couldn't change brains, she could look at them? That should ensure her cover stayed secure and stop him from asking any questions while ensuring she would get to take part in his experiments.
Wait, what was she saying? She couldn't help him with this! She came here to talk about medicine and healing, not experiments to discover the secrets of parahumans!
Besides, even if she wanted to, she didn't have the time! Any time she spent on this was time she wasn't spending healing. Carol would never allow it. The whole reason Carol allowed her to come in the first place was to allow her to "make connections" or something, not waste her time with this.
Amy had to admit, at least to herself, that she was sick of healing, but she had to. It wasn't just Carol's demands, Amy healed because she had to. How could she possibly think of herself as a good person if innocent people died and she did nothing to stop it? She couldn't have hobbies because she had to be at the hospital, and it wasn't like she could heal people remotely.
As soon as she finished that thought, a light bulb went off in her head. Amy glanced at the Medigun.
She couldn't heal remotely, but Medic could.
An idea quickly began to form in Amy's head. "You know, I think I could help with that."
Medic raised an eyebrow, curious. "How so?"
"My power gives me information on whoever I touch so I know where to heal them," she explained, only half-lying. "I can't heal brains, but I can see them."
Medic immediately caught on to what she was saying. "And that would allow you to function in place of an MRI machine."
"No, better than an MRI. I can see exactly what the signals are and where they're going." And also change them, but no one had to know that.
"That would be excellent!" Medic said, growing excited. "If the function is biological, then we would know! That's the perfect solution!"
Amy raised her hand to stop him. "Wait, there's something I want in return."
"Ah, yes, of course. What can I help you with?" Medic asked.
Amy hesitated for a moment. Is she really going to drag a stranger into her family business like this?
Who was she kidding? To get out of the hospital? To have a life? The answer was obvious.
"Carol, uh, that's my mom, she forces me to volunteer at the hospital and heal people a lot. I don't mind," Amy was quick to add, "but it's gotten… boring. Very boring. I'm sick of it, but I don't think I could sleep at night knowing people were dying and I could've done something about it."
Medic's face scrunched up to show his discontent at the idea. "You heal people all day for free?" he asked. At her nod, he scoffed. "Yes, I can imagine why that would be boring."
"Yeah! But if my job were to be automated..." she said.
"Then you would have your free time back and the patients at the hospital would still be treated," Medic said.
Yes, exactly. Amy had been jealous of Medic's power at first because it was a convenient solution to all of her problems, but just because she didn't have the Tinker power didn't mean she couldn't take advantage of it anyways.
"And you would get my help with your research!" Amy added. "Everybody wins!"
Well, except Carol and New Wave. Her image was a large part of New Wave's and was most of the reason they got funding via donations. Whenever she healed someone that was feeling particularly generous, their payments always went to New Wave. If she stopped healing, New Wave's image would be damaged, but who cared? New Wave barely had any presence anymore outside of her and Vicky. What was there to even spend the New Wave money on anyways? Carol and Aunt Sarah both had well-paying jobs.
Medic hummed for a minute, pondering. "I suppose I could build another device similar to my Medigun, but simplified enough to be operated by regular doctors," he said. "And you'll help me with my experiments?"
"If you can do this, I will help you with any experiments or research you ask," Amy promised.
Medic nodded and smiled as Amy breathed a massive sigh of relief within her mind. Holy shit, it worked!
"Yes, the deal sounds fair to me," Medic said, offering a handshake. "I think this will be the start of a wonderful relationship."
Amy took the hand and shook. As soon as Medic finished his healing device for the hospital, she was free.
And for what cost? The reputation and financing of New Wave? They barely did anything as New Wave anymore! That didn't even count!
Oh yeah, and she had to help Medic with some simple experiments, but how bad could that possibly be?
She had to spend hours monotonously healing people every day for years, and this guy could just build a device to do it for him? And he didn't have to worry about being perceived as the next coming of Nilbog? How was that fair?!
Why did she have to be the one with these powers? She had often fantasized about triggering with different powers, but guilt always stopped her. If there wasn't a Panacea, how many people would die? However, if she had Medic's powers, all of her problems would be solved and she would still be able to heal people.
