Breachers

Breachers – Path of Steel

42

I

 Awaken

- - -

 

Marcus

 

A while later, Marcus found himself sitting on a barstool, feeling a shiver course through him as he kept his wounded hand submerged in a bucket filled with ice cubes and cold water. His other hand loosely held his new Breacher ID, stamped on a sturdy metal tag that he could attach to a chain. ‘I’m a Breacher now.’ As he ran his thumb over the engraved details, the steel felt both solid and cold. The tags gleamed, catching the ambient light of the bar, the polished surface reflecting the glow of a neon sign nearby. The letters and numbers described his name, rank, Power rating, and the declaration of status as one of the Originals, now on full display.

“Quit playing with it, or you’ll go blind,” his sister scolded him, swiping the Breacher tags and thrusting a cold beer into his hand as an replacement. With a forceful strike, she slammed the bottle of her own bottle on top of his, forcing her brother to quickly down the beverage as his bottle began spewing froth all over, drawing cheers and laughter from the rest of the crowd. Giving his sister a defiant middle finger, Marcus wrestled with the frothing beer, determined to chug it all down and not make a fool out of himself. Several people near him erupted in cheers when he finally finished it, the triumphant moment punctuated by the clinking of glasses. Among the revelers were a dozen of his sister’s squad members, who were eager to celebrate Marcus earning his Breacher status. That, and the allure of free beer, added to the festive atmosphere in the crowded bar.

With a theatrical wiggle, Marcus set the empty beer bottle on the table in front of him. He smiled when he heard the bar owner’s shout at his sister because of her ‘ruining proper beers’, clearly unfazed by the number of Breachers standing between him and his target. Marcus grinned, watching the old man seem ready to leap over the bar, even with half a dozen of said Breachers negotiating with the old man to calm down. ‘If every Breacher in the world had Sam’s spirit, we’d run out of Spheres in a week,’ Marcus thought as he suppressed a soft chuckle. Shifting his gaze away from the commotion, he spotted his uncle sitting in a chair at the end of the bar, fast asleep and still cradling a small bowl of salted peanuts while snoring loudly. His uncle’s legs and stomach were covered in several coats and jackets, repurposing Lauren’s sleeping form as an impromptu coatrack. To finish it all off, straws and tiny umbrellas peeked out of his red and grey beard, with more being added every few rounds.

“So, how are you feeling?” Felix asked as he slid into the seat beside Marcus, seconds later two shot glasses were placed down on the table by him, their dark contents shimmering in the neon glow.

Marcus glanced hesitantly at the liquid, well aware it would be his third shot of the evening. “I’m alright, I guess,” Marcus said, turning to his best friend. “My hand’s definitely messed up—probably a hairline fracture or something. But overall, I feel fine. It’s just a bit weird, you know, being an official Breacher now.”

“Nah, not really,” said a Breacher beside them, nudging their shot glasses closer towards them with a smile.

Marcus's fingers hovered above the shot glass, a moment of uncertainty passing before he finally took a sip, watching Felix down his own in an instant. The Breacher, Luuk Telman, a squad member and a close friend of his sister, leaned in closer, a bit cautious under Joline’s raised eyebrow. “We usually only make it ‘official’ when you take on your first Sphere.”

“Do we now?” Joline called out from a distance as she moved closer, staring down Luuk and clearly savoring his hesitant reaction. “The old fart here is right. Scraping it out inside a Sphere or play-fighting with a Breacher on a soft little training mat ain’t the same thing. You only become a Breacher when you’ve faced actual monsters.”

Luuk just nodded at that before pitching in, “A Breacher’s needs blood on his hands to call himself one.”

“I know,” Marcus said, his honesty veiling the complete truth—a secret truth confined upstairs where steel hands worked diligently to clean and fix things. He watched Felix draw something on a napkin with a pen, while hearing his sister call for another round of beers as a few Breachers started to slap the bar itself, demanding to know if the old man had a karaoke set in the back. Seeing it all, Marcus smiled as he enjoyed the evening, wiggling his bruised fingers in the ice bucket. As if sensing his good mood, his phone in his pocket vibrated, and as he pulled it out, his expression soured immediately as he stared at the screen.

┏                                                                                                                  ┓

“Good job on passing your exam and getting your licence, Marcus.

