During the rest of the day I found myself pulled in several directions. Doug needed many things approved and advisement on the direction of the Legion overall. His second in command then needed clarification on a few of the finer points of the chain of command; He couldn’t be everywhere at once, and officially designating team leaders above a certain rank as authority figures in the Legion helped considerably.

That said, the clear exception was my own group, given that I was the Leader of the Legion overall. In the interim my team had fallen from the leaderboards top spots, nearing the bottom. It would be a difficult climb in order to put ourselves back in the number one spot, especially given that people were now more used to the prospect of hunting biotics as a whole.

It’d be good for us, I think, to get back out in the thick of things.

Less required was that I make an appearance among the Legionaries, which I had no issue with. I familiarized myself with our new headquarters as I did so, marvelling at the state of the structure. It had already begun to take on a space-age luster, materials designed to withstand explosions, fire, even chemical warfare taking the place of more mundane constructions.

The building itself was fully five stories in height, and was three stories deep, replete with an armory and a mech bay that would allow a fleet of machines to exit through the back of the structure. Considering the building had grown to overtake the rest of the city block, that was a considerable amount of floor space. Across the street was the same city hall, albeit with some more subtle modifications. In a sense, I could see how people might be concerned with our growing power, at the very least we put on the image of it. However, I felt this was well deserved.

Twenty percent of our overall Matter Energy income went to the Bulwark, and another thirty percent went to our own personal Legion expenses. This had been changed from what I’d had in mind previously, and had been met with some growing pains. After all, it was fifty percent of every Legion members earnings when all was said and done.

The benefits, however, had settled the issue thoroughly. Ammo, repairs, replacements, bedding, food, and more general living was taken care of through the Legion exclusively. That was a major reason as to our expansion. Now, the building was separated into four interconnected wings. Our official HQ that would house people for their data, armory, and mech storage needs, inclusive also of meeting areas where strategic and tactical level concepts could be discussed. The centerpiece of this wing, however, was a massive three-sided obelisk that split the buildings upper floors all the way to the top. It emulated the alien tech obelisks in appearance, but it’s function was much more mundane. Names scrawled across its surface, a nearly liquid surface that moved and changed position. Objects that people gave up to the memorial would emerge to the surface from time to time.

It was as close to a living memorial as we could get, and while it was somewhat strange to me to have it moving, it also seemed to emphasize how things could change so quickly. Simultaneously it commemorated our fallen.

And, I was pretty sure I saw my broken trench gun in the mix.

‘Ah, well. I guess I’ll have to get some new weapons, then.’ I thought to myself, wondering at what my arsenal should consist of now.

I dragged my attention back to the other three wings. The hospital was perhaps the most important, the first floor divided into what was regular care and a sizeable bay for emergencies. The particular wing took up more floor space than either of the other two, but only had three floors. The second floor consisted entirely of more ER and labs for any testing that needed to be done. The third, however, was general practice and rest. We were currently fully staffed, but luckily ER was not common. Most teams had a medic among them, or at the very minimum were trained in life-sustaining treatment to give a wounded individual a chance at surviving long enough to get back to the city in the worst case.

Of course, having helicopters on the roof helped with that, too.

The third building was four stories, the upper three consisting of rooms for personnel, both primary Legion and those that were commissioned on site. Technically, anyone who was working in our buildings was also trained for combat, and was expected to participate in biotic hunts from time to time. It was a guideline more than anything else; nobody wanted to lose a Doctor out in the field. The first floor of the structure was simple enough, half of which was dedicated to a large cafeteria, the other half being for general lounging, and mild recreation.

And then was the fourth building. It had earned several nicknames and was - reasonably so - a point of competition among the ranking teams. The Grid had been designed with several training scenarios in mind, and teams would run through simulated battles that had been studied in earnest by our more tactical minds. The structure was the only one that had five basement floors, and had plans for nine in all, in due time. Among the nicknames were the Slaughter Grid, and Hell Pit for the fact that the floors became ridiculously more difficult as you descended.

Which was the point. Every team, or solo if you wished, would enter simulacra outfits to match whatever template would match. Basic mech suits were allowed as well, giving people the option to test out possible modifications to their kits without putting themselves on the front line first to do so. Of course, not everything was testable, there were definite limits on what we could accomplish.

But, being able to clear the first floor was deemed the bare minimum to be allowed to roam the wilds outside the city. It began with a handful of Wolves and escalated to a horde of one hundred by the end of the push, the only objective being the get rid of all biotics.

