The Clockwork Man was making the finishing touches to his own body and trying out his new trousers when the Mystan second, the Elder’s protégé, walked into his small workshop. He was a nervous, tall individual, who walked with a bird-like gait and rubbed his hands together when talking. He was also no short of a genius, something which the Clockwork Man had quickly discovered. The deal between him and the Mystans of the settlement was fairly simplistic, they would provide him with the computerised technology he required, he would provide them with a small sample of Elmorium. It was a good deal, for both sides.

“Ehm, Mr Clockwork.” The Mystan, known as Eldri, said as he entered the room.

“Yes Eldri?” George asked, turning from his mirror just in time for the Mystan to observe the metal of his face apparently closing the damaged rending of its own accord. It was a disconcerting sight, even for the Mystan.

“With the Elder gone… well, no one here had the skill to finish what you wanted from us, the Complex Matrix, I’m sorry.”

“I see.” The Clockwork Man said shortly, looking down at the shining Clockwork Spider in the corner of the room. Oddly, the strange creature was his oldest friend, it had been with him through thick and thin, now he was discovering it could never be given the sentience he desired.

“However, we’ve been able to finish the V.I programming, and it should be more than functional from a practical sense. I couldn’t say for certain if it’s going to work on this –ship- you speak of, but it’s probably the most advanced thing to come from Mystique in one hundred years, even before the wars.”

“That… will have to do.” The Clockwork Man said, resting one hand lightly on the spider. “How long will it take?”

“We can implement it in a few hours, if you’d just allow me to-“ The Clockwork Man stood and walked over to his second desk, where he was working on more explosives. He still had ample supplies of all his other equipment, so that was no worry, but he could finish another two plasma grenades in the time it took the Mystan to implement the A.I feature to his spider. The Mystan took the hint and sat at his original seat, taking a strange squared off piece of tech from his belt and preparing to work it into the advanced circuitry of the spider. The sound of drills and lasers echoed from the small workshop for the next two and a half hours…

It was early morning when the Clockwork Man left the settlement, hopefully not for good, with all his equipment returned to him. The new and improved Clockwork Spider rested on his back, dreaming metal dreams. He envied it; there was no resting for him, not anymore. He strode across the wastes like a man possessed, every so often staring out into the dim sky as if to find the ones he sought. He needed the Elder, he was inherent in his plans, if he was ever to get what he wanted he needed the fully functioning Complex Matrix, but for now what he had would suffice. For the first step of his plan at the very least, and it would be more than enough for him to deal with the interlopers, for he had accurately summarised a faction had made off with the Elder now. The Mystan’s Broken defences had been damaged, but they still had surveillance, they could track every foe who entered their homes. They watched them… saw them off into the night sky.

It took him the better part of the day, even at the running speed he could perpetually maintain, to reach the crash site. The strange alien craft he had discovered immediately on reaching Mystique, the place where he had received the gift of Elmorium. It was here… with the new Spider, that he could reach out into the stars, and re-capture the hope plucked from his fingers.

"Well... That's no good." From where he stood on the roof of the first international bank, Arthur Greystoke, or as he was more commonly known in this particular outfit "The Watchman" (who the hell comes up with names like that?), could see that several pieces of the city below had gone missing. Not destroyed or vaporized or anything like that, but just gone. There one second, big round hole the next. And right in the center of it all, stood a boy who had to be no older than fifteen. A boy whose outstretched hands seemed to herald the impending nothingnessization of another fifty foot swath of city. Cops and their SWAT teams disappeared by the dozens, and the bullets they shot at the kid did the same by the hundreds. Half the time he wasn't even looking when the bullets disappeared. Which, Arty figured, meant that shooting the kid from up on the roof was out. "Yeah. No good at all."

At least he had his armor. Though it was more of a second skin really. Thanks to the synthetic muscle fibers, it moved flawlessly along with him, contracting and expanding to boost his own natural strength to superhuman levels, and that was what he relied on at the current moment as he leaned forward off the roof. He fell with the grace of an aerialist as his body pivoted on his toes, which barely still touched the corner of the roof. As soon as he hit horizontal, his legs contracted like coiled springs and sprung open an instant later, driving him through the air toward a spot of ground just behind the kid with the nothingness-generating hands. He landed hands first and tucked into a roll, both the armor and his nearly unbreakable bones absorbing the tremendous impact with no harm done as his right hand swept a sword free of its sheath. The blade came up, then down and back as it aimed to bisect the teen from shoulder to hip, but it never got the chance. Apparently, there was some danger sense involved, because the next thing Arty knew, he was being swallowed up by one of those bubbles of nothingness, and the kid hadn't even had the chance to twitch a muscle.

Three cheers for involuntary defenses.

---

Astoundingly enough, becoming nothing actually wasn't as final as it sounds. Instead of waking up to the great beyond or in the middle of a raging inferno or just not at all, Arty found himself skidding to a stop in front of what appeared to be at first glance some kind of wreckage. A second glance as the dust settled revealed no new revelations, and Arty was forced to conclude that it was indeed some kind of wreckage. The question now, was wreckage of what? And why the hell wasn't he dead? And where the hell is he, now that he's not dead? Turning slowly in a circle revealed only a diverse array of flora that he'd never seen before, and quite a lot of wasteland. "Huh..." He slid the sword back into the sheath on his back, and climbed up to a higher vantage point on the wreckage to see if he could see what a sailor would see. He couldn't. No oceans in sight.