Or should I refer to you as sir Breacher now?

Anyway, if you feel ready to put that title to the test, you can tag

along with the Salamanders. We’re hitting a light blue in 2 weeks.”

- Benedict

┗                                                                                                                  ┛

His sister plunked a few beers on the table in front of him before she spotted his phone. “Aren’t you popular? Do you got a whole fan base already, or was that Martin? If so, what time’s our little brother getting here?”

“That was Benedict, one of the German brothers,” Marcus said, catching the quick hardening of his sister’s facial expression. “He heard about the exam and tossed me an invite to join him in two weeks to tackle a light blue Sphere.” He shrugged, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. “No word from Martin, yet.”

She rubbed her brother’s hair reassuringly for a moment, leaning closer. “Don’t stress about it. Martin’s probably just busy. He rarely goes to parties, if ever. Hell, he missed my birthday a couple of times as well,” Joline said, taking a seat on the chair next to him, eying the empty shot glasses. “And as for Benedict, clearly you just misread the text, seeing as ‘we’ were invited. Right?”

Marcus felt a flash of unease as he met his sister’s seemingly warm smile. To him, it looked like a flawless, happy mask, with fangs and venom dripping behind it, almost daring him to decline. “Sure, I guess? Why not. The more, the merrier.”

Luuk leaned in, snagging a few peanuts from a bowl on the table as he continued to listen in on the conversation. Joline shot a glance at him, snatched one of his peanuts before speaking up, “Wanna tag along, old man?”

“The pay will probably be shit,” Luuk remarked before he let out a deep sigh, afterwards stuffing his mouth full of peanuts. Mumbling with bits of it falling out, he added, “Fine, it’s been a few years since I did a light blue. Could be amusing to feel so overpowered. And, at the very least, I can legally bully a bunch of Forged for a few hours.”

“Great. It’s settled then,” Joline declared, glancing at Marcus once more, savoring his defeated look. “And as for you, mister Breacher,” Joline continued, pulling him a bit tighter towards her, letting him feel the difference in their strength as she wrapped an arm around his neck. “We’ll swing by my guild this week for some extra training and to borrow some actual gear. Because, make no mistake... during your first official Job as a Breacher, I’ll be right there beside you, whether you want to or not.”

“Can’t wait,” Marcus managed to mumble sarcastically before the arm around his neck tightened into a vice grip, leaving him gasping for breath. He dropped his ice bucket, desperately trying to free himself with both hands until she abruptly stopped when another round of shots arrived. Rubbing his neck for a moment, wincing, he shot his sister a dirty glare before settling his gaze on the shot glass, seeing a strange green liquid. Smelling it, he inhaled the sour odor. “What the hell is that?” he asked, glancing at Felix, who wore a similarly confused expression.

Shrugging, Felix commented, “It’s either poison, or tomorrow we’d wish it had been.” They exchanged a nod before both friends grappled with the sour drink as they drank it at the same time, feeling it burn their throats as it went down. Felix desperately chugged his beer afterward, attempting to douse the wildfire he’d unleashed in his stomach. “Bloody hell, that stuff is vile.”

Agreeing with a nod, Marcus turned to the napkin Felix had been doodling on, seeing drawn wolf teeth biting into the word ‘Victory’ in a creative way. “It looks horrible,” Marcus said playfully, while Felix casually flung a peanut at Marcus while still engrossed in his drawing. “I take it you were inspired by the mouth guard?”

“Yup,” Felix mumbled, crumpling up his drawing before passing it to Marcus, afterwards stealing his friend’s beer. “I had to sketch a few lines on paper after that nasty pic your sister sent me of you wearing the blood-covered thing. I figured drawing it to get it out of my system is cheaper than going to therapy.” He grinned briefly. “Still, you look like your dad wearing it. I think he’d be proud.”

“Yeah,” Marcus said, studying the drawing.

Felix nodded. “Yeah...”

“I’m not getting my beer back, am I?”

“Yeah,” Felix smirked, downing the drink with gusto. The man then smoothly hopped off the seat before mingling with the other patron, and without missing a beat, Felix added another coat to Laurens, who was still peacefully napping.

