“Breathe in,” Surge commanded as he held up what looked to be some form of scanner against his bare chest. “And exhale.” He picked up his electronic notepad and wrote down a few notes. The two of them were sitting in the medical bay; an area that hadn’t been avoided by the general decay that had affected Coldreach; and Surge had been ruthless in his beginning his restoration. Broken machinery was all neatly stacked in the far side of the room while the bed that Warden sat in now was scrupulously cleaned and surrounded by a large portion of the still functional machines that he had used liberally in the check-up.

Over the past hour Warden had blood, saliva, urine and sweat drained from him. He had needles poked into every part of his body. He had multiple X-Rays taken of his body from every angle. He had been made to drink weird fluids and scanned while he swallowed them down. Those and other more esoteric and strange tests had been conducted on him and his staff surgeon had carefully noted down the results before moving on with a quiet professionalism that looked carefully cultivated if a tad artificial.

“So how long do I have to live Doc,” Warden said trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Oh you’re in no way terminal,” Surge stated with that unusual seriousness. “Realistically speaking I expect you to live another sixty or seventy years before your telomeres shorten to such an extent that senescence will severely impact your quality of life. Then it is only without proper medical care you will likely wither away before you succumb to a disease or one of your organs fail.”

“Well that’s almost a hundred years in the best case scenario,” Warden said. “Judging by the past few days dying of old age is the least of my worries.”

“That’s pretty indisputable,” Surge agreed. “There are a few cells that may become cancerous in three to four years but I can just cut them out real quick when you have some free time. You’re suffering from a dormant strain of LungCrack but I’ve caught it early so there shouldn’t be a problem. You need a full set of shots. Do you have any aversion towards needles?”

“No more than any other human,” Warden admitted. “Do you have the shots on hand? Aren’t you running low on supplies?”

“I have one set left of standard vaccinations in the fridge back in my vehicle,” Surge stated. “Mind if I put you under later and get that all done at the same time. In addition, you also have a few injuries that didn’t heal one hundred percent and some other wear and tear.” He chuckled in enjoyment, as if thinking of some unmentioned joke. “Besides it would be a shame to acquire one of these and not use them,” he said patting a large dark crimson machine that was made out of some substance that looked a lot like wood.

“Don’t overdo it,” Warden warned after a moment, but didn’t refuse. “Why don’t you do it now while I’m already here?” he asked pointing at the bed he was sitting on. “Or is it one of those things you have to do on an empty stomach?”

“That’s got nothing to do with it. I was giving you time to come to get mentally prepared it; but if you want then I can go ahead,” Surge said picking up a device in his hand that looked like a metal hairdryer. “Just give me the go ahead, Boss.”

“Yeah,” Warden said nodding. “Fix me up, Doc. Just don’t___” he started as Surge moved towards him lifting that hairdryer and placing it against his neck.

“___give me antlers or anything like that,” Warden said opening his eyes from his position lying on the bed.

“I don’t have a pair of antlers on hand,” Surge said smiling down at him. “The surgery was a success. Tell me do you feel anything different?”

“I’m not sure,” Warden said sitting up. The motion was easily accomplished with none of the lethargy he normally felt at the moment. “I think I feel lighter, a bit…” he snapped his hand closed feeling a slight buzzing throughout his body. “What did you even do?” he asked a disbelieving note in his voice. He just thought…actually he had no idea what he thought would happen but whatever it was; this wasn’t it.

“Nothing drastic,” Surge said sounding inordinately proud as he scanned him with some piece of technology. I just tuned up your nerves, drew out some unnecessary fat and bulked up your muscle fibres, replaced your bones and restructured your immune system. It was nothing really.”

“That doesn’t really sound like nothing,” Warden said. “What happened to vaccines and fixing old wounds and the like?”

“Vaccines took five minutes,” Surge said in a tone of voice like reading off a shopping list. “Then I saw that your immune system wasn’t the greatest so I fixed it up quickly. Then I saw you had a few old breaks and weak bones so I replaced them when I was cutting out the cancerous cells. Naturally I had to go through your fat reserves when I did so and I decided to convert some of it into muscle. It doesn’t really serve a purpose once society starts reaching a point where food surpluses are expected. Lastly, I decided to just fix the damage in your nerves. You had slight degradation so I tuned them up. Give it a couple of minutes and your brain will get used to the difference in response compared to prior. Oh yeah, I also went through your lungs and replaced the dead or substandard alveoli with brand new fully functioning ones.”