The Clockwork Man was sitting atop one of the angular, curved wings of the sleak crescent shaped ship. Up close, it was made of a dark metal with grooves, and seemed suspiciously undamaged by what must have been a catastrophic collision with the ground. In actuality, the ship was made of the exact same alloy that the automaton was made from, the mysterious semi-sentient metal he had dubbed ‘Elmorium’.

It was roughly 100 feet in diameter, not large by any means, and it had one small door-sized opening at its back for passengers. The spider was currently inside; rewiring complex technology the Clockwork Man himself had no familiarity with, though he probed it with his own magic to begin to correct that ignorance. It was late afternoon, by his reckoning, so he had no particular reason to be alert, but old habits die hard. That was why, with a sound like a significant amount of air being suddenly displaced, the Clockwork Man immediately caught on to the interlopers arrival.

Sat on the sloping wing, his head slowly raised upwards with little to no alarm, and a few moments later the new arrival crested the top of his ship, which bulged significantly and then ran down to the half-buried wing the Clockwork Man himself sat upon. He had been concealed up until that point by the significant obstruction of the ship, but with his new vantage point there was no way for the automaton to remain concealed.

“Ah, a Human.” The Clockwork Man observed in his grating, dry, mechanical voice. He continued to look up at the human, still remaining seated on the wing, bending his head back to observe him.

“Welcome to Mystique.” Was all the Clockwork Man said, as he returned to staring off in the distance, leaving the man standing above and behind him on top of his space ship.

Mystique. Interesting choice of name for a place. Implies some sort of cryptic side that you won't see coming until it's too late. Figures. He jumped off the body of the craft to land on the wing, then took a seat next to the robotic sounding fellow. "I'm Greystoke. Any idea how I get out of here?" His own voice came out somewhat mechanized through his mask's filters, but the other man already somehow knew he was human, so that wouldn't be fooling anybody. He held his hand out in the typical human gesture of greeting, that being the "handshake", then lowered it again a few moments later regardless of whether the robot took it or not. Or at least Arty assumed he was a robot. His neural signature was off the charts for a human, so unless he was like Arty himself, he had to be some kind of robot. Same with the one below. Lots of electrical signals traveling to and fro.

The fact that they were also sitting on what appeared to be some kind of ship hadn't escaped the notice of the super-powered human, and solid deductive reasoning skills quickly made it apparent that this robot man was probably his best bet for getting out of this place. It wasn't as reassuring a thought as it probably should have been though, since he had no idea where he'd end up even if he did get out of here. Knowing his luck, probably some place worse.

The Clockwork Man was not alarmed when the human suddenly jumped down to sit beside him. He didn’t even turn, though he was fairly confident he could draw the pistol with his right hand if necessary, and the human had decided to sit on his left. As an added precaution, he continued his magical analysis of his potential enemy’s equipment with his Technomancy, though he didn’t probe too far, there was no reason to seem hostile.

“Greystoke?” The Clockwork Man asked half quizzically, though with many of his verbalised questions it was mostly a question for himself. The Automaton turned his head when the human moved and seized the offered hand, the action bringing up a host of memories he thought were long dead. His grip was firm, but he shook quickly and returned his hand to rest upon the plane wing.

“Mr.Clockwork.” He told him in return for the offered information, though he did not so quickly offer an answer to the man’s question. Turning back to regard the wasteland, and the setting sun, he allowed a few moments to pass by in silence. The slight breeze tugged at the corners of his Victorian age jacket, and whipped the bottoms of his new black trousers. Underneath only cool metal remained, unperturbed by the elements around it. The Clockwork Man was dead to the outside world, and to the sensations he once loved.

Finally, he decided to lay down the very basics, deciding it was the least he could do for someone in need, it wouldn’t do him any harm after all.

“This world is connected to a focal point known as the Nexus. Somewhere, the indigenous people may know where, is a one-way portal off this planet.” He spoke confidently, though distractedly, his attention more focused on the ship and the spider below.

"I see." He looked out across the wasteland as he waited for a reply, and an endless expanse of desolation was all that greeted his eyes. No sign of any natives. He also didn't have the satellites he did back home, which meant no uplink, no map, no GPS, and no way of finding the locals. It was right about now that Arty was beginning to regret not learning more about geography and navigation. Even if he was pointed in the right direction, it would probably take him days to find the nearest town. Superpowered brain? Check. Genius IQ? Check. Designer of technology years ahead of its time? Check. Navigator? If only. And he didn't particularly fancy the idea of having to take an on the spot crash course. "So what's your little buddy down inside up to?" He turned his head to the right and watched Mr. Clockwork contemplate whatever it was he was contemplating. "My bet would be fixing this ship we're sitting on. Any chance a guy could catch a ride? I'd prefer the certainty of having a ship to the maybe of finding a portal that goes to a random somewhere else. You can understand that, right?"

The Clockwork Man was relatively taken aback, though upon further inspection he was fairly quickly able to identify how the human knew about the spider working in secret below them.

“I understand.” The Clockwork Man said in reply, his hand moving slowly to the pistol he had holstered, there was no harm in being cautious. “But I don’t trust you.” Though his actions seemed slow and deliberate at best, the Automaton’s mind was working at a fair rate of knots. George Elmore, the scientist who had become the metallic man known as the Clockwork Man today, still retained all of his old smarts, albeit in a more abstract form than before. Even without a brain to case it his formidable mind could be brought to bear on situations such as these.