Shaking his head, Marcus reached for the bucket again. With deliberate slowness, he slid his fist back inside, feeling the sharp chill of the icy water, a low hiss escaping him. He glanced at Felix’s drawing again, memories resurfacing of his father, recalling how his dad had worn the same type of mouth guard during the sparring sessions with him and his brother. ‘A tribute to the old wolf,’ he mused, a gentle smile forming as he carefully folded the paper with care before tucking it in his pocket. His thoughts wandered to what he’d do next, beyond giving his sore hand and knee some rest. As he thought about what his sister had said and the text message from Benedict, fragmented memories flowed into his mind—glimpses of Specter painstakingly reconstructing a partially scrubbed and cleaned robot.

 

- - -

 

Hours later, Marcus was clutching the now-empty bucket, holding it steady on his lap. He kept his eyes closed as he battled the urge to throw up. “I feel horrible,” he groaned, leaning back, his head finding solace against a kitchen cabinet.

“Well, that makes sense,” a deep voice called out to him. Marcus cracked open one eye to see Specter crouched beside him, placing a glass of water on the ground. “Seeing as you’re drunk. So, I’d say that makes perfect sense,” the robot said, a hint of amusement in its tone.

“I’m not drunk,” Marcus weakly countered. “Just sick from those awful shots. Remind me to never drink again.” He exhaled slowly, holding back the nausea. “I take it you don’t want to trade bodies?” Marcus quipped with a feeble smile before paling again, quickly moving the bucket closer to his face.

Specter shook its head. “Nope. I’m just Specter, a robot, and a mere echo of your mind. You handle the human stuff, seeing as you are—”

"Handsome?" Marcus joked, his words slightly distorted by the bucket in front of his face.

The robot rose slowly, its camera lens fixed on Marcus. “Well, I was gonna call you ‘the drinker,’ but I guess you’re after a fancier title than that, huh?” Specter extended its hand, helping Marcus to stand and supporting him for a moment as the man struggled with his balance. Afterwards, they made their way into the bathroom, where Marcus found the other robot in the bathtub. The robot appeared marginally better after Specter’s diligent care, seeing as it had scrubbed away most of the rust, washed off the graffiti, and stripped the unnecessary bits from within. However, the result was far from flawless; the robot still resembled something fit for a recycling bin, albeit cleaner than before.

“So, if you want a fancy title, you’ll have to earn it,” Specter remarked, slowly slipping its robotic hand into the hole in its own torso. Marcus could see his companion’s steel fingers digging around inside before clamping onto the second light blue Orb nestled inside before Specter gradually pulled the glowing object out. “Like I had to earn my own name.” The glowing veins connected to it stretched taut before snapping one by one. Blue liquid sprayed from the severed veins for a few seconds, and then both the broken veins and the liquid dissipated into the air, forming a soft blue mist that lingered for a split second. “Catch.” The robot tossed the Orb to Marcus, who just barely managed to catch it with his right hand while still desperately clutching his bucket with the other.

“How about we not throw the potentially dangerous object to people with alcohol in their system? What do you want me to do?” Marcus asked, eyeing the glowing object in his hand. It was about the size of his fist, a perfectly round sphere that didn’t feel warm or cold to the touch. The Orb gradually ceased its constant glow over time, starting to pulsate instead, like a regular Orb would. ‘So does it only glow when it’s connected to the robot? Or is there something else involved?’ Marcus mused, his thoughts muddled by the haze of alcohol and a constant feeling of nausea.

“I want you to use it,” Specter said, pointing at the robot in the bathtub. “Make another one of me.”

Marcus stared at the Orb in his hand before glancing at Specter. “Okay... but how?” he asked, his face revealing his confusion. “I’ve never done this, and we’re not even sure if I’ve got an Ability like that. I mean, back in the hospital, I spent days trying to figure out my Abilities. You know that.”

Specter slowly grabbed Marcus’s hand, the one gripping the Orb, and directed it toward the robot in the bathtub. “Sure you do. You managed to do so back during the Tech event, and later something similar in the hospital. That was your Ability at work. Instinctive and a bit rough around the edges perhaps, but you’ve learned more, even if it’s on a subconscious level. Trust me.”