“Okay,” Warden said trying to think of something else to say. Technically he had given his consent, although Warden had long gone past the point he would consider reasonable. “How long have I been out for?”

“Three hours since the start,” Warden said casually as if he hadn’t just admitted that he had done impossible things in less time then it took to cook a roast. “Honestly the procedure is a lot less special then it sounds. The improvements as a whole do not carry you past the realm of humanity and no__most of the individual improvements are not abilities impossible to obtain for your genetics.”

“So you’re saying that I wouldn’t get kicked out of the Olympics for this,” Warden said as he moved his hands. It was an odd feeling to react faster than before and one that he couldn’t quite get the hang of yet.

“You probably wouldn’t even win the Olympics,” Surge replied. “Whatever that is.” He clapped his hands together. “Now that I’ve fixed you up let’s get your Personal Administrative online. I must admit I’m looking forward to seeing how the current ‘you’ is ranked by the Administrative.”

“Don’t tell me you performed that procedure so I could get a better score on the Administrative,” Warden said, to resounding silence. “Right, you wouldn’t give me dangerous surgery just to increase the numbers.”

“I could literally rip off your head and bring you back to life with no ill effects,” Surge responded immediately shaking his head. “That ‘dangerous surgery’ is something I could perform intoxicated. Your poor condition just offended my sensibilities and I thought I could showcase my skills so that you have a better idea of my abilities.”

“Well it’s certainly effective,” Warden said as swung his legs off of the bed. There was effortlessness to his movements now that he wasn’t used to. The moment he applied any force using his muscles he would overexert himself and his limbs would violently twitch although he felt no resulting pain. “I suppose this does confirm that you are a surgeon with skills beyond all but the wildest dreams of humanity.”

“Flatterer,” Surge said but he sounded quite pleased at the compliment. “I just have access to more advanced technology. Now let’s see how you’ve integrated with the Administrative.”

Reginald Strauss

Warden of Coldreach

Race: Human

Threat Class: 0

Combat Strength: 8

Strength: Below Average

Speed: Average

Durability: Extremely High

Power: High

Affinity

Psi-2.15

Mag-N/A

Chi-N/A

Current Skills Mastery:

Untrained Precognition

Implanted Augments:

Black Bones

Current Benefits: None

Current Curses: None

“What the hell are Black Bones?” Warden asked looking at the updated ranking. “What did you replace my bones with?”

“I replaced your bones with fresh, stronger but still normal human bones,” Surge said. “Except for your skull, I’m not touching that without the proper equipment. After that I simply injected a sample of Black Bones from my own body into yours and stimulated it to spread around your body.”

“Necromancers have Black Bones?” Warden asked.

“This one does,” Surge clarified pointing his thumb at his chest. “Black Bones are a defensive liquid that can be injected into the body that moulds with bones and provides a lot of useful benefits. My mother gave it to me as a gift when I left the nest and it’s saved my life once or twice.”

“I feel like some line has been crossed somewhere,” Warden said. He had already been contemplating transhumanism but wasn’t there supposed to be consent or at least more than a few forms to fill out. This felt like a situation in which he should be angry but he couldn’t quite muster it.

“As long as it isn’t the line between life and death I’m fine with it,” Surge said sitting down next to him. “You’ve nearly crossed that final frontier twice in just two days. I don’t know if you have a death wish or something but there is a lot riding on your shoulders and you’ve already hired me to keep you alive so I’m going to do my job.”

“I hired you to keep a lot of people alive,” Warden rebutted half-heartedly. “Why didn’t you give it to Wendy? She wades into the thick of battle a lot more than I do.”

“She can wade into battle because her species has tremendous physiological reserves,” Surge refuted. “Injuries that would kill you instantly would be a momentary irritation for her and once again I would like to emphasise that I didn’t have to expend my energy keep her away from hereafter twice in two days.”

“It sounds pretty bad when you say it like that,” Warden admitted. “You also have to take care of the prisoners.”

“All two of them sitting in an isolated cell,” Surge said. “I don’t know if you’ve looked yet but they’re not the unhygienic gaols you would find on medieval worlds. They’re actually quite sanitary. I’ve already fixed up Exinaught after what your bodyguard did to him; otherwise I can assure you he wouldn’t be breathing right now.”