Another few precious moments passed between them, regardless of if the human deemed to reply to the potential slight of his comment, or if he would acknowledge the fair statement made by the Clockwork Man, the automaton would continue.

“I admit, I’m going to use this ship to leave the planet, but I have something to do out there.” He nodded rather generally towards the sky. “It will be dangerous, and I don’t have time to drop off passengers.”

He dropped his head back to the hard structure behind him with a dull clank, and stared up at the clouds.

“You might be better off taking your chances with the portal.” He said finally, allowing more wistful silence to prevail on what could be a record breaking drawn out and chilled conversation.

"Dangerous, you say?" Arty made a show of weighing his options as he sat there next to the robot. That is, he sat in silence for a moment before continuing. "Sounds like my kind of detour, Tin-man. How long until we get going?" His city could wait. This fellow next to him was pretty much promising epic adventure, and the metas back home were getting kind of boring anyway. Not that he was an adrenaline junky or anything. It was kinda hard to be one of those when you had absolute control over your nervous system and autonomic functions. It was curiosity, more than anything else, that drove Arty to accept the other man's offer, or rather to project an offer into that thinly veiled warning not to come with. Sometimes you just had to take a chance.

Of all the people in the world to find a portal to a new world, Jessibelle was the worst possible choice. About a month and half ago Jessibelle stumbled upon a writhing swirling mass that had visuals of another realm on the other side. Her knowledge of mysticism beyond that of psychic abilities was rather limited, magic was not common on the world where she and LeeRoy originate. In fact, magic was considered impossible. So the portal itself was rather a risk, especially considering that it was later revealed to be one way. Jessibelle's head scientists analyzed it, several volunteers entered and found that they could not come back through. The next batch was given transmitters to attempt to locate the planet in space.

The results were rather inconclusive, finding that the planet wasn't even in our galactic supercluster. The scientists insisted upon further research but with the news that it wasn't in our supercluser Jessibelle didn't need to know anymore. The empress informed her people that this was no doorway in our universe, during this time she had been researching everything about theoretical mysticism. It would take a being of incredible power to create a portal within the universe to lead to another point in the same universe. This was the creation of some being on parallel with the concept of a god. Something Jessibelle was rather opposed to.

Not gods but religion.

The idea that someone had more dominion than her was disgruntling to say the least. Though she allowed her community's scientists to research into the portal Jessibelle was certain that it was a doorway to another dimension. The reason it had never been located by the numerous billion humans was it's depth, it was buried well below the surface. The portal had been unearthed in an expansion to accommodate for more populace. It was mere happenstance that would bring Jessibelle to the Nexus.

At two weeks ago Jessibelle sent a countrywide message to all of her people. On their televisions and computers her fair face showed to everyone, with a smile that could give you diabetes she spoke to them. "My dear people, I know the great doorway hass been on your mind for quite ssome time. Oh how it hass plagued my own mind. I've seen it as a way to make my people prossperouss, but on the other hand I'm fearful of what could happen to my people without me here." She paused for effect, wiping a feigned tear from her cheek and laying her hand down on her thorax. Which was currently positioned to look somewhat like the lap of a someone sitting on their own feet. "I've deccided that for the good of my people that I sshall go through the doorway with my leading sscientisstss-" Jessibelle paused for a moment, forcing a look of slight embarassment on her face. "Pleasse pardon my lissp, it's so embarasssing." This was, of course, not genuine embarassment. Yes, the lisp is real. No, she cannot do anything about it, but she uses it as emphasis to make everything more important. The letter S was her bane, however, she never liked saying her own name. "Ahem. I have deccided to enter the doorway with my sscientissstss and guard to find prossperity for my people."

The hand of the empress raised and was placed it above her bosum. "With a heavy heart I assk my people a quesstion that I never wisshed to assk of you. I thought for a time that I could not leave my people unattended, undefended, unhappy. But my sson hass agreed to sstay behind and overssee you, Renard iss a bit rough around the edgess but I know he will be a good leader. He iss ssmart and sstrong, and I hope you resspect him in my sstead." Jessibelle's face changed to a deep serious look at the people who are watching. "Now, I assk ssomething more of you. I cannot go alone you ssee. Even my highest ranked guards aren't enough, I am only one woman, and though I trusst my guardss I am a prime target for being asssailed. Sso I ssend out a call for my people to follow me through the door, I know thiss iss a hard deccisssion. To leave your familiess and friendss for ssomeone you've never even met. But I assk you to follow me to help them in the future, when we return we sshall be rich and anyone who followss me will recceive high praisse. Every one of you will be appropriately rewarded for what you will do."

Jessibelle smiled and leaned closer to the camera. "Thiss concludess the announccement to you my dear people. I do not expect you to give up your livess for me, and I will sstill go if you do not come with me. I ssend thiss messsage in the hopes of touching your kindnesss and bringing you on a path to sssee more than just our universse, but more universsess than we can imagine." With that she cut off the com and smiled behind the now shut down camera. "Three, two-" And that's when the phones started ringing, Jessibelle's numerous consorts began answering, and within a few days Jessibelle's doorstep was flooded with over ten thousand men and women who had chosen to follow her through the doorway. Another few days and they had been sorted out, anyone who had military training or any important training whatsoever was kept and everyone else was sent home. And now we're one week away from the present.

At the break of dawn Jessibelle and her now dwindled following of only 1,200 men and women, including her own guard of course, she marched into the new world of Mystique. They tested the doorway again, confirming that it was in fact a one way trip. Unfortunate, they would need to start work on a ship after setting up a perimeter. Only 600 of the followers were Ahs Chini, the rest were humans who follow Jessibelle's doctrine, heavily armored human warriors. The six hundred arachnid folk started work on construction of a fort.

