Chapter 22: Aftermath Cleanup
The Foundry stood resolute amidst Starling City's scars, its concrete walls etched with cracks, the air thick with the sharp, sterile tang of the anti-Mirakuru serum and the low hum of overtaxed servers. Luke slumped in a battered metal chair, his sneakers grinding against the gritty floor, his jacket slung over a crate, a stubborn coffee stain on its cuff catching the flicker of fluorescent lights. He popped a piece of gum, the mint's crisp snap a fleeting shield against the exhaustion sinking into his bones, his fingers fidgeting with his cracked phone, its screen pulsing dimly like a fading star. Starling's breathing, but I'm one stiff breeze from collapsing. The city's pulse—muffled sirens, the clatter of rescue crews sifting through debris—seeped through the walls, a restless reminder of lives still tethered to his actions. His reflection in a dark monitor was gaunt, eyes shadowed, hair mussed, the siege's toll carved into his face, his chest tight with the weight of duty.
The System flared, its interface a cool pulse, slicing through his fatigue like a beacon in a storm.
[SYSTEM: DAILY ROLL ACTIVATED: ROCKET GADGETEER (FACE 4)]
[SYSTEM: POWER ACTIVATED: MASS PRODUCTION. STAMINA DRAIN: MODERATE]
Luke leaned over a cluttered lab bench, its surface a chaos of vials, wires, and humming microchips, his Gadgeteer skill alive as he assembled anti-Mirakuru injectors, their components clicking into place with a rhythmic precision that grounded him. The serum's chemical bite stung his nose, a sharp anchor as his hands moved, trembling slightly from the strain, his gum snapping loudly in the quiet. "Felicity, I need coordinates for the 300 targets still out there—trapped in rubble, scattered across the city," he said, his voice raw, frayed, but steady, cutting through the Foundry's hum.
Felicity's ponytail bounced, her glasses glinting under the harsh lights, her fingers flying across her laptop, her voice taut with urgency. "Luke, I've got them, but it's a logistical nightmare! We're talking needle-in-a-haystack, times three hundred!"
He didn't answer, his focus narrowing as he packed the sleek injectors into a specialized harness, its straps digging into his shoulders, the weight grounding him. He popped another piece of gum, the mint's snap a defiant tic, and launched into the night, the wind biting his face, his Falcon Flight a blur through the city's wreckage, the air heavy with dust and the acrid scent of broken concrete.
[SYSTEM: FALCON FLIGHT DELIVER.]
[SYSTEM: POWER ACTIVATED: AERIAL DELIVERY. STAMINA DRAIN: HIGH.]
He darted through collapsed tunnels, their jagged edges catching his jacket, and into unstable buildings, the air thick with the groans of strained steel and the faint cries of trapped survivors. His regeneration glowed faintly, knitting scrapes as he moved, his heart pounding as he administered the cure, injector after injector, each dose a life reclaimed. A young man, his face smudged with ash, gripped Luke's arm, his whispered "thank you" echoing as Luke phased through a wall to reach another, the cold quantum shift jarring, his breath hitching. Cure Express Delivery, running on empty.
[SYSTEM: GADGETEER MASS PRODUCE SUCCESSFUL.]
[SYSTEM: MASTERY UPDATE: ROCKET GADGETEER +10%]
Four grueling hours later, Luke staggered back to the Foundry, collapsing into a chair, his sneakers scuffing the floor, his harness clattering as he unbuckled it, the metal cold against his palms. Sara pressed a steaming mug of chamomile tea into his hands, its warmth seeping through the ceramic, the scent a soft balm against his exhaustion. The team gathered—Oliver's green leather scuffed, his bow resting nearby; Diggle's arms crossed, his eyes heavy with relief; Felicity's typing slowed, her glasses fogging slightly as she exhaled. Luke's empathy pulsed, a gentle wave soothing the room's lingering tension, his fingers tightening around the mug, its heat a lifeline.
[SYSTEM: EMPATHY EASE: POST-TRAUMA CALM.]
"We saved the city. Again," Luke said, forcing a grin, his gum snapping weakly, his voice hoarse. "Someone get me a hero chill pill and a beach house."
Oliver's lips twitched, a rare softness in his gravelly voice. "You earned it, Luke. We all did."
Sara smirked, her baton twirling slowly, her voice teasing but warm. "Don't get too cocky, Cupid. You're still our walking disaster."
Diggle chuckled, his deep rumble filling the space. "Kid's got a point, though. You pulled off a miracle."
Luke sipped the tea, its warmth spreading through his chest, and summoned Mystic Arts, orange energy lines weaving through the Foundry's cracked walls, sealing them with a faint crackle, his chest aching with the effort, his vision blurring briefly.
[SYSTEM: MAGIC REBUILD: FOUNDRY REPAIR.]
[SYSTEM: EVOLUTION POINTS GAINED: +25 EP.]
He leaned back, the chair creaking, his candy wrapper crinkling as he pocketed it, the city's pulse a quiet thrum through the walls. Starling's safe, but I'm not done yet. The weight of departure loomed, a new horizon calling.
Later, in a quiet corner, the Foundry's hum a steady comfort, Luke accessed his System interface, the air still, the siege's EP gain pulsing like a heartbeat. His fingers brushed his phone, its screen dim, as the System offered a power evolution.
[SYSTEM: MASTERY ALERT: HAWKEYE ARCHERY 100% COMPLETE.]
[SYSTEM: ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: POWER MAXIMIZATION.]
[SYSTEM: REPLACEMENT ABILITY SELECTION REQUIRED: HAWKEYE ARCHERY MUST BE REPLACED.]
The options glowed in his mind, one a permanent, non-dice power, its weight sinking into his core. Archery was my crutch, but I need raw strength for what's next. His gum snapped, a small defiance.
[SYSTEM: SELECTION: INCREDIBLE HULK POWER (REPLACING HAWKEYE ARCHERY).]
[SYSTEM: NEW DICE FACE UNLOCKED: HULK POWER. INNATE STRENGTH (PERMANENT) GRANTED.]
[SYSTEM: SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: MULTIVERSAL TRAVEL QUEST: CENTRAL CITY ANOMALY DETECTED.]
Hulk strength. Hell yes. Central City's next. Luke stood, his sneakers scuffing the floor, his heart racing with anticipation, the candy wrapper crinkling as he moved, the city's pulse fading, a new adventure beckoning.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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