Marcus felt his hand being guided toward the robot’s torso and slid beneath the metal exterior, all the while pushing the Orb deeper within. “But I have no idea what the hell I did back then!” he countered, yanking his hand back to grab his bucket again, a wave of nausea hitting him as he watched the pulsating glow within the robot’s torso.

Specter placed a reassuring steel hand on Marcus’s shoulder, but not forming a connection. “I know. Just take a second to calm down. I get that it feels impossible, I do... You know I do. But I need to you try to do what you did back then, feel what you felt—”

“What, you mean like getting hit by a freaking meteor?” Marcus asked, interrupting his companion. “And how the hell do you want me to replicate that? Are you going to throw bricks at me until I get it?” He gripped the bucket tighter, another wave of nausea hitting him.

Specter fell silent for a moment, and Marcus could almost sense the robot’s camera lens narrowing. “Look, I’ve spent days trying to activate this bucket of rust myself when I thought you got arrested. It won’t work if I do it. But, maybe it will work when you try it, seeing as you carry the Marks. I think you’re the center of it all... the Nexus if you will,” Specter said, grabbing Marcus’s hand again, gently guiding it back inside the torso. “Don’t overthink it. Don’t stop on all the reasons why it might not work. After all, there’s no reason why it even worked on me, but here we are, one person inside two bodies.” Marcus felt his hand pressing against the Orb again, feeling the pulsating energy inside. “Just humor me, just this once. Focus your thoughts on one thing only: creating another version of yourself.”

With a slow shake of his head, Marcus spoke up again, “You could’ve picked a better time, like when I’m not tired or dealing with alcohol in my system.”

“No, you’d overthink it out of sheer stubbornness if you were sober,” Specter countered, tapping the motionless robot’s metal shell playfully. “Just like I was overthinking it when I tried to figure out how to get this steel body to actually speak. It only worked when I stopped thinking about anything else besides trying to save you.”

Marcus sighed, releasing the bucket while he grabbed Specter’s arm for support. With both of them focused on their task, the physical contact instantly reforged them as a single individual once more, with their minds synchronizing as memories and emotions were exchanged until Marcus finally felt a sense of completeness. His entire mind opened up, thoughts becoming sharper and faster. He poured most of his mind into Specter’s body, bypassing the lingering nausea he had been suffering from before. The second he did so, he instantly felt better. “Think about what I experienced back then,” he said aloud, both frames uttering his words, strengthened by Specter’s determined personality now embedded within him. As Marcus recalled the aftermath of the Tech expo, the memories flooded in—people scattered around, lifeless or mutilated by the meteors and falling debris. He remembered feeling trapped back then, stuck in the robot’s frame with his actual body strapped within a sensory rig. He forced himself to relive the last few chaotic seconds, how he had barely managed to rescue Felix, before losing Oscar as a meteor ripped through both of them. Anguish and fear gripped him, the desperate need to save his friends battling with the frustration of failing Oscar. ‘Stay calm, block out the world, fixate on a single point,’ he repeated in his mind, clinging to his uncle’s wisdom. He forced himself to replay the harrowing scene, clutching Oscar at the end despite how it was making him feel.

Both frames moved as one, steel fingers entwining with his real ones as he tightly gripped the Orb within the robotic frame that was in the bathtub, motionless. He felt his body heat up, burning through his Mana, the warmth lingering within his black Marks like glowing hot metal, yet strangely not painful. His blue eyes briefly lit up as he channeled every bit of Mana he could muster. Struggling to contain the raw energy, he fought to prevent it from escaping his body. The memory of Oscar’s battered form atop his metallic frame, torn by a monstrous creature, fueled his determination. He forced himself to recall how his family had told him about his parents’ death and the world going to shit. ‘Wake up... wake up... wake up...’ he repeated in his mind as he focused on the robot in the bathtub, clenching his jaw so hard a part of him worried his teeth might shatter from the pressure alone.

‘We need you,’ echoed his uncle’s desperate call in his memory. The image of his broken uncle beside his bed, pleading for his return, etched itself into his mind. As he drew up even more Mana, his body began to shake, similar to how it had been in the hospital when he had donated too much Mana. He realized he was expelling more than he could manage, but in that moment, he didn’t care anymore. He kept digging deeper, surrounded by a chorus of voices pleading for him to wake up, to be there for them. Like a lightning bolt, he severed the connection with Specter, breaking off a portion of his mind and leaving it within his companion, who nearly shot backwards from his mental order to back off.