This could be accomplished by every ranking team easily, basic biotics were no longer a threat with our equipment and training. At least, so long as proper precautions were taken.

The second floor built upon that, sending massive hordes at the trainers, a battle of attrition. Primarily, this was all about ammo management and taking advantage of terrain. There were two objectives, though, one of which was to kill all biotics, the other being to reach the safe-zone. Thus far, only the top ten teams had killed every biotic, with all other clearing teams had spear-headed through the hordes of thousands to get to the safe zone where, assumedly, there would be an extraction or support from friendlies to even the odds. It was inherently designed to ensure that teams knew that standing and fighting was not always the right answer.

But, if a lesson in when to retreat was the topic of the second floor, then the third was an exercise in combating fear.

A labyrinthine construction, similar in many respects to a mine, greeted a team. Mechs would have just barely enough clearance, but had limited mobility. For the first section, the team had to be wary of ambush attacks and skirmishes from the now categorized Gen 2 biotics, the Salt Beetles. The first portion of the map spelled the end of several teams when it was first implemented, and virtually no team had gotten through without what would have been casualties.

There was, also, the second part where the tunnels gave way to much larger excavated caverns. Mech users were lulled into a false sense of comfort, given their mobility would be restored.

The hive guards would often quickly, and brutally, emphasize that such a thing worked two ways. However, this had quickly emphasized the need for teamwork, pushed utilizing ones advantages to an extreme, all while ensuring that awareness of the area around the battle was especially considered. There were two ways to win on this floor as well, killing all biotics, or to destroy the hive core. This was, however, a trap.

It was possible to slip past a large portion of the biotics, and there were many caverns that a team would never have to move through. But, by moving into the core room, three things would become apparent.

The hive core was recessed into a sturdy crucible that helped prevent it from being sniped from the entrance. It also would quickly become evident that every biotic in the mine would race towards the core when invaders were detected, leaving the team on a strict time-limit if they didn’t want to be fighting from both sides.

And, of course, that the other side was the hive queen, the flying abomination that had very nearly killed me in the mines, was no small matter either.

Finally was the fourth floor. This floor had three completion options. The first was to damage the biotic in question enough that it would retreat. The second was to survive for a set amount of time. And the third was to defeat the biotic. Two teams had managed to perform the first win condition, albeit barely. Four teams had managed to survive long enough that it would be assumed that supporting fire could drive it off. But none had destroyed it.

Which was reasonable, really, considering the abomination was Wolven. This was a lesson in depth on weathering a living calamity, knowing that destroying it was leagues more difficult.

And, technically, there was a fifth floor, however to my knowledge it was as of yet under construction. There was the matter of being uncertain as to what to place on that floor as of yet as well. One possibility was to make it randomized, but in any case the previous floors were more than sufficient to test and train Legion members.

And that was why I was here now, because the day was nearly over, but we were on a time limit. My proclamation of the expedition to Damond came out side-by-side with my outline for other organizations membership requirements. There were plenty of people upset, but as of yet no one had the gumption to put themselves forward in the line of fire, so to speak. It mattered little, to me, as I had no intention of giving the topic any more time.

What we needed was to move forward, and this expedition would give an outlet to people’s frustrations. If they thought they could do what we did, then they could put their money where their mouth was soon. I’d even help equip them, if they registered with us. There would be no excuse.

I let out a breath, forcing myself to stop getting worked up about it. There were more important things to analyze right now.

“What weapons do I take here…” I tapped my chin, seeing the weight machine nearby. Technically, you were allowed to ‘simulate’ any weapons you wanted. The catch was that you had to be able to carry the real thing. And so the computer would estimate your maximum carrying capacity based on what you could reasonably be expected to use over an expedition.

This was less important for mechs, but even they had carrying capacities.

My armor sat on a rack, suspended while I wore simple form fitting athletic clothes. I did spare an appreciative moment to look at my muscle definition in the mirror. Maybe someday I’d be able to begin the process to transform this biosteel back into regular tissue, if that was even possible for me to do anymore. This was rather more considerable than what had been indicated should have been possible when I’d seen biosteel described from the Obelisk.

I ran through the tests easily, each time the machine upping the limits. And, amusingly, the system registered that I would be required to remove any augmenting suit during testing before promptly stopping the trials. But, I did still need an estimation, so I flexed my will, feeling for the connection point into the system before overwriting the limitation this once and assigning my carry weight. Effectively, equipment weight was negligible and I could feel free to take what I needed.

