Chapitre 12: Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
(Manny's P.O.V)
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It was a mixture of cold and warm.
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Manny was never an early bird in the sense that he isn't a morning guy.
Waking up simply means opening his eyes, but the very act of doing so also means accepting the annoying lethargy that comes with it.
Mostly on weekdays; after long hours of video/online gaming or movie-marathon night: the mornings after were a hell and a half to wake up to.
The Primarch couldn't count the number of times his Mom scolded him for this peculiar propensity with threats of seizing his PS5 for an entire month.
Which was quite… Effective for the short term.
"It'll help build resistance against materialistic pleasures,' she says."
Manny snorted both in reminiscence and mirthful horror.
"Tsk… More like make me feel antsy and a potful of grumble."
It was merely the week before, that Manny's Mom had promised him a surprise due to his 'above' average scores in his mid-term tests.
A reward for his hard work.
But now…
'Now, I won't get to see what Mom's got for me.'
Manny's face darkened while his hands balled into fists echoing in the humid room with a sickening crack.
It wasn't as if Manny had never considered the possibility yet.
He is a Primarch; in this case, having an enhanced intelligence—unfortunately for now—comes with the package.
So yes, it wasn't like Manny had never looked back these past 2 days and said; 'Oh, I'm in another World now.'
Maybe—no, it was the Primarch in Manny that stopped him from fretting about his current situation: what he had gained and what he had lost.
But…
What should he do?
Should he rage?
Should he bawl?
Should he revel?
Should he dance?
It was an amalgamation of emotions that would have—should have—brought Manny to his knees and fixed him to the ground unable to move… Unable to even think.
Manny knew better than to lie and say he was taking all this smoothly.
He wasn't this handsome badass who can easily deal with girls, do some keikaku shit, and kill people all in the same day like some fucking Mary Sue.
That wasn't Manny at all.
It was Manny the Primarch NOT Manny the Human responsible for the sudden paradigm shift in attitude. The irony in all this is that despite the change, Manny the Primarch couldn't bring himself to care.
But what about Manny the Human; what does he think about his situation?
"What a fucking joke."
Manny blurted out in enervation—and then winced.
"Ugh, it's not even a week and I'm already starting to use cuss words. Thank goodness, Mom ain't here to see me."
Sighing, the Primarch turned towards the unnatural raging furnace beside him and the bits of liquid metal coating his bare-chested form—particularly on his arms.
"Whelp, this is what I get for trying to play Salamander."
Of course, the fire didn't hurt him.
He could feel the heat of flames—but that was just it; it didn't do anything more than paint his skin.
Even the bits of metal were like the color paints Manny would occasionally put on at the Amusement Park.
With a thought, the Primarch called upon the liquid fire—the Immaterium—into the material World and manifested its power in the form of Telekinesis.
What he wanted was quite obvious enough.
The metal bits floated off his skin and a tinge of black fire vaporized the bits, leaving behind unblemished skin.
Manny rubbed his arms and stood up.
"I just seem to be getting better with these Pskyer abilities of mine."
His thoughts were inadvertently drawn to the one-eye Titan from his 'dream'.
It could be due to Red's help.
Considering who Red was and his position in the Warhammer franchise. It shouldn't be a surprise to consider his involvement in Manny's strange growth in manipulating the arcane…
Be that as it may seem…
"Nah, I don't think so."
There were some hidden nuances Manny had picked up from the conversation he had with Red. The most important thing; is that Red can't easily interact with him and trying to do so could cause SOMETHING to occur.
What was that SOMETHING? Manny didn't know and would love to find out. Until then, he would simply see that SOMETHING as an unknown.
He would have to do with the fact that his ability to easily manipulate the chaotic energies of the Immaterium and the strange voice did not come from his Brother.
It came from SOMETHING else.
"This isn't the time for mysteries and speculations."
With that mutter, Manny turned towards the reward for his labor and the reason why he had to take a REM sleep in the first place.
Resting on the makeshift slab was a weapon of 4.6 meters in height and over 3600 kilograms (3/6 tons) in weight.
It was a Spear.
A weapon fit for someone of his stature.
Picking up the spear, Manny took on a pose and with an exhale—powerfully thrust forward.
Whoosh…! Whoosh…!
He spun and twirled the spear; executing moves inspired by mixtures of strange impulses and various fighting games…
What? Who cares? If it works it works.
"Hah…!"
Suddenly, he struck the weapon down, generating the sound of a crack accompanied by a visible distortion that rattled the walls and violently stirred up the furnace.
Any normal being—chrome-junkie, Borg, or booster implanted—hit by such a force should themselves lucky if they were anything more than a red smear.
He stopped and exhaled—visible carbon dioxide escaping from his mouth—and then hefted the spear and clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.
"Tsk. It still feels too light."
If Manny were to liken the spear to a fantasy sci-fi arm; it would be more like a lightsaber from the Star Wars series.
Was it a cool weapon? Yes.
Unfortunately, it was impractical for him.
It was too light.
"It's like I'm fighting with a toothpick."
Fortunately, Manny added a few modifications to make it more manageable.