A fort? Why a fort?

Well, you see. Jessibelle's demeanor to her people is a kindly one, but they do understand that any circumstance when Jessibelle wishes to leave the safety of her own kingdom is to be considered dangerous. As such, her people know that they must build fortifications to defend their leader. And they're incredibly efficient, using entire trees and large stones as the skeleton they weave together walls and rooms from thick white spider silk. These forts take less than a day to complete when there's more than 100 workers, and with 600 this was built in roughly four hours.

As time has since passed we reach the current day, the backstory is over and we reach today.

Jessibelle has learned the multiple languages of the people of Mystique, easily piecing it together in her head in her spare time. And though this planet is rich in resources and technology something was immediately evident. Her psychokinetic abilities no longer function, the planet itself is rejecting her ability to psychically move objects. Unfortunate but Jessibelle has had to cope with this before, I mean, she wasn't always psychokinetic. Now, on this world she had a thousand or so followers. Of these thousand or so people she had with her five guards, only five.

Why only five?

Jessibelle only trusts these four men and one woman.

At the lead of her guard was Mortimer. Mortimer was a human warrior with biological augments to improve his overall combat effectiveness, so devoted to Jessibelle he forsook his own humanity and appearance to become even closer to her. His obsession with Jessibelle may seem creepy but it has proven useful to her in the past, he has personally saved her life twice over during assassination attempts. He is physically, mentally, and skillfully equal to Jessibelle in almost every way. He lacks psychokinetic abilities, however he surpasses this with his increased mobility and weapons mastery. (As a General his Character sheet will be posted when necessary.)

Four elite guards serve under Mortimer, all four of them are Ahs Chini but every one of them is substantially smaller than Jessibelle. These four are; Dutch, Magdalene, Arnold, and Boris. As Ahs Chini they are superior to humans in every way, however, what makes them more than just Zero Tiers? Their equipment, they all wear full riot fatigues over their humanoid portions. And they are equipped with several weapons, ranging from pistols to tear gas grenades. They are incredibly loyal shock troopers who only obey orders from two people. Jessibelle and Mortimer. (These characters are so stock that they don't need character sheets.)

Finally we get to the story.

The empress was out on a stroll to gain a bit of diplomatic favor among the people of Mystique, going from door to door with her guards by her side to preach her doctrine. All the while speaking of key locations around the world, political parties and even monuments. It turns out that this world isn't all that different from Earth, despite the strange magitechnology so prevalent in it. There was clear dissent in some parts of the world, even full civil war in some of the less developed countries. Such an odd place, Jessibelle was happy that she found such an intriguing world. Her knowledge of magic and the utilization of it through technological means was steadily growing every day. Speaking to the people who's jobs were evidently engineers was a treat. They spoke to her of magitech as it was so commonplace, they knew things that she could only think of in dreams.

What a wonderful place.

Shame that Jessibelle's influence had a bad habit of getting people mysteriously killed.

The Clockwork Man considered the offer for a short while; even as he sat there wondering if night would draw in before the ship was anything near capable of flight. The Broken Ones would be reactivating soon, plaguing the Scrap-fields to scourge it clean of life.

“You look capable enough.” He said finally, realising that his growing need for the companionship of something other than his own creation was outweighing his otherwise logical mind. Though he felt no real emotion anymore, the Clockwork Man was still keenly aware that he could go mad, if he hadn’t already, and that had to be avoided at all costs if he ever wanted to achieve his ultimate goals. It was strange that the human, wearing equipment which the Clockwork Man had already judged was incredibly formidable and advanced technologically, would still be willing to sign up for a task he had no knowledge of. It suggested a confidence, which could be justified, or could be dangerous. What the Clockwork Man had also observed however was that there was nothing to suggest the human had anywhere near the capabilities of flying the ship he was sat beneath, neither the technology nor the knowledge. With time perhaps, it would be possible, but by then he could very well be dead. The Clockwork Man was also reliant on the human knowing this, for his own protection.

“I will be leaving when the ship’s navigational and operative systems are re-engaged. More specifically, I expect the ship to be ready in two hours at most.”

The Clockwork Man watched the sun tracing a graceful arc towards the horizon, knowing that time was running out.

“Unfortunately, we do not have that long. When night falls, mechanical constructs will assault this position. If you wish to travel with me, you’ll have to earn it I’m afraid.” The Clockwork Man looked as apologetic as an expressionless robot can, as he returned to his silent contemplation.

Arty's lips spread in a smile beneath his mask when the other man mentioned combat. Killing things, proving himself their better, seemed to be about as close as he could get to feeling true happiness, the kind that you see in movies and read about in books. That state of perfect harmony with yourself regardless of your circumstances. Then again, he'd never been the type to reject who or what he was. He just was, and that was all he could be. So maybe he'd been happy all along and just never realized it... Regardless, he liked fighting stuff, and he was about to get the opportunity to do just that.

"I don't know, robots aren't really my thing. No offense. I'm more of a people person when it comes to killing. They get all emotionally hyper-active." He didn't try and explain why that part appealed to him though. "Robots? Not so much. Just a clanking bunch of metal one minute and a pile of scrap the next. But for you, my friend, I'm willing to make an exception. Count me in."

The Clockwork Man mulled it over.