Amy quickly realized that her line of thinking wasn't fair or heroic, but she couldn't help how she felt. That was why when the PRT asked her to come in to ensure Medic's tech didn't have any side effects, she decided to take advantage of the opportunity to meet him as well. Maybe he'd be such a nice guy that Amy can't help but like him. Hell, maybe he'd be a friend. It would be nice to have someone in the cape life that knew something about her work.
That afternoon, Amy found herself entering a shiny new lab on the Rig. The lab was obviously new, with several machines and pieces of equipment showing no signs of ever having been used. The exception to this was a small collection of equipment gathered on one side of the lab, including a large device that resembled a proton blaster from Ghostbusters.
Standing before all of this equipment, an unassuming man stood in a white medical coat. Honestly, the man wouldn't look out of place at the hospital, if not for the light scowl he was wearing.
Oh, had Amy interrupted his work? Way to make a good first impression! "Uh, hey," she said. "Is, uh, now a bad time?"
The man seemed to notice he was scowling just then and allowed his face to relax. "Ah, my apologies, my experiments aren't going as well as I'd hoped. Now is a fine time," he said with a thick German accent. "I'm Medic, and you must be Panacea."
"Yeah, good to meet you." Amy said. "Experiments?"
Her mind immediately shot to her experimenting with her power.
"What kind of experiments?" she asked.
Medic gestured to his work and beckoned her over. Amy approached his worktable to see a trio of blood vials as well as two machines.
"I'm trying to learn more about powers, but I'm having trouble. Blood samples from Lung, Assault and Battery show no evidence of parahuman powers, either in the form of signaling molecules or DNA alterations," Medic explained.
Amy glanced at Medic. He seemed excited to share his findings, even if they were so far miniscule. It reminded her of Victoria talking about fashion in how passionate he was. The difference here was that she could contribute more to the discussion than a nod or a "that looks nice."
"What do you mean no evidence? Lung turns into a dragon, that seems like evidence enough."
"Ah, I misspoke. I meant biological evidence. Yes, Lung turns into a dragon, but how does he do it?"
"The Corona Pollentia," Amy answered.
"Perhaps. I've yet to analyze one, so I cannot yet say, but the Corona Pollentia is an organ in the brain. The brain can't do anything but release signals into the bloodstream, which would in turn elicit a reaction," Medic explained.
"So, the Corona just releases hormones then, right? Unless… are you saying it doesn't?"
Medic nodded and smiled excitedly. "Yes, exactly! From what I've found so far, the functions of parahuman powers are not based on biology whatsoever."
"Well, yeah. Most powers aren't based on biology. How does freezing something in time or flying around at will relate to biology? Pretty much all powers break reality to some degree," Amy explained.
"But why then is there an organ in the brain? The fact that powers are related to organs suggests some level of biological function."
Amy went to reply but stopped herself. That… was a really good point. Everyone kind of accepted that powers were "just like that" whenever something crazy or nonsensical happened. Science simply had no explanation, despite scientists around the world working to prove otherwise.
Amy had never heard of a Tinker working on it, though. Maybe he'd have more luck?
"So, what are you going to do next?" she asked.
"The only thing left to analyze is the Corona Pollentia itself. Surgery is obviously out of the question, but perhaps an MRI could reveal brain activity and give me a hint as to where to look next."
Amy froze slightly at the mention of the brain. She could help, if she wanted. Amy had never noticed anything peculiar about the Corona whenever she healed a parahuman, but then again, she was always actively trying to ignore the brain whenever she healed someone. What would she find if she actively looked.
Maybe she could tell Medic that even though she couldn't change brains, she could look at them? That should ensure her cover stayed secure and stop him from asking any questions while ensuring she would get to take part in his experiments.
Wait, what was she saying? She couldn't help him with this! She came here to talk about medicine and healing, not experiments to discover the secrets of parahumans!
Besides, even if she wanted to, she didn't have the time! Any time she spent on this was time she wasn't spending healing. Carol would never allow it. The whole reason Carol allowed her to come in the first place was to allow her to "make connections" or something, not waste her time with this.
