The world around me fades to black.  And all I can see now is calm tranquil water.

*drip*

(I know this feeling.)

*drip*

Like reuniting with my first slave.  It is both familiar and unfamiliar.  Maybe Frankie triggered this somehow?

*drip*

[This is taboo.  A crime of the highest order.  You must stop.]

*drip*

(Why?  Jax’s friend is keeping his eyes closed.  The living are preoccupied with the injured that might be saved.  The dead are, well, preoccupied with not being saved.)

*drip*

[...]

I get it now.  That fuzzy itch wasn’t mana.  What I’ve been feeling this whole time are my little helpers.  Those legions of itty bitty bots running around in me.

However, these tiny automatons are not just responding to my material form.  They are responding to my astral being too.  And while touching and pushing my spirit into Sally?

Like drops of water landing in a perfectly still pond.  I send ripples through her.  Along with an army of nanomachines.  And I can still feel them.  They respond to my will.

This is different than injecting Ipran mana.  It's a lot harder.  Like trying to talk on the phone with a bad connection.

And doing this, apparently, is a big no no?

(Nina?  You still feel them too, right?)

[...]

(Answer me Nina.)

[This is bad.  Very bad.  Should not be.  There have no transmitters.  How can you link with them?  How can I link with them?  This is imposs-]

(Nina!  What did I say about that word?  The trope god’s power is infinite.  Some piddly force like reality cannot possibly oppose the all mighty one!)

[...]

(Pfft…  Okay okay.  But seriously, I’ve tried before.  Don’t bother.  Thinking too hard about it just hurts your brain.  So can you talk to my expats or not?)

[...Y-yes?]

(Good, get them to work.  Repair the damage.  Fix her.  Wow, is it just me or does she have, like, squat for nanos.)

[Adapting…  Only major enhancements need substantial numbers of nanomachines to maintain.  You also have a much higher than normal count due to this module’s requirements.  Her count is within expected parameters for one time modifications.]

(One time modification?)

[A cybernetic arm only requires nanomachines to create the link between man and machine.  And repair any damage to it.  Her eurotica alteration does not require nanomachines to maintain.]

(Erotawhata?)

[Adapting…  As a prostitute, improving sexual performance improves earnings.  Unusual for a tribal to have it though.]

(Debt?  Like my upgrade?)

[Doubtful.  It may have been installed prior to your family’s flight.]

A sensation brings the world back.  My shirt’s been pulled back down but a hand is still wandering around under it.  Soft hushed words float into my ear.

“Master.  I can feel you moving in her.  Anointed by your touch.  The rapture.”  That fanatic’s smile still creeps me out after all these years.  “Never imagined your gift would be technomancy.  We must be cautious.”

Feel this is going to take a bit.  Fortunately there is no weird light or sound.  Just need to keep touching.  So keeping a firm grip on her boobie.

You know, for safety reasons.

A bit of color is slowly returning to Sally’s ivory skin as my minions close her wounds and rebuild her body.  Restoring organs.  Repairing arteries.  Spurring blood production.

(Okay Nina.  Spill it.  Why are you still freaking out?)

[Hesitation…  The history of this world is mostly lost or hidden.  Much of what remains is locked away.  But one spark that burned this world is still well known.]

…

(And?)

[The God War.]

… 

(Which was?)

[Only sight remains to the nanites today.  They are both deaf and mute.  Communicating only through touch.  In the shrouded past they could still speak and hear.]

(Okay, that’s weird, and a little disturbing.)

[When too many spoke.  When too many heard.  The Nanogods were born.  Apocalypse followed in their wake.  Removing their ears and mouths let humanity survive.]

*ratatat* *boom* *ratatat*

[But out there.  In the wastes.  They still speak.  They still hear.  Machine deities still reign.]

(Getting awfully dramatic there, aren't ya?)

[And for the borders.  Between cities and wastes?  In ruins and slums?  The war goes on.]

*rooooar* *boom* *rumble*

An angry bellow in the distance from what must be a big beast, along with collapsing buildings, highlights Nina’s lore bomb.

(Hehe…  So scary.  Even the dead can still die.  Big gods, tiny gods, demi gods, they are all the same.  Hit them hard enough?  They don’t get back up.)

Feel Frankie’s hand squeeze mine.

“That is enough husband.  Any more and it will be too suspicious.”

[Warning…  Reserves have fallen to fifty percent.  Recommend resupply as soon as possible.]

Pull a metallic horse pill out of a pouch.  Pop and swallow it while turning my head to Digger’s kneeling trembling shape.

“Hey.”

“B-big b-bro?”

“I gave Sally an advanced healing pill I found a while back but kept for myself.”  Who cares if they believe it.  “Let her rest for a bit and she will get better.”

The little scavenger who could, looks up at me with trembling eyes.

“B-b-bro?  Who?  What?  Are y-”

Whatever words he was about to say die on his tongue when Frankie’s eyes turn cold and sharp.

“N-nev-nevermind.  Th-thank y-you bro.”

Digger turns back to Sally, holds her hand, and visibly relaxes after she mumbles a little in response.

“Frankie.”  Give her breasts a squeeze.  “Time for us to find a quiet spot and make some noise.”