This man is a sociopath, but he could be useful

Realising this, he sat around in complete silence for a little while, his magic permeating the ship below and around him. Slowly, the small self-replicating nano-mites in the very metal that coated the exterior of the transport began to reactivate, spreading the metal thin and even parasitically absorbing some pieces of scrap close to the hull. Almost unnoticeably, the many breaches in the craft’s exterior began to repair themselves, not unlike how the Clockwork Man’s own ‘wounds’ had healed.

As darkness descended once more on the scrap plains, grinding metal announced that something else was awakening when sensible souls were preparing themselves for sleep. The Broken Ones, the many damaged machines from the Great Machine War, began their nightly battles, attempting to destroy all ‘foreign’ forces. The Clockwork Man for once decided to think about that situation.

To his mind, it was likely that the area he was currently in had been a great battle-field, hit with powerful long-range weaponry, the machines here had broken free of their restraints and fought to the bitter end. Now, the surviving side could recognise only the other broken as friend, and foe was anything else unlucky enough to be walking the wastes at night. It was a chilling thought, or at least it would be if George was still human.

With a resigned inward sigh the Clockwork Man fell forward onto his feet, pushing himself up as he drew his pistol with his right hand incredibly quickly. He flicked open the barrel, which resembled a sawed off shotgun in design, ensured he was fully loaded and then looked around intently.

“We have company.” Was all he said, as with his powerful lens eyes he could see out into the relatively complete darkness. He assumed his foe could do the same, but if he could not there was always the dim light emanating from the inside of the space-craft.

Three shots rang out, and three of the land based wolf like scouts fell crippled to the Scrap-field, a fitting resting place for their ilk. Three more bullets were loaded into the pistol almost immediately afterwards, even as the Clockwork Man counted down in his head.

Three more shots rang out in the darkness, and the light of the muzzle flash revealed a circle of broken and haunted machines closing in.

"I guess we should go say hi." Arty dropped off the ship alongside Mr. Clockwork, noting with some amount of respect the speed of his draw. The urge to show the other man up might have prompted someone else to try and imitate the action at a greater speed, but Arty was not someone else. He felt no such impulse to prove he was better, as he already knew it was a simple fact. He had seen this man move at a speed that would have blurred in the eyes of normal men, yet to his eyes every detail of the motion was clear as crystal. Well... not quite clear as crystal, owing to the deepening darkness, but close enough. Regardless, he casually drew his pair of swords and awaited the arrival of the eerie robot hordes. No point in wasting bullets when you have a very limited supply and swords will do just as well.

A static charge began to permeate the air as he readied himself for the coming onslaught, his swords growing far sharper and more durable than they had any right to, and when the first robot leapt for him, he simply rushed beneath it and cleaved it in two, his blade shearing through the metal as easily as it would through paper. The second, third, and fourth attacks shared predictably similar results, and it wasn't long before a rythm developed. It was almost a dance as Arty moved throughout the field of scrap, evading and attacking and planning all at once, his mind moving faster than his body was able, and his body moving faster than most eyes could track. This was truly his element, right smack dab in the middle of the chaos where the world all but stood still around him as he danced through the sea of enemies that was rapidly being turned to scrap.

It wasn't his efforts alone that stemmed the tide of robot brutality, however, and whenever his ally came into view he couldn't help but admire the brutal efficiency of his work. They were artists, these two, and the sea of metal was their canvas. Or something like that. Maybe Arty just had an unnatural liking for killing stuff. Except... could robots even die? Were they even alive in the first place? What about an afterlife? Is there a robot heaven that they go to when it's all over? If so, was there a population limit? If there was, it had to be getting pretty close to overcrowded by now, such was the effectiveness of Arty and his ally. Those questions and many others would remain unanswered, however, as Arty kept up his relentless application of the swish-swish-stab technique on the hordes of broken robot soldiers. It was, after all, a very effective technique against opponents with little understanding of combat.

Three lazers erupted from out in the darkness, cleaving through discarded metal and one unfortunate machine. Two of the blasts skittered past the Clockwork Man, but the last cleaved a hole straight through his lower torso even as finished off another robot with one precise bullet.

He dropped back from the blow, clockwork whirring and breaking out from the ‘wound’ as the metal struggled to reform over the serious rupture. His head spun around, and exactly what he had most feared greeted him, the most significant factor which could have impeded his progress.

So far, he and his nimble sword wielding ally, who’s skills had impressed even the Clockwork Man thus far, had only been facing the predominantly melee and ineffective scout forces of the Broken Ones. The quickest to arrive on scene, it made sense they would have to face them first.

However, there were slower moving hovering weapons platforms which posed even a threat to him. He now had the displeasure of facing one down; it had already proved it could cut through his armour with its super-heated armaments. He knew he was running low on ammo, just twelve or so shots left, not enough to bring down such a behemoth. There was something else he could do though, and it might just have given them the advantage they needed to survive the last quarter of an hour or so required to at least get the ship moving.

George sprinted forward, holstering his pistol even as lazer fire erupted around him. One shot narrowly grazed his arm, shearing away metal like it were paper.

I won’t die here.

He leapt, diving off a corrugated sheet of metal high into the air, another blast from the lazer weaponry ripping through his upper body before both hands clamped down on the machines sensor matrix. He slammed into it with enough force to even cause the hovering behemoth to slide backwards a few paces, and with a single minded ferocity he began to rip and tear at its outer casing, even as powerful Technomagic permeated his body and burst from his hands, causing the metallic creature to shudder as if suffering some great pain.