He turned one of the revolving cogs on the weapon's chassis and with a hum, its blade-edge lit up in neon red and its weight suddenly increased.
Giving the spear another twirl, Manny sliced down and cleanly split the makeshift 16-inch slab of steel in twain.
"Weight-increase and blade-augment appears to be in optimal condition."
This initially started with an annoying itch that refused to go away as he had been waiting for the steel in the furnace to become malleable for forging.
It was like magic when thoughts suddenly sprouted in Manny's mind—whispering details on how to make the spear more efficient and deadly.
The last thing Manny remembered was dismantling a transistor before his consciousness took him to wherever that FREAKY place was.
Weight increase and blade augment in the form of crudely made graviton generators and oscillating micro-engines were the only enhancements in the spear at the moment.
While Manny knew this was a preem weapon, he knew it was nothing special when compared to the cyber-skeleton in the Edgerunners series.
This was merely a rudimentary improvement. Nevertheless, it was still an improvement, so Manny will take it as it is.
A quick use of telekinesis yanked Manny's jacket and t-shirt from where lay across the room into his opened hand.
"Well then, Manny…" The Primarch muttered to himself.
"It's time to go do some community service."
According to the words of a certain preacher/Fixer;
Time to go do the Lord's work.
"Huh?"
Manny blinked in surprise.
"Well, I'll be damned. Got the Cyberpunk reference right on the money."
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"Hrk… Bossman?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm not sure if some gonk spiked my drink or my neural chrome is finally going haywire on me… Because I don't know how to put this…? Why is there a fucking mast in your hands?"
Bastet's voice was a mix of whisper and disbelief.
She was alone in her sentiment as the other 20—who were selected for the Scavengers raid—halted with faces slacked in various degrees of shock.
'Maybe I should have given her the heads up when I had the chance.'
Manny thought in amusement.
For as much as Bastet did look threatening—being an Alpha and all—that did not change the fact that she had quite the colorful expressions in situations like this.
"Quite the surprise, huh? This is what I'd been talking to you about yesterday." Manny explained.
"It's my little preparation for today. It'll help me contribute a bit more. But I'll still have to apologize to Upé for messing with some of his stuff."
Well, more like melted and ripped apart—but SEMANTICS.
"Ah… Right." Bastet numbly nodded. "I'm sure the Ape wouldn't mind so long as it's for something useful. So… Can I see it?"
"Sure you can."
The Primarch onehandedly presented the spear to the Leopard. Of course, he didn't allow Bastet to carry it herself—not when it would straight up rip her arms from her body.
Bastet trailed her finger through the spear's chassis, stopping just before her finger touched its blade.
'Smart choice.' Manny slightly nodded.
He was about to warn her of the weapon's sharpness. Even in its base state, it was still too sharp to be touched—then again, it's not like it'll do anything more than nick Bastet's finger.
However, it seems there is no need for that: Bastet knew not to touch anything she did not understand.
'I am lucky to have this bunch with me in my startup.'
"But Bossman, I may have prepared a ride for someone of your size..."
Bastet gestured at the black large vehicle behind her.
"Your mast, though, is another story."
"Spear, Bastet. And I figured as much… But what about the truck you'll use to transfer the others."
Manny gestured at the 8-wheeler that had its frame splattered in various fading advertisement logos.
It was something he had asked the others to prepare in addition to the weapons they'd need.
1 or 2 or even 5 Animals strutting around Watson isn't going to be turning heads, but 20? That will be a brow-raiser for sure.
An advertisement truck, on the other hand, would be more inconspicuous as rides like that should be quite common for transporting merchandise; be it legal or illegal.
"You sure about that?" Bastet asked bemused. "Not to diss my guys or anything. But you do know they'll want to touch it right?"
That sparked a bit of indignation from the gathering.
"What the fuck, Bastet?!"
"Oh, come on! We're angels!"
"Don't listen to her, Bossman! She just wants it all to herself!"
Thankfully, the objections weren't heated as the Leopard huffed and shoved a middle finger at the crowd.
"Screw you, guys. And you, Damen. Don't fucking join the others and holler when I haven't forgotten what you did with my shit the one time I dropped it at your place."
A heavily tattooed man shrugged.
"It's just one time, Alpha. You still haven't let it go?"
"Not Alpha." Bastet corrected. "And one time for me is enough for me after the cluster-fuck you'd pulled back then."
"So you got any other alternatives?" Manny interrupted to which Bastet opened her mouth—only to shut it with a grunt.
"No? Then it seems I've got no choice but to put it in the truck."
Bastet groaned and ran her hand through her hair amidst the excitement of her Leopards.
"Well, it's your funeral."
"Don't worry, I've got it covered…"
Manny assured her as he made for the truck.
Upon entering and placing the 3-ton plus spear at a corner, Bastet as well as the others watched as the truck instantly sank ever slightly due to the spear's immense weight.
It was like the location had been exchanged for a graveyard.
Jollifications were brought to a halt as everyone silently regarded the Primarch who walked out as if he weren't human.
… Which was kinda true biologically speaking.
Things lost and things gained.
"Hah…" The former Alpha dryly laughed. "You gotta keep your miracles to a minimum, Bossman. Too much and I'll start to think there ain't anything you can't do."