I donned a faux power armor, one that would emulate what I was wearing to the best of its abilities. It wouldn’t be capable of quite everything the real thing could do, but the handicap would probably be for the best. It was a dull grey, and left my head clearly visible through a plexi-glass dome.

“I guess that’ll do.” I murmured to myself, moving around a bit to get used to the suit.

“Definitely not as cool,” I heard a female voice speak, chuckling lightly to herself. I smiled, turning to see one of my few friends.

“Alice! Glad you could make it,” I earnestly spoke, features visible. She didn’t flinch in the slightest as she walked up and hugged me.

“It’s good to see you walking around.” She seperated from me, “But do me a biiiig favor?”

“What’s that?” I asked, rolling my shoulders.

“Never get turned into hamburger again?” She made a face, “That was pretty awful.”

I blinked, nonplussed, before shaking it off and chuckling, “Well, I can promise you that it’ll be at the bottom of things I ever want to do again.”

She pouted for a moment, jokingly, “I guess that’s good then.” Then she beamed, remembering something, “Oh, did you hear? We’re getting in contact with other cities!”

I nodded, “I did hear. Have you gotten anything on your family yet?”

She flagged momentarily, “Well, ish. We’ve gotten in touch with Sunvilla, and they say that my family should be okay. They’re not done with a full census as of yet.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” I reassured her, “Sunvilla didn’t get a meteor close to them like we did.”

“Yeah, but, we’ll know for sure in a few days. They said that this time next week they were planning on doing widespread broadcasts for the families. Technically they could do it now, but,” she shrugged, “they’re saying something about needing to keep communications low. We didn’t get much more out of them.”

“That sounds… suspicious,” I murmured, “Well, I guess we’ll see soon, then.”

Alice nodded, expression downturned for a moment before she forced herself to look at the equipment display. “Alright, so! What are we aiming for here?”

“That’s a good question,” a group of people walked into the building, a smile on my face at the sight of them, “I say we should aim for the bottom!”

Daniel’s broad grin was the first thing I noted in the group. Fran shook her head helplessly beside him, abstaining from saying anything, but the humor was evident in the quirk of her lips. To her right I saw Terry speaking with another man, Richard Nordsen, whom seemed to have grown attached to our group.

When he looked to me, I noted that his reaction was fairly mild, a raise of the eyebrows, but he’d already seen me at my worst.

Terry waved at me, standing upright, a brace against his back, “Yeah! The boys are back!”

“And girls. Don’t forget the most important part,” Alice teasted good naturedly.

Richard scoffed, “You’re more a tomboy than anything else, anyways.”

“Rude,” Alice punched his shoulder, to which he feigned injury momentarily. Then they fist bumped, leaving me with the distinct impression that the whole lot of them were much closer than I’d expected.

“I was honestly not sure if we’d have everyone back together again,” Fran clapped her hands together, “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Daniel put a hand on her shoulder, and then on mine. “Damn dude, your eyes really stand out now.”

“Can’t help it,” I shrugged with a smirk, “Comes with some pretty great perks, though. So I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

“I hear that,” Terry said, “I have an electrode strapped to my ass to walk, for now. I’m like a cyborg.”

“Nah,” Richard gestured to me, “He’s like a cyborg, you’re cyborg-lite.”

There was the briefest of pauses from Terry as he looked to me, and seeing that I didn’t take offense he rolled through, “No, no, he’s like the terminator now, doesn’t count.”

“Anyways,” Fran shook her head, “let’s get into our equipment. I’ve gone to the second level without it being an issue, so I’m sure we can make it to the fourth floor.”

“Can we get through the fourth, though?” I heard Terry murmur, “That’s pretty…” He looked to me, a gaze meaningful enough to convey that he was worried about how I felt about it.

I smiled, one with bared teeth, “I intend on taking Wolven apart, a little bit of cathartic release, if you will.”

Daniel cracked his knuckles, “Hell yeah. Lets re-announce ourselves to the Legion. We’re coming for that number one spot!”

Richard frowned, “Well, not like I don’t want it, but Last Call have been kicking some serious ass.” He sank into thought for a moment, glancing to Alice who was still radiant in her energy levels. With a sigh, he walked over to some of the more heavily modified gear, “Sure, why not. I can give it a shot.”

I glanced to Alice, who shot a conspiratorial look back at me and whispered, “He’s a bit of a pecimist.” She explained.

“I heard that,” he called over his shoulder, and I couldn’t help but bask in the moment. This was better by far than politics.

“Let’s sweep the record.” I spoke to myself, watching the others prepare. Something told me this would be very, very enjoyable.