When he bounced off the robot a few moments later it immediately began firing at every Broken One in the vicinity, tearing their fragile bodies to shrapnel with frightening ease. The Clockwork Man rubbed his hands together, pleased with himself.

“That should keep them busy for a while.” He said loudly enough that his new ally could potentially hear him over the chaos around them, though in truth he wasn’t particularly bothered if he did or not. He began to walk casually over to the ship again, concentrating his full efforts on forcing the nanobots to repair the damage done to his body.

Impressive. It seems Arty's new ally is not only a good fighter, but a technopath as well. It made him grateful that his armor ran entirely on signals from his own nervous system. You know, just in case. The moment spent observing had cost him, however, and a blast from a second weapons platform struck him full in the back, driving him forward and onto the ground in what had to be a fairly humorous face-plant. So much for looking badass. Arty groaned as he pushed himself up, and even though his armor remained (relatively) unscathed, the flesh beneath had not reacted well to so much force being slammed into him. What pain there was had all but faded by the time he got to his feet, however, and as he turned to face his new opponent he narrowly avoided a second well-aimed blast to his face.

"Hey now, that just ain't nice. At least give a guy a chance to recover first." No such luck. A third blast was evaded with a roll to his left, and a fourth as he leapt up and forward to land on the chassis of the behemoth. The static charge that permeated the air grew in intensity as he slid one sword back into its sheath and swept the other through the twin sensor stalks of the metal beast. Small arcs of electricity began to jump between the fingers of his now empty hand as the charge grew even further, until he finally slammed his hand down onto the metal plating he was standing on and sent out a surge of bio-electric energy strong enough to fry every wire inside the hideous thing. It crashed to the ground in a smoking heap. Good thing magical alien robots still use wiring.

He sheared another smaller robot in two without even looking (gotta get at least a few badass points back after that faceplant), then headed back toward the ship to confer with his ally. "So how much longer till this thing's ready?"

A grin crept across her face in a rather unnoticeable way, Jessibelle and her guard had entered what was known as The Machinist's Block. A small subsection of the supercity to the northernmost border full of technicians who are bountiful in information about crafting magic fueled machinery. Oh splendid circumstance, Jessibelle had her guard hand her a notepad and pen. The craftsmen prattled on about engineering and the like, Jessibelle was happy to see that they were so divulgent of information. Jessibelle thought it so kind of them to freely give her this knowledge, and she was going to give the people who had followed her through this knowledge. They could certainly use it to their advantage.

In reality there was great fear in these men, the six very intimidating folks were not the sort who usually came around. In fact they were so different that they had been ousted as outworlders almost immediately. Not a soul mentioned it but boy did they talk about it behind her back in hushed whispers. An enormous arachnid was never a pleasant sight to people who had never seen one before, and hell, to some people who have seen them before it's still unpleasant. Though externally the empress seems genuinely unaware of the people's fear of her, in fact she'd be hurt if she knew what people think of her. She'd probably get really sad if you said that you didn't like her.

Not because you hurt her feelings.

She just hates to see good men go missing.

After making her daily rounds, offering trade requests for foodstocks and other miscellaneous materials. Such as raw metal, plastics, glass, et cetera. A few hundred or so Ahs Chini came in and hauled out a dozen or so tons of the material with- Questionably legal methods. The day was done and the sun began to set, Jessibelle set out to return to the fortress again with her workers carrying their workload back home, Jessibelle herself assisted with the haul. Making herself out to be a working woman at the same time, you know, the usual fare for convincing people that you're a great person. This is a daily thing with Jessibelle, mind you, she helps people and then returns home to do fuck-nothing all day until she's ready to make herself look good again. Perks of being an empress.

Retiring to her quarters before the sun met the horizon, the forward guards in the exterior border were cycled to the next shift for night guards. The Empress herself was rather uncaring tonight, she didn't even bother to drop off her notes to the workers. That kinda just left them with several tons of raw material just laying about inside the fortress.

Jessibelle herself was casually laying across her bed, body laid flat against the soft cushion and eyes cast at the ceiling. "Thiss placce iss sso dry-y-y." She whined to herself, not much fun was happening. Though she was getting work done she coudn't find anyone to play around with, and that was just boring. Unfortunately for Jessibelle her night guards were about to have a whole lot of fun and she would be wholly unaware of it until morning, as the empress passed into slumber.

Outside as night fell upon the Supercity and Fortress the sound of scraping metal and electronic moans began to pollute the air. The several night guards at their posts were upset by the sound, the sound had come every night for almost their entire stay here. They stared out over the ruined terrain and spotted something truly horrifying, shambling metal constructs from a war long since passed. They lurched with broken legs and shattered forms held together with wires and strands of rusted iron. The guards whipped up their rifles and began firing, the bullets ripped through their metal bodies but they marched onwards. Pressing ever forward despite their broken forms. The guards strapped their rifles to their backs and pulled out several varying melee weapons. Ranging from batons to spears they charge the mechanical monsters and began hacking away at their bodies. Cleaving head and arms from shoulders and knocking them onto their backs, leaving them little more than a writhing pair of legs on the ground.

What were these things?