“So you’re going to fix me up regardless of my wishes then?” Warden asked. “What if I fired you?”

“I would just continue working,” Surge said his flippant attitude falling away to reveal a deadly serious expression. “Frankly speaking both you and Wendy are way weaker than me and there’s no way that you could force me to do anything.” Despite his aggressive words his tone was matter-of-fact as if he was pointing out the weather. “Choir certainly could if he wasn’t crippled so greatly but as he is now I think I’m safe.” He paused for a moment before his face melted into a smile. “Of course, if the two of you became strong enough to force me to leave then I could do so without any guilt knowing that you could probably survive.”

“Then I suppose I have no choice,” Warden said shrugging his shoulders. If he couldn’t change things then there was no point in getting himself worked up about it. Besides, his surgeon didn’t seem malicious and all things aside he owed him his life twice over. He would be pretty annoyed to if he fixed somebody up and they went and ruined all his hard work. “Can you teach me how to get strong then?”

“I know very little about Psionics,” Surge admitted. “And the improvements that I made to your body are about the limit I can do with what I have here. I can think of some exercises to try and train your abilities but I still advise resting for a week. You overstressed your Psionics remember, what is your current Psionic affinity?”

“2.15,” Warden admitted.

“What?” Surge responded immediately. “Okay that is…not what I was expecting. Okay no Psionics for nine days. “That’s a scary improvement for just a couple days and while I fixed the brain damage I really think you should let your mind rest.”

“I’m already taking your advice on everything else,” Warden agreed. “Maybe I can practice shooting or take up martial arts or something.”

“Learn Martial Arts from whom?” Warden asked. “I don’t know them; Wendy doesn’t seem to use them. Maybe you can ask Choir but even then Angels are just built differently from humans.”

“So I can only practice shooting then,” Warden said. “Think there’s a firing range.”

“If there is then it isn’t a room I’ve seen before,” Surge admitted standing up and offering his hand to Warden. After a moment he took it and shuffled forward feeling how sharp and strong the motions of his limbs were suddenly as he almost jumped out of the bed before he was caught and set down. “We can find an empty room and you can try shooting at me. It will be good to practice on a live target.”

“If you’re confident enough,” Warden said drily as he shook his limbs off trying to get used to the feeling. The buzzing feeling had faded but his limbs still felt unusually light. “By the way what was the thing that caused you to seal off the bathhouse?” the sudden thought had stuck with him for a while but he hadn’t found a good chance to ask it. “Was it even more powerful then you if you couldn’t beat it?”

“I didn’t see it,” Surge admitted. “It was invisible, maybe intangible, and if it hadn’t been watching me I doubt I would have detected it. The thing tracked me every step of the way until I returned to Choir and only then did the thing flee back to the bathhouse. My concern is if it eyes me warily and only runs from Choir then it will swallow you or Wendy within a few bites.”

“I guess there’s always a bigger fish,” Warden stated as he tried flexing his muscles finding his balance was slightly off.

“I never said it was a fish,” Surge replied crossing his arms. “But good guess I suppose. I do have the feeling that it was aquatic in nature. Label that as a problem for much later. I have a medical shower in the neighbouring room that you can use if you really need to clean yourself.”

“I will,” Warden said. “So what threat class would it be?” he asked. “The Anachrobot was one, I am zero, this creature would be…”

“Three hopefully,” Surge replied. “Wendy is a two if you are wondering. That ghost you ‘fought’ was a very weak one.”

“I noticed you didn’t include yourself in that list,” Warden asked. “So are you class three as well?”

“No comment. Ask me when you’re stronger,” Surge said succinctly. “The scale is logarithmic so your average class three is way more powerful than a class two.”

“But if Wendy is a class two then why did she struggle against the Anachrobot?” Warden asked.

“Maybe you should ask her when she gets back.” Surge replied. “Although who knows when that will be.”

“I do,” the voice of red owl spoke, his voice seemingly appearing from nowhere. “And the answer is two minutes ago. She has returned with ample food but also with injuries that need immediate attention.”

“Surge,” Warden said stepping forward and walking towards the door powering through that off-balance feel. “What happened to tremendous physiological reserves anyway?” he said with a slight hint of resentment, although more at the gods of irony then towards the Necromancer.

“Well let’s hope her food provides a less bitter taste than my words,” Surge stated his voice a far cry from his usual cheer.