[@Crimmy]

[b]Luke Schwarz: Armory, Not [i]As[/i] Early Morning[/b]

My head was pretty much abuzz with thought and speculation by the time I stepped through the armory doorway and into the single largest concentration of firepower I had witnessed since Dad had taken me to the Police Department's indoor range on Marksmanship testing day, or however they called it.

Well, that was overselling it a little, considering we didn't have firearms lining the walls or anything, but the campus kept the guns somewhere and it tended to like having them near the melee weaponry.

It made sense, given how often the two mixed together in the kinds of experimental nonsense you would consider best left to an anime aimed at eleven year-olds. After all, it was practically blasphemous for a Hunter or Huntress to have a weapon that didn't do [i]something[/i] crazy.

Speaking of somethings: Has [i]something[/i] gotten into me today?

Well, anyways, though it didn't look it, I intellectually [i]knew[/i] it, and since I'm the type of person where space for things to be intellectually [i]known[/i] is at a premium, I made sure it paid rent and reminded me about it.

[b]"Morning."[/b] I said to the lilac-haired, twintailed girl across from me as I plopped down at one of the many empty workbenches. She was short, cute, and...

[i]That[/i] was funny. I looked back up at her as I commanded my watch to shift roles from "timekeeper" to "hand protection" to "hand protection [i]as designed by a tunneling enthousiast[/i]". 

And familiar.

Had I seen this girl before?

I frowned to myself, but looked back down as I pried my hand out of the watch-turned-weapon and tried to shrug it off. It was impolite to stare, for one. For two, I had seen more cute girls than I could ever hope to count whilst roaming Beacon's halls, and while I had to admit that she was more familiar than "random blonde with drills drillier than the thing I'm disassembling #37", that could be because of any number of reasons.

We shared a class. Or a dorm wing. Or a habit of circumstantially being in the same place a lot. That'd even explain the distinct sense of recency that came with her being so familiar. 

There was no way in hell she had relived being a Berserk fan with Jericho, Bianca, Gratia, Beryl, and I this weekend. That would be a ridiculous coincidence that even I, notorious dullard, would not buy for a second.

It was simply Deja Vu.

I'd just been in this place before.

HIGHER ON THE STREET,

[i]AND I KNOW IT'S MY TIME TO GO~[/i]

As if on automatic, my palms come up to lightly smack focus back into my mind, using my own temples as conduits. It was a trick Tanner had taught me, the sort of which was a lot simpler than he actually explained it. What had he said? Something about minding your head when using your hands? I didn't remember, and I honestly didn't really care to. He was family and I loved him, but he was also the vaguest bastard I had ever met, in a list that included [i]Jericho Piper before he judged me as worthy of mission info.[/i]

...I couldn't help but worry that this was coming from something deep-seeded (or seated? [i]I'm not good with words[/i]) within the psyche.

Brain problems after, what, a week? Two? Man, I bet I [i]still[/i] spoiled a wager back home.

...Well, it was a Hunting Academy I was in. We probably all needed some sort of help. Psychologically, not just with keeping up with on-level course curriculum like me. I'm a bit special in that regard. Yay~

I shoved those thoughts aside and got to work, fishing out allen wrenches and screwdrivers of various types from the meticulously organized shelves before turning them upon my own weapon with a singular purpose: take the whole thing apart. Wanton destruction, which undoubtedly would have happened had my mother not seen fit to teach me anything, wasn't the goal. Rather, I was doing a little [i]deconstruction[/i]. It was [i]very[/i] different and much more on-purpose than the former. One thing in particular I wanted to get a distinct understanding of before I moved forward with the Great Schwarz Re-armament Plan.

...

...

...

I put down the wrench and brought a hand to my chin, words flowing out of my mouth in unbidden, stream-of-consciousness thought.

[b]"Huh. I'm planning things."[/b]

It was as if a lightbulb had gone off and shown me [i]A Starry Night[/i] where before I had assumed there to be a baby picture.

[b]"I should eat breakfast more often."[/b]

The part of me that was still the same old conscientious and self-aware Luke felt sorry for the poor girl on the other side of the room. I must have been making things horrendously embarrassing. I promise, lady, I'm not usually this weird.

Just the normal amount.

Shaking my head, I shut myself up and got back to work, carefully removing a layer of plate armor that rested above the mechanism I was looking for. If I wanted to go forward with this plan, I needed to make sure I understood a crucial aspect of what I had [i]here[/i] that could make or break my choice in weaponry for [i]later[/i].

... Didn't that girl have something long and polearmy with her? If she stuck around, I'd have to ask her about her thoughts on what I was thinking of.

Now then, to put my head to good use for a change—

How [i]exactly[/i] did this drill [i]work?[/i]