To the Ahs Chini they were an obstical, until some of the less ruined ones began attacking. Two guards were slain by one machine with just one arm and a wheel missing from the side of its right foot, it was frighteningly fast on its legs. The remaining guards began focusing solely on the one genuinely threatening machine, attempting to neutralize it before it killed any more. The sound of lightning footsteps on soft ground was heard as the Head Guard was alerted to the presence of hostiles, Mortimer himself burst from over the fortified walls and spun through the air like a corkscrew. His lower body twisted around and his right leg collided with the head of the hobbled automaton. What was once a threat to his guards was now decapitated and lying on the ground, twitching violently.

"Keep them outside of the walls at all costs, prevent them from entering our fortress! The Lady slumbers and does not need interuptions from filthy machines! Understand?"

The guards saluted with their hand to their chest and then a clenched fist to their forehead, reciting: "My mind and body for the people." The commanding guard just nodded and sprinted off into the hordes of oncoming machines.

"I gave my body to the sole purpose of defending our Lady from all harm! If a group of mindless machines thinks they can stay my hand they will be met with a grim fate!" Mortimer leapt onto the shoulders of a larger machine with only one foot, the other cocked backwards like a football player's leg. Like a knife his leg swung forward and he knocked the machine's head clean off its shoulders and into the chest of another robot. "Guards, send the four advance troops to The Lady's door. In case any get into the fortifications." The guard nodded quickly and skittered inside, working all eight of his legs as quickly as possible to get to the guard room. Arrival was quick, the guard chambers weren't too far from the entrance.

"Sirs! Madam! Mortimer has ordered the four of you to the door of The Lady, to keep her in slumber while we deal with the machines. As well as to defend her, should any of them get inside you are to defend her. Understood?" The advance guards took the orders to heart and had begun donning their equipment mid sentence, clothing themselves in full riot gear and large rifles far too heavy for any human to wield.

Without a word they marched to the door of Jessibelle and positioned themselves at both ends of the hallway, pressing themselves flat against the wall and keeping a close eye on the door to get inside. Dutch pointed to the entranceway and then upwards, a signal to climb but keep an eye on the door. The other three nodded in agreement and scuttled up to the top of the wall and onto the roof, laying themselves out flat and aiming their guns downward. Anything that wasn't donned in the charcoal colored clothing of the Ahs Chini servicemen and women was to be fired upon.

Meanwhile, Mortimer was still fighting the machine forces outside the fortress. "I'm having a thought right now." He mumbled silently as he grappled with one of the smaller machines. "If we capture these metal-men after killing them. And then we turn them into raw metal." The human-spider amalgom tore the machine in half with his hands and cast the rusted metal chunks aside. "We could get a great amount of free resources for our project." With a headbutt to the chest of a taller machine, rupturing its chest cavity and causing it to fall over stunned. "It'll take a great deal of reforging, of course. They're super rusty."

This was a habit that even Jessibelle noticed, Mortimer speaks to himself an unusual amount. Not to the point of madness, but still an unsettling amount.

It was going to be a long time before they see the morning sun again, when the sun rises they'll be able to salvage the metal and begin work.

The Clockwork Man twisted his head, seemingly ignoring Arty’s question for a few awkward moments. Sheltered behind the ship, near its half-submerged entrance ramp, the Clockwork Man was in fact reading the results his Spider had presented for him. It was truly impressive.

“Five minutes.” He answered finally, whipping out his pistol and turning towards Arty, his hands a blur as he reloaded the revolver and prepared it to fire. He took aim at the human’s head, and then with a small twist fired one round directly towards him. It missed by inches, cracking through another robot some distance behind him; it exploded as a lazer perforated its body.

“You may want to enter the ship now.” The Clockwork Man suggested curtly, leaving Arty no time to potentially protest to his near brush with the Elmorium tipped bullet. That shot could have just have easily ruptured the human’s skull, though the Clockwork Man predicted that he would have likely avoided it regardless. If circumstances had been different, if he had been different, that might have been a shot with Arty’s name on it. However, there was no point milling on that, the Automaton had made his choice to accept his new companion, for better or worse.

Entering through the ships loading ramp, the Clockwork Man swiftly traversed the dark-metal corridor past a number of vital system rooms, and awaited Arty’s arrival. Once safely aboard it was simplistic for him to shut the doors, and continue walking towards the front of the ship, past two more rooms resembling incredibly spartan living quarters. The Clockwork Man finally reached the very front of the ship, where a tough transparent glass revealed naught but dirt and scrap out the window. The Clockwork Spider perched on the console, its mandibles connected to the mainframe as it initiated thrusters, causing rubble to smash and fall from the outside of the hull. Lazer fire buzzed outside, the Broken Ones fighting their turn-cloak ally while some scratched ineffectively at the outer-layer of the ship.

Provided Arty had decided to join him in the bridge, which seemed like the most logical course of action, the Clockwork Man would turn to him.

“This could be rough.” He remarked cooly, seizing hold of a concave metallic chair to hold himself steady as the ship shook and vibrated violently, before erupting with a blast of vibrant purple fire from the scrap-fields, and bursting into the night sky.

The grip on his sword tightened, muscles tensing and eyes narrowing beneath his mask as the gun centered itself on his face. <Wrong move, robocop.> was the thought that skittered through Arty's mind as that all too familiar static charge permeated the air once more. Then the gun flicked to the left and the jig was up. Apparently his new ally liked playing games. Dangerous ones. The round exploded past his head and he ignored it, apart from noting the sound it made as it crashed into the chassis of the broken one that had apparently been trying to sneak up on him. He liked this guy's style.