Roaring, Marcus seized the tormenting thoughts and memories, compelling them into the storm of Mana raging within him. He forced them to converge into a singular command, using himself as the nexus connecting it all. ‘People need you. Wake the hell up!’ Guiding the energy through his right arm, the black Marks on his hand grew even hotter as the Orb he touched pulsed more intensely until it finally gave off a constant glow. Marcus mind was one of chaotic rage, pouring every ounce of his remaining strength into the robot through the Orb.

“WAKE UP!”

As he shattered another piece of his mind, his world plunged into darkness, and he lost control over his body for a moment, causing him to fall. His face slammed into the bath’s edge before crashing onto the floor. The sound of Specter’s hurried approach barely reached him, followed by the firm steel grip on his arm as his companion tried to connect with his mind again. Marcus resisted, isolating himself while battling the coppery taste of blood, his face stinging, and the lingering waves of nausea nearly becoming too much for him. In that moment, tears blurred his vision, the vivid memory of Oscar’s final moments haunting him. Regret gnawed at him for not having been able to save both his friends.

The passing moments were marked by him just staring at a trickle of his blood forming a puddle on the floor beside him as he just wept silently. It took him a while before he finally snapped out of his grief. He slowly picked himself up, shrugging off Specter’s concerned hand. Wobbling on legs, Marcus spat out blood and spit, fighting the urge to vomit. He forced the bile back into his core, letting it mix with the reservoir of hatred and disgust he had kept buried inside. “I’m... pathetic...” Marcus muttered, his words a chilly whisper. He pulled out his Breacher tags, staring at them for a moment. “I get a little trinket and what? Suddenly everything is fine?” he said as he shook his head. “I’m allowing myself to be happy while my sister is still drowning in debt... my brother hates me... and there are still monsters out there—things that nearly took everything from me.” Specter watched in silence as Marcus suddenly tossed the Breacher ID tag aside, letting it hit the ground with a clatter. The young man then swayed back until he collided with the wall, afterwards sliding down to the ground. “Screw being happy.” Marcus brushed his long black hair to the side, fingers tracing over the black Marks. Heat still lingered beneath his touch. “I need to... we need to get back to work, Specter. We can’t stop here.” He heard his steel companion slowly approach him while he himself just kept staring at the Marks on his right hand. He clenched his fist, still trembling with rage from revisiting his painful past. “We need to pick up the pace and get strong enough to protect our family,” he whispered.

Specter watched him for a moment before responding. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to work once that hand of yours heals up. Meanwhile, I can grab us some more Glass. I’ll help you get strong enough. I promise.”

Marcus shook his head before a sudden and firm denial escaped his lips. “No.” He paid little attention to Specter’s confusion as the robot tilted its metallic head to the side. The Breacher’s icy blue stare shifted purposefully toward the bathtub. “The two of you are going to help me,” he said softly. With deliberate slowness, he raised his right hand, pointing at the bathtub for a second before his fingers curled into a fist, each movement accentuating the gravity of his decision.

“Echo.”

Specter took a step back as the robot in the bath suddenly twitched, its ruined joints, pistons, and motors screeching against years of inactivity and decay. The cacophony of distressed metal echoed in the room as its head slowly twisted, a steel arm struggling to grasp the bathtub properly. Marcus and Specter could hear the creaks and groans of the worn mechanisms within, as well as see thin glowing light blue veins within the robot’s frame as they slowly expanded, wrapping around pistons, motors and metal. As the robot struggled to sit upright, Marcus just stared at it, lost in thought for a minute or so. Finally, he slowly slid his injured hand into his pocket, ignoring the pain it was causing him as he retrieved Felix’s napkin. Examining it, he focused on the wolf's teeth doodles, once again seeing the word victory between the teeth. “A tribute to the old man, huh?” Holding the napkin out in front of him, he positioned it to seemingly cover the lower part of where Specter’s face would be. “Fuck it. Let us be wolves,” he muttered softly. Ignoring the protests of his body, he forced himself onto his legs, meeting the gazes of his two companions.

“On your feet, brothers. It’s time to hunt.”

 

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Copyright: OsiriumWrites