Amy had to admit, at least to herself, that she was sick of healing, but she had to. It wasn't just Carol's demands, Amy healed because she had to. How could she possibly think of herself as a good person if innocent people died and she did nothing to stop it? She couldn't have hobbies because she had to be at the hospital, and it wasn't like she could heal people remotely.
As soon as she finished that thought, a light bulb went off in her head. Amy glanced at the Medigun.
She couldn't heal remotely, but Medic could.
An idea quickly began to form in Amy's head. "You know, I think I could help with that."
Medic raised an eyebrow, curious. "How so?"
"My power gives me information on whoever I touch so I know where to heal them," she explained, only half-lying. "I can't heal brains, but I can see them."
Medic immediately caught on to what she was saying. "And that would allow you to function in place of an MRI machine."
"No, better than an MRI. I can see exactly what the signals are and where they're going." And also change them, but no one had to know that.
"That would be excellent!" Medic said, growing excited. "If the function is biological, then we would know! That's the perfect solution!"
Amy raised her hand to stop him. "Wait, there's something I want in return."
"Ah, yes, of course. What can I help you with?" Medic asked.
Amy hesitated for a moment. Is she really going to drag a stranger into her family business like this?
Who was she kidding? To get out of the hospital? To have a life? The answer was obvious.
"Carol, uh, that's my mom, she forces me to volunteer at the hospital and heal people a lot. I don't mind," Amy was quick to add, "but it's gotten… boring. Very boring. I'm sick of it, but I don't think I could sleep at night knowing people were dying and I could've done something about it."
Medic's face scrunched up to show his discontent at the idea. "You heal people all day for free?" he asked. At her nod, he scoffed. "Yes, I can imagine why that would be boring."
"Yeah! But if my job were to be automated..." she said.
"Then you would have your free time back and the patients at the hospital would still be treated," Medic said.
Yes, exactly. Amy had been jealous of Medic's power at first because it was a convenient solution to all of her problems, but just because she didn't have the Tinker power didn't mean she couldn't take advantage of it anyways.
"And you would get my help with your research!" Amy added. "Everybody wins!"
Well, except Carol and New Wave. Her image was a large part of New Wave's and was most of the reason they got funding via donations. Whenever she healed someone that was feeling particularly generous, their payments always went to New Wave. If she stopped healing, New Wave's image would be damaged, but who cared? New Wave barely had any presence anymore outside of her and Vicky. What was there to even spend the New Wave money on anyways? Carol and Aunt Sarah both had well-paying jobs.
Medic hummed for a minute, pondering. "I suppose I could build another device similar to my Medigun, but simplified enough to be operated by regular doctors," he said. "And you'll help me with my experiments?"
"If you can do this, I will help you with any experiments or research you ask," Amy promised.
Medic nodded and smiled as Amy breathed a massive sigh of relief within her mind. Holy shit, it worked!
"Yes, the deal sounds fair to me," Medic said, offering a handshake. "I think this will be the start of a wonderful relationship."
Amy took the hand and shook. As soon as Medic finished his healing device for the hospital, she was free.
And for what cost? The reputation and financing of New Wave? They barely did anything as New Wave anymore! That didn't even count!
Oh yeah, and she had to help Medic with some simple experiments, but how bad could that possibly be?
The8BitzySpider
Not too sore, are you?
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Someone recommended I do so, so this story has been crossposted here from Spacebattles. Future updates will release here at the same time as Spacebattles.
John Jones III
Getting sticky.
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the thread marks are not in order, I was really confused when medic was running from an alley towards a fire then suddenly talking to armsmaster
The8BitzySpider
Not too sore, are you?
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Fuck oops
The8BitzySpider
Not too sore, are you?
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There threadmarks are fixed
monkeyman9835
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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well this is watched. Medic is easily my favorite character from TFT 2 so itll be great to see him do stuff
Faber_The_Builder
Muchkin of Megastructures
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Love the premise. I love it! Just a question...is the deal with the Devil canon here? Can the Devil reach him on Bet? Does the "Resurrection" function of the Medigun work? I look forward to updates.
TFC!
TFC!
The Overlord
SCIENCE! both mad, mundane, and perverted
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Medic is truly a great area of potential for fanfiction and im glad its being brought up by someone in writing.