Once inside the ship, he followed closely behind the Clockwork man as he led the way to what Arty assumed would be some kind of control room, making notes in his head of the various systems they passed along the way, memorizing what he could of the layout before they reached their destination. He was no slouch when it came to technology, that much was evident in the design of his armor, but most of the systems he saw here mystified him. He'd have to find some time later on to examine them more closely.

When they reached the bridge and Mr. Clockwork issued his cautionary warning, Arty did little more than reach a hand out to place his palm against the nearest wall. Not exactly the most braced of postures, except for the intense van der waals force he then generated in hand and feet, binding himself to the surfaces in a nearly unbreakable grip. Suck it, spider-man.

The ship shuddered violently as it began to lift out of the small crater it had created upon impact, then they were free and soaring toward the sky, leaving behind the field of chaos below.

The story of the Clockwork Man and Arty continues in the Perdo Wastes, as their ship breaks through the atmosphere of Mystique and dissapears into the abyss.

The night's battle raged on and numerous mechanical monsters were left writhing and immobilized on the field of battle, the Ahs Chini warriors had set up an effective defense line around the fortress that stayed the assault in its entirety. After the first few hours Mortimer retired to his chambers to rest his weary body.

Jessibelle, stirred by the commotion outside, was quite awake at this time. The empress skittered her way over to the window and looked outside in a rather sleepy haze. You know the one where you're unusually cheerful and know you're going to fall asleep again. As she did this she spotted the familiar trail of a starship leaving the atmosphere, for some reason this made her laugh aloud. Having caught herself laughing she covered her mouth with a knuckle and just smiled. After a few more minutes of watching the sky she returned to her bed and fell back into comfortable slumber.

Several hours went past and at least four hundred of the robots had been slain on the field outside of the fortification, the last of the machines fell to their knees and then to the ground as the sun rose over the horizon. The invasive force was shutting down in some sort of refueling coma or something, maybe they were solar powered and shut down when the sun came up to recharge. Yeah that's the best logical bet. Or something more mystical like dark magic that powers them. On this crazy backwoods planet you really can't tell now can you?

As the morning came the numerous workers from the Ahs Chini fort came out to examine the remnants of battle, they saw that only five had fallen in the night. Mortimer's exhaustive fighting had thinned out the forces of the most dangerous of the machines, this left the rest able to be felled by the remaining guard forces. As the guards retired for the day the workers emerged and awaited The Lady's order. Conveniently she was awake and overlooking the ruined field of battle. "Good morning~" She grinned sleepily out over the crowd of her people, looking down at the broken bodies of machines. "My, there wass quite the fiassco lasst night, wassn't there?"

One man stepped forward rather nervously and called out an answer. "Yes Lady Jessibelle, during the night we lost a total of five men. The most loss we have had since we landed here, Ma'am." With that he bowed his head and stepped back, making sure to avoid her line of sight with his own eyes.

Her face turned into a saddened frown, the loss of five men, how unfortunate. "Oh dear, we musst dig thesse brave soulss gravess at oncce. Poor creaturess, I knew there would be risskss coming here. I wissh I had've sseen it coming." All at once several men and women called up to her balcony, saying praise about how she was doing it all for the right reasons. Though the risks were great and all that garbage, Jessibelle loved being held in such high regard. Though the usual comments about how she's doing it all for the right reasons bothered her. Not because of regret or anything stupid like that, she's just heard it way too much in recent days.

Clearing her throat she took up a more serious tone and pointed down to the five slain men. "Alright, today iss the firsst day of a new age among my people! Thesse five men laid down their livess for thiss goal and I won't let their ssacrificce go in vain. Begin burial cceremoniess for the five of them and head to the main chamber in the fortresss and prepare for insstruction! Today we build a bright future on the backss of thosse losst!" Burial preceding s were quickly finished and those who remained entered the main structure as per her instruction. They awaited her with a rather anxious stirring among the crowd, they had rarely seen her this excited before. This was going to be a very hectic time, likely spanning the course of a week at least.

Among the people Jessibelle marched with Mortimer at her back, followed shortly by the four advance guards. The empress herself was donned in an unusually light amount of clothing, little more than a poncho draped over her shoulders. These were her work clothes, and the people were stunned to see her wearing them. At the head of the room she stood in front of a small metal box with small tubes leading in and out of it and a single hook on the front of it. A makeshift projector to be exact. "My people I mourn the losss of the five ssoulss who passsed lasst night. But we musst never forget why we are here! To better the Ahss Chini racce! That iss why I gathered this information yessterday, I have obtained great knowledge from the engineerss of thiss world of Mysstique. And now you will learn!"

The following segment is a timeskip. Jessibelle instructed the people of this planet's ability to travel through space with magical ships and how they were able to leave their own world with these great constructs. Jessibelle's projector showed images, sketches and diagrams of how these ships worked and how they were barely different on an engineering level than Earthen ships. After this she sent the people out to work, the incredible laborers of the Ahs Chini work force were lightning quick with assembling the basic framework.

In 22 hours of work they had laid out what was the rough shape of the letter H attached to a sphere in metal strips that are at least three feet wide at their thickest point. It was like looking at the skeleton of some great beast, no detail or hull yet, just the bare bones of a massive metal construct. It took fifty men at every bend to weld and force it into shape with machines 'borrowed' from the people of Mystique. In this 22 hour period they had crafted this 750 foot long metal monster's skeleton. Like some kind of massive skyscraper on its side, the inhuman work force was more than able to work this part out with relative ease. It would take a lot longer, however, to make the rest of the ship.

The skeleton was the easy part.

In the next few days this ship would have some muscle.