"Can't blame me for being me." Manny shrugged. "But I'll do what I can to temper your expectations…"
"Temper… Huh~" Bastet drawled disbelievingly. "Well, we'll see about that."
"Heh. Yes, we will."
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Morning in Night City was EXACTLY how Manny had expected them to be.
Which means hectic and chaotic.
{Gooooooood moooorning~ Night City~!}
It hadn't been 5 minutes since they hit the main road when Manny could already pick up the sounds of guns—irons—barking in the distance.
The roads were filled with people as they should be.
{I know you hot-blooded bastards are ready for the tally, so let's get counting~!}
Men and women. Adults and children. Well-dressed or scantily clad.
People from all walks of life wander around either on foot or in various kinds of vehicles heading to somewhere in mind or nowhere at all.
Unlike Manny's original Universe—where he had come from—this scenery did not inspire anything close to the art of a busy metropolis; rather, it made him feel a certain something was shimmering within the crowds.
They were mingling within their footsteps, movements, expressions, and actions.
If he were to give it a word it would be… MADNESS.
{Yesterday's body count lottery rounds up to a solid 'n' sturdy fifty. Sheesh, that's a lotta irons pumping right there}
It felt like they were expecting some sort of bomb to blow at any given moment and they were all ready for it to be blown…
… They were expecting it even.
{Pacifica spits out a twenty-five! Thanks to the tete-a-tete between the Voodoo Boys and the NCPD! Three officers, so all that's left is a lil prepping 'cause things are gonna be coming in hot folks!}
They were ready for the madness of the city.
Well, this shouldn't come as a surprise considering there are VENDING machines that sell guns.
This is a place where even in-game life is nothing more than a commodity battered with emotions, ambitions, and eddies.
{Got wires sparking in Santo Domingo. The Netrunners are at it again! Had two high-speed chases going off at City Center and Westbrook. Words out some dignitaries' rides got totaled. Ouch! As for Watson… Well… Watson's still Watson!}
Night City; the City of Dreams…
'Well, I'll be sure to add to the pile.'
{This has been your man, Stan. Join me in another day in our City of Bugs!}
Anyway…
"Bastet, do me a solid and change the channel. This ain't what I want to hear early in the morning."
"I take it you're not a Stan Media fan."
"More like I don't want to listen to his poison-laced positivity first thing in the morning."
"Hahaha… I know the feeling. How about some rock."
An unfamiliar raucous tune filled the car.
Manny hummed at the catchy chaotic beat and reclined back to the massive back seat.
"It's not exactly my kinda thing. But it'll just have to do."
The opposite road had a car speeding by with motorcycles and sedans hotly following in pursuit.
Let's see what we can do about this MADNESS.
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.
.
.
I think I consider myself a calm person.
Even before becoming this—becoming a Primarch—I never saw myself as someone with a bad temper.
No, that's wrong.
It's more like I never knew what it feels like to experience TRUE rage.
I would be lying if I say I have never felt pissed or angry in my entire life.
From my parents. Siblings. Friends. Classmates. Strangers… It could be from anybody who's done me wrong or rubbed me the wrong way.
But it's more on rudimentary issues—issues that could take a week or 2 or in worse cases, a total ignoring of the offender…
Of course, it heavily depends on the scenario.
I don't think I have in my life hated anything or anyone so badly the only thing I could think of was how to make them suffer… How to make them hurt slowly and painfully.
.
.
.
At least, that is until THAT day.
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Manny swung his spear with an air-distorting force, obliterating the Scavenger guards into a bloody mist and painting the dilapidated walls in iron crimson.
"Bo-Bossman, what's come over you…?"
He could feel the shiver in Bastet's voice.
Despite doing his best to hold back the boiling rage, Manny knew unless he did something that it would never be quenched.
"I'm fine… I'm fine." Manny assured Bastet—and himself. "Alright, new order. I need you all to arrange yourselves in 5 groups. Put yourselves with people you can trust to have your back. I need you all to make sure your comms are green because I'll be issuing commands directly to each group."
Manny gnashed his teeth in a bid to ignore the wailing and crying.
These aren't people.
They aren't humans!
Monsters cladded in human flesh!
They will all pay for this!
EACH AND EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM!
Like pigs to a slaughterhouse…!
KILL THEM ALL…!
Manny felt his eyes pulse in an esoteric power.
"No one in this building is getting out of here alive."
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My original goal was to take possession of the Scavengers Den. It is still my goal. I merely wanted their equipment and resources.
I had nothing against them except for the fact that from a moral and economic perspective, taking them out was the right thing to do.
But that day… What I saw when I looked into the Scavengers Den… Made what I was about to do mighty PERSONAL.
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L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
vtorx_0867
vtorx_0867 I'm sure most people are confused at the sudden change of thought
So I'll shed a bit more light on what just happened: simply think of Konrad Curze and apply it to Manny. I won't say if anyone is correct or not but to simply wait for the next update.
I'll have to go check out a bit of Mortal Kombat Fatalities in preparation for what's about to happen next.
— Un nouveau chapitre arrive bientôt — Écrire un avis
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone