Super Genetics

HeroWatch Entry

(last updated Year 57:12:03 08:01 local time)

Tinker (Damien Alcantar)

Summary

Damien Alcantar (chosen super moniker: Tinker), is an S-ranked Artificer best known for his S-grade Artifact armor (see (Power Armor), (Artifacts)). He is one of the first Awakened designated (the Second Wave), as he missed (the Call) by three years. In Year 3, he Awakened as an Artificer. In Year 5, he attended M.I.T. (see (Pre-Splintering Universities)) where he graduated with a simultaneous bachelor’s degree in electrical engineering and a Ph.D. in biomechanical engineering with an emphasis on human-machine integration.

After completing his (Midmark Quest), he was formally invited to join the (Supers for Peaceful Cohesion), where he contributed significantly in the war against (Tempest).

He completed his (Capstone Quest) in Year 23, becoming the second recorded S-ranked Artificer. In Year 28, he officially joined (the Council) as one of its leading S-ranked members.

In Year 57, he has most recently served as the ranking representative of (the Council) in their ongoing dispute over Topeka (see (The Topekan Crisis)).

He is credited with 473 patents (see citation).

Powerset

Best known for his iconic power armor, Tinker has demonstrated speed and strength approaching that of an S-ranked Duelist while inside his armor. But outside of physical confrontations, Tinker has developed a reputation for pioneering numerous branches of Artifact science, anti-Swarm devices, medical breakthroughs, flying vehicles, and spatial-locking science.

+ Artificer (F to C)

(click to expand)

+ Artificer (C to S)

(click to expand)

Affiliation

Tinker has been an SPC-registered member for decades. He is also a ranking-member of (The Council), which rules over Kansas City and is currently embroiled in a border dispute over Topeka.

Personal Life

(click to expand)

Notable Exploits

(click to expand)

Part Four: War of the Elements

Three months later...

The Black Wall was visible from every point within Topeka. It stood like an infected sore, blighting the land, reminding her citizens that their home was no longer just their home, but also, a warzone.

To the five supers sprinting down the alleyway, though, it signaled salvation. Freedom from their pursuers, safety from surefire imprisonment—or possibly death.

Terry led them at a sprint, his shoes slapping against puddles of foul-smelling water. Refuse lined the alleyway and the smell would have been overpowering if their lives weren’t at risk.

Behind him, long-legged Peter was second fastest. Though he specialized in earth magic, the cement lent him no aid—his focus was in plants. And though they were excellent for scouting, they did nothing to speed him along.

He was simply fast.

Next came Tania. Her legs were the shortest, but she had years of rigorous training under Whipvine that had lent her the endurance of a marathon runner.

Alan was on her shoulder and his magic did aid him in their flight—occasionally. As he raced down the alley, he went out of his way to place his feet on the dirty puddles, where his sneakers sunk in like stepping in Jello, then were rebounded out, giving him an eerie-looking sort of bounce to his step. All the same, his natural athleticism was the lowest of the group.

That is to say, the lowest of Terry’s group.

The final member of this fleeing coterie was the man they had sneaked into East Topeka to fetch. An agent of Terraform and the man that would be their ticket back to the Market where Terry had unfinished business.

For three months, he’d been trying to procure a ride back to the Market. His Quest to learn anchoring magic had stymied him every step of the way and he desperately needed a session with Marlon to unlock the secrets to the man’s abilities.

Unfortunately for Terry, Marlon refused to engage in System chat. He hadn’t even accepted the request. When he’d asked Terraform to go talk some sense into the Traveler, the Market’s purveyor had reported back some gut-wrenching news.

[Terraform]: That’s a no-go, Terry. Marlon said—and I quote: “Tell Tammy to make the trek down here if it’s so important.” No amount of explaining would make him budge and he eventually threatened to portal me into the Pit. I told him that was impossible, but he stopped responding to me at that point.

Terry had been too incredulous to be mad. He eventually came to the conclusion that Marlon’s secrets were Marlon’s secrets, and if he wanted to pry into them, it would have to be on the man’s terms.

His…understanding had slowly eroded as it became increasingly clear how difficult it was to get to Terraform’s Market with the Traveler tokens locked down; the ramifications of Skipper’s betrayal continued to shake up the smooth operations of the Market. Instead, one had to be ferried there by a high-level Elementalist with a stone specialty. And not just any Stone Elementalist would do, since the location of the Market was also a closely-guarded secret.

Terraform can just send me an Elementalist…right?

Turned out, sending anything into an active warzone was a tall ask. Especially a warzone locked down by Artifacts, high-ranking Travelers, and three powerful factions.

Wichita—led by his father—controlled West Topeka. He was supported by Savage and the Iron Maiden—who had recently joined the front as things intensified. In addition, the Emperor was footing the bill to bring on supplementary supers to shore up the large gaps left by James, Savage, and the Iron Maiden. Supplementary forces meaning supes-for-hire—mostly mercenaries and unaffiliated Awakened.

Not exactly the most reliable of forces, but enough to partially counter the Council’s superior resources.

The Council’s forces controlled East Topeka with an iron fist, using Tinker’s Artifacts to lock down Traveling and detect seismic disturbances. And though none of the S-rankers were meant to take the field—all agreed that led to escalation and eventually, total war—the Council still possessed a stable of supers that surpassed Wichita. It wasn’t just that they had more A-rankers—though they did—but rather, the gamut of B-rankers, C-rankers, and even D-rankers, far outstripped what Wichita could bring to bear.

Despite the numbers advantage, a conflict between supers ultimately came down to those at the tip of the pyramid, the A-rankers that took to the field, and the powersets they possessed.

And the third faction, stepping in to…moderate, was the SPC—the Supers for Peaceful Cohesion.

Otherwise known as the conglomerate founded by Dancer, who had a very particular bone to pick with Wichita and its Emperor.

While there hadn’t been any overt finger pressing on the scale between Wichita and Kansas City, the implication was enough to spread tension across both sides of the city.

Everyone had heard about the Emperor’s showdown with Dancer and those inclined to pick sides were also those inclined to pick the winning side.

It was this third faction that had implemented the Black Wall. A miles-long stretch of Artificer and Elementalist design, created to form a zone dedicated to the war. Hollowed out, filled with artificial control points, shifting walls, and crafted to be labyrinthine, the intention had been to contain the war within the interior of the wall, away from civilians.

The SPC had gamified the conflict between the Emperor and the Council, funneling the fight into the contained space.

Of course, some fights always managed to spill out from the wall and while both sides had agreed to keep the war away from the city itself, the unspoken understanding was that strategic locations within Topeka were fair game.

So long as the SPC couldn’t pin any sabotage or outright attacks back on either party.

Which meant that—while the city proper avoided most of the fallout that generally accompanied super-enhanced war—the occasional sally from the Black Wall or circumspect sabotage was not just a fact of life…it was expected.

Meaning East Topeka was always on high alert for Wichitan forces, infiltration, or raids from the wall.

Meaning security was nearly as tight away from the wall as it was at the base.

Meaning their rendezvous with Terraform’s agent needed to happen on neutral ground, away from either side’s forces.

Meaning…the damn fool shouldn’t have burrowed from the earth anywhere near East Topeka.

And yet, Terry and his team now found themselves running for their lives a quarter mile from the wall in East Topeka. At least Terry knew the Wichitan forces wouldn’t execute them if they were ultimately captured; he’d just reveal his identity and chalk it up to an embarrassing and brief rebellion. The Council on the other hand…

The coordinates had been so clear. Under the Black Wall. Under.

But Terraform’s agent hadn’t ended up under the wall. No, he’d inadvertently found himself pinged by Tinker’s devices, three miles off course, and practically shitting himself.

Leading to the hastiest and worst-planned rescue mission of all time. And now, they were on the run from what seemed like the entirety of the Council’s forces.

There was no need for a map—the wall served as their beacon, their obsidian salvation looming ever present in the distance. The route they took toward that salvation was winding as they kept to the back alleys and the tight press of building walls; more than one Council super roamed the sky above, scanning for them.

They stopped at the mouth of an alley, Terry holding out his hand as he glanced left, right, and up. It was the up he was more concerned about.

“We’re almost there.” He kept his voice even, breathing steady, focusing his mind. “Once we clear the buildings, it’s a hundred yards of nothing but mud and open space. With the fliers up above, we’ll never make it in an all out sprint.”

Their Market agent—Klein—sucked in a gasping breath, his eyes going wide.

“I-I can’t,” he said in a rush. “It was a-a good try, but I-I can’t.” His aura shifted to Terry’s senses, diving into the earth. “I’m going back to the Mark—”

“No!” Terry gripped the man’s arm, using his aura to batter the magic aside. Klein might have been strong enough to resist Terry in normal circumstances. But with his aura frazzled and his mind clouded with terror, his hold was stripped away easily. “They’ll expect you to make a break for it that way. You won’t make it past their net.” He studied the man a moment longer to make sure he wouldn’t do anything foolish, then nodded toward the wall. “That’s our only way out of the noose. Do you understand? We have to try.”

“You have a plan, Ter?” Tania asked quietly.

His eyes flashed golden, his lips set tight as he nodded.

“I do. Misdirection is the key. Listen carefully…”

Damien Alcantar, also known as Tinker, flew a thousand feet above East Topeka. Data flashed across his HUD, lightning fast, more flicks of light than actual text. Biosensors on the exterior of his power armor filtered through the neural-network trained against his target’s specific markers, then fed back into his mundane senses.

In close ranges, his target’s smell would fill his nose like the smoke from a bonfire; to his eyes, the target’s silhouette, unique gait, and a million other biological factors would be as stark as a sign reading: I’m here. The target’s voice—even artificially modulated by an advanced super-designed mask—would ring in his ears like a clarion call.

The only aspect of his target that had challenged his S-ranked capabilities was his aura signature. At first, Tinker had been annoyed—like a fly buzzing around his head, dodging his swats with an uncanny alacrity. But as he was forced to turn his full attention to the problem, he couldn’t help but feel a spark inside his chest that had eluded him for decades.

The spark of an academic challenge!

All projects fell to the wayside. All efforts to study the Black Wall’s architecture—a feat of superhuman and engineering genius, even he had to admit. All attention devoted to identifying the idiosyncrasies of this Chameleon’s aura.

The name was apropos, considering his peculiar powerset. The first time Chameleon had shown up on their radar, he had demonstrated Traveler-based powers, portaling into a spatially-locked warehouse to pilfer food stores.

It hadn’t been one of his own Artifacts, so his academic interest hadn’t been piqued. Bypassing a C-rankers spatial-locking Artifact was nothing to write home about for most high-ranking Travelers.

Only after his neural assistant had flagged the footage, had Tinker became aware of Chameleon.

The portal was uninteresting—rote usage of not quite common magic. Even the metal telekinesis was relatively basic—though, in conjunction with portal magic, made for interesting combinations.

It was only when Chameleon had turned invisible to mundane—and infrared—cameras, that Tinker had sat up and noticed.

A rogue S-ranker, he had thought, feeling a flash of territorial annoyance. What S-ranker dared challenge me in my own city?

Tinker didn’t often find himself interested in the political machinations of his fellow Council members. Controlling Topeka was low on his priorities, if he were being honest with himself. But he tolerated the distraction because it gave him a pass from public appearances, press conferences, and those dull Council meetings where they debated over dross like board members of a local HOA.

No, his assignment to Topeka was perfect. He was never expected to intervene personally—was in fact, disallowed from doing so by the compact between the Emperor, the Council, and the SPC. Furthermore, the Wichita-controlled forces were inferior in both numbers and composition, meaning he could delegate most of the conflict within the Black Wall to his subordinates.

And finally, it gave him unparalleled access to the Black Wall, where he was currently running dozens of experiments on the enigmatic Artifact.

Correction, had been running dozens of experiments.

Now, only one challenge interested him, and he was quite certain he had cracked it.

This thorn in the Council’s side, this unregistered and unheard of S-ranker who had continued to raid East Topekan stockpiles, was, in fact, not an S-ranker at all.

He was—at most—a C-ranker. Tinker had toyed with the idea that he might even be a D-ranker after sampling his aura signature with sensors he had positioned in one of Chameleon’s targets.

But no…that would be ridiculous.

The question was, how did a C-ranker demonstrate control over not one, but two, elements and portal capabilities?

At first, the answer seemed obvious.

Occam’s razor—the simplest answer is usually the best.

Chameleon was an Elementalist who had control over one element, then completed his Midmark and achieved control over the other. His portal abilities could be tied to some powerful Artifact—an S-grade Artifact, he had guessed.

An unusual—and powerful—prize to be sure.

Then, a second aura signature reading had thrown a wrench into his theory.

He had studied it for entire days, feeling the utter shock of decades of assumptions clattering to the ground around him like a house of cards.

His target’s aura signature had changed. And not just qualitatively, as would be expected of a rank up.

It had fundamentally changed in a way that was practically indicative of an entirely different person.

There were only two possibilities, and neither held any weight to the man, which was why he agonized over that reading for so long.

Either, Chameleon passed his Capstone and unlocked a new class. Or, he had always been an S-ranker and one of his classes was Visionary. Only a Visionary could demonstrate a fluctuating aura signature so casually.

Neither answer satisfied his academic gut. As a scientist, facts, numbers, and experimentation were the holy trinity. But there was a fourth factor—an X-factor—that Tinker had come to rely on when faced with a problem that stymied him.

Intuition, gut feeling, whatever it was called. He had a natural inclination to discard such amorphous instinct. But over time, he’d discovered that this instinct was right more often than wrong.

And his instinct was pointing him toward a third option—one he might have dismissed out of hand in any other instance.

Chameleon was just that—a power-swapping chameleon, a copycat.

He’d heard of similar instances, of course. There were one or two Visionaries that could copy powers, reshaping their aura to mimic others. But they were always all-or-nothing, cloning powersets—usually with reduced power and rigid inflexibility.

He had never heard of a super—Visionary or otherwise—assimilating powers ad-hoc the way Chameleon appeared to be doing. After weeks of observation, Tinker had identified water, light, metal, and earth control from Chameleon, in addition to portals that carried an air of sophistication and skill that an Artifact shouldn’t have been able to demonstrate.

His catalog of aura signatures for Chameleon had stalled out, finally. He now felt confident that he could find the man via not only sight, smell, and sound, but also aura.

He’d only been waiting for word to come of a Chameleon sighting to test the data.

And now, as he sailed high above the air, his HUD lit up and a rare smile touched Tinker’s face—the smile of a scientist’s experiment finally bearing fruit.

With a thought, his power armor broke into a dive, breaking the sound barrier in seconds.

I’ve got you now, Chameleon.