Sidenote there is some things Medic is unable to fix, like Cancer so there would still be alot of demand for Panacea, but arguably at least enough of a dent will be made in the endless workload she will at least be able to take BREAKS maybe even the forbidden DAYS OFF.
Sidenote there is some things Medic is unable to fix, like Cancer so there would still be alot of demand for Panacea, but arguably at least enough of a dent will be made in the endless workload she will at least be able to take BREAKS maybe even the forbidden DAYS OFF.
Cutest_Bunny
Getting sticky.
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I really like this, it's super creative! Can't wait for more! XD
I hope he has a positive effect even if he's definitely crazy. He definitely cared for the other mercs, but I think that was partly the fact that they willingly aloud him to experiment on them. (They were all crazy lol) And I think it was also the fact that they saved his life countless times and vice versa. Plus with Engineer I think it was a fair amount of respect, I think Engineer was one of the few people he considered an intellectual equal. I personally think the Medic is mildly antisocial and narcissistic, (narcissistic about his intelligence or would that be a slight superiority complex?) and possibly obsessive, with his work and research.
One does not become a mercenary if they are normal or mentally stable.
But he is capable of forming "positive relationships" or at least the closest thing to that considering his madness. Point in case his team.
Though a large part of that is that all of his other teammates were definitely crazy as well. A good example of that is what kind of lunatics allow a licenseless crazy doctor to replace their organs with animal parts and untested highly experimental technology. Though Pyro was definitely the craziest.
Also as far as doctors go (from the perspective of an actual IRL medical technician) his Bedside Manner is actually pretty good for a Mad Scientist, seriously he has a good charisma compared to most IRL doctors which actually makes him more terrifying in retrospect.
Anyway I absolutely loved this and can't wait for more! XD
I hope he has a positive effect even if he's definitely crazy. He definitely cared for the other mercs, but I think that was partly the fact that they willingly aloud him to experiment on them. (They were all crazy lol) And I think it was also the fact that they saved his life countless times and vice versa. Plus with Engineer I think it was a fair amount of respect, I think Engineer was one of the few people he considered an intellectual equal. I personally think the Medic is mildly antisocial and narcissistic, (narcissistic about his intelligence or would that be a slight superiority complex?) and possibly obsessive, with his work and research.
One does not become a mercenary if they are normal or mentally stable.
But he is capable of forming "positive relationships" or at least the closest thing to that considering his madness. Point in case his team.
Though a large part of that is that all of his other teammates were definitely crazy as well. A good example of that is what kind of lunatics allow a licenseless crazy doctor to replace their organs with animal parts and untested highly experimental technology. Though Pyro was definitely the craziest.
Also as far as doctors go (from the perspective of an actual IRL medical technician) his Bedside Manner is actually pretty good for a Mad Scientist, seriously he has a good charisma compared to most IRL doctors which actually makes him more terrifying in retrospect.
Anyway I absolutely loved this and can't wait for more! XD
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Kerrowe
Getting sticky.
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After a brain scanning.
The next closest legal thing would be an Autopsy.
The next actual best thing Medic might want would be cracking a skull open on a live one.
He'd make sure it isn't fatal while he checks it.
I didn't see on SB but I'll at least follow it here.
NorrisStock
Getting some practice in, huh?
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Rule 7: Don't Necro
Let's do it already 
JohnWolfie34
(Verified Idiot) (Verified Xenophile)
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Okay, I don't know much about TF2, but I REALLY like where this story is heading!
I'm sure Taylor will end up coming to him when she snaps from all the repressed rage and feelings of betrayal, because if you can't trust the person who saved your life without asking for anything in return, then who CAN you trust?
And if Queenie influences Taylor to stay close to him to get all that delicious DATA he will likely keep creating, then EVERYBODY can be happy!
(except the PRT, gangs, and Coil, but f' those morons)
I'm sure Taylor will end up coming to him when she snaps from all the repressed rage and feelings of betrayal, because if you can't trust the person who saved your life without asking for anything in return, then who CAN you trust?
And if Queenie influences Taylor to stay close to him to get all that delicious DATA he will likely keep creating, then EVERYBODY can be happy!
(except the PRT, gangs, and Coil, but f' those morons)
Megaolix
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