*boom* *roar*

My attempt to lead Frankie to the nearest Janitor’s closet or bathroom stall is rudely interrupted as the fighting suddenly gets closer.

Look out the window and see a giant junkman rampaging about a mile away.

Yeah, you heard me.  Junkman.  My upgraded nightsight has no problem zooming in and showing details.  It's big.  Not stay puft marshmallow man big.  But still big.  Some of its body looks like machinery.  Other parts like rubble.  And still others like oil.

All blended together and poured into a giant humanoid mold to make one fugly mother.

And it's not alone.

Zipping around him are a good dozen supers.  Bashing and blasting away at the junkman and the smaller but still big creature circus protecting it.

The attacking supers are also a crazy mishmash.  Some dressed like superheroes, tights and all.  Others like martials artists from crazy kung fu flicks.  Still others are poster children for cyberpunk fashion.  Lots of armor, metal, and neon.

Some are armed with swords and spears.  Others guns and bows.  A few are even barehanded.

Seen a lot of crazy shit but even I am doubting my eyes right now.

(Uh…  Nina?)

Before she can reply I notice Frankie’s aura has vanished like a popped bubble and she clings tighter to my side before speaking.

“Pit.  Why did it have to be the heretic sects?”

“Heretic sects?”

Frankie wraps herself in my arms and whispers.

“In this world, psionics and cybernetics are the paths to superhuman power.  Groups that devote themselves to it usually call themselves sects and normally belong to one religion or another.”

She’s trembling a little now.

“There are two kinds of sects, master.  Orthodox and heretical.  The othodox mostly cultivate and study to improve themselves.”  A shudder.  “The heretics use shortcuts.  Nothing is off limits.  Even forcing incubators is allowed.”

(Nina?)

[Adapting…  The easiest analogy would be the tortoise and the hare.  The angelic or orthodox sects believe slow and steady wins the race.  Improving themselves slowly but surely.]

(And the other guys like to run ahead.)

[Yes.  The demonic or heretical sects do anything to get ahead.  Even things that are considered taboo.  Not as taboo as what you’ve done but still despicable.  Even criminal.]

(So the demons are stronger.)

[Adapting…  In some ways.  But weaker in others.]

*scree* *boom* *rummb*

One of the floating martial arts guys swings his sword and some sort of wave smashes into the junkman.  Knocking it down.  It gets back up but the move was impressive as shit nonetheless.

Frankie leans her head against my chest.

“At least we got lucky.”  Notices my raised eyebrow.  “It is a newborn.  Just lashing out at whatever gets in the way.”

Color me surprised.

“That’s a baby?”

“Yes master.  So the monsters and mutants it has gathered are only a mob.  A riot of peasants.”

(So that junkman is a-)

[Confirmation…  Yes.  That is a nanogod.  Recently born.  Confused.  Angry.  Afraid.  Given the form it was likely a mutant once.  Maybe a troll.]

(A troll?)

[Adapting…  Correct.  It should die soon.  Its consciousness has not matured.  Learned to protect itself.]

*ROAR* *BOOM*

The next moment a particularly big and musclebound super dives into the junkman and delivers a punch so strong that you can actually see its shockwave.

The baby nanogod literally shatters and collapses.

(And the fat lady has sung.)

“Idiots!”

Frankie not happy?

“Isn’t killing it a good thing?”

She shakes her auburn haired head.

“The monsters no longer have any will guiding them.  So they will scatter and attack anything they come across.  Making them harder to drive away.”

*bang* *ratatat* *pow* *pow* *boom*

As if on queue, the walls light up with gunfire.  Shadowy shapes leap about in the streets beyond.  Some shooting back.  Enhanced eyes light up the darkness for me.

(Dogs?)

Running around beyond the walls are, dogs.  Dozens of big ass dogs.  Except these are cyber dogs.  Each having different parts of its body replaced with machinery.  Some have barrels sticking out them.  A few even have little turrets letting the barrels aim independently.

[Adapting…  They are commonly called “gundogs.”  Cybernetically altered by wild nano swarms.  The most dangerous ones have grown firearms.  And all of them have an endless appetite.]

*bang* *bang* *boom* *ratatat*

Casualties mount on both sides as tribals are shot off the wall and gundogs are, well, gunned down.

*rummmb*

An explosion different from the noise outside is suddenly felt through the building.

(What the fuck was-)

A witch doctor interrupts.

“No, they are in the building.  Arm yourselves!”

The witch doctor and wounded pass guns around and huddle into whatever cover they can.

*zing*

An ice cold pain suddenly stabs deep into my brain.

“Ah!”

My hands grab my skull to keep it from splitting apart like it feels it's about too.  Almost fall to my knees but Frankie holds me up.

“Master!  Master, what is it?”

My reply is shaky.

“Pain...  In m-my br-brain.”

Her voice hisses is fury.

“Slave module.  Those scum.”

{Hello?  Can you hear me?}

A deep but female voice echoes in my head.

[Analysis…  She is transmitting through your slave module.  But wasn’t the Oxa representative male?]

Give Frankie a squeeze as thanks for not letting me fall flat on my face.

“I’m okay, now.”

{Hey.  Unless, you want another hit, meet us at the top of the stairwell.  Move it.}

Oh, I’ll meet you alright.  Bitch.

{I got a job for you.}