Hey all, sorry for the delay. This year has thrown a few curveballs, but I'm still here. I can tell you this chapter has been extremely difficult; it has been written and re-written several times.

I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 18

The Tech-Priest drove as fast as he could (speed limits permitting) back to the Manufactorum in his Ford Pinto. Some onlookers gave curious glances, while others seemed excited. Ever since the shutdown of Looking-Glass, many eyes have been drawn to Filus Detroitus, hoping to see the new 'hero' of their city.

While Cardsharp was aware of them and, to a certain extent amused; other problems plagued his cybernetic mind. ++ Why was the alarm tripped? ++ Tech-Priest radioed over the encrypted AdMech frequency, ++ Report ++

++ Automatic alert, sir++ Skitarii 07, the current security observer on shift, replied ++ Ever since the new Manufactorum defence system was activated it has been having trouble determining the difference between a threat and non-threat. It's still a little twitchy ++

Truth be told it was working just fine. Cardsharp's memory banks were perfectly clear regarding Manufactorum defence protocols. The defence system was simple but effective; destroy anything that is not AdMech. During the Subsector Marxian Campaign, the Manufactorum were the last bastions of Imperium dominance left in the heretical system before reinforcements arrived.

If anything Cardsharp was in violation of sacred tradition for trying to create a defence system that does not automatically destroy anything that approaches a sacred temple of the Cult Mechanicus. But unique times call for unique measures, and as much as tradition was something Tech-Priest held dear to his mechanical hearts, he feared for the future of the Adeptus Mechanicus should he risk the ire of the Justice League and the current governments on Terra.

Cardsharp ran through a list of possible explanations. ++ Can we verify a threat? Or is it another flock of pigeons again?++

++ Negative, Sir.++ Skitarii 07 tapped away on the keyboard. ++ System detected several dozen unknowns approaching by foot.++

++Where?++ Cardsharp muttered. ++Is it those damn kids again?++

++Negative sir, they are new. They are approaching from the west, Gate A3.++

++Are they armed?++

+Negative++

++They are not trying to climb over the wall? Or use a drone?++

++Negative. They are just standing in front of the gate. Wait…..++ Skitarii 07 paused, ++Now they are knocking on Gate A3. They are asking for you personally.++

Cardsharp's interest was piqued, ever since the shutdown of Wonderland and Looking-Glass there have been the odd attempts at entering the premises. Most of the citizens of Detroit were either too scared or too ambivalent to actually approach. Sure there was the occasional teenager out on a dare, a concerned citizen that was just a little too concerned or worse still a 'journalist' that was too nosy for their own good, but they quickly learned the wisdom of the maxim 'curiosity killed the cat'.

The Treaty of the Bat Cave ensured they were not liquidated, and key tenets of the Cult Mechanicus would ordinarily reward such flagrant heresy with Servitude Imperpituis…but as Cardsharp loathed to be reminded, these were not ordinary times.

'Unique times call for unique measures' was an adage the young adept realised he was relying on a little too often. What would Master Kyriz think of me now? Cardsharp dreaded. To comprise on the tenants of faith is unbecoming of a Tech-Priest, especially from the Holy Forge World of Mars. All I have is my faith in the Machine God, and the hope that Master Kyriz would be proud of me.

Considering the circumstances, the Tech-Priest settled for a conservative electrical shock. Nothing lethal; just a humble reminder of Cardsharp's emphasis on privacy. The Tech-Priest was grateful no one looked any closer, because not even he knew what he would do if trespassers witnessed any of the secret work Cardsharp was undertaking. So far, none of the 'nosy' people have ever just walked up to one of the entrances and knocked. A first time for everything, Cardsharp thought.

++Should I deploy the defence grid?++

++No,++ Cardsharp concluded. ++Leave them to me, I am less than 2.34 minutes out. I'll ask them myself.++

++Yes, Sir.++

0o0o0o

This crowd was easy enough to spot, approximately 34 of them. But they seemed passive. No cursing. No picket signs. No cameras.

Cardsharp was reluctant nonetheless, he just spent a week getting people out of the Manufactorum; he was not interested in letting more people in. Cardsharp parked his vehicle close enough so he did not have to walk, but far enough for him to be able to scan for weapons and escape if necessary.

As he approached the crowd, Cardsharp felt several servomotors power down in relief when the scan returned negative for weapons. The crowd paused and turned to face him, and Cardsharp barely contained his surprise when he recognised several members.

"Mister Irons." Cardsharp spoke the words in way that was meant to convey greetings, but he realised it might have came off as mildly annoyed.

"Sorry to come unannounced Tech-Priest." The elder Irons nodded apologetically. "We would have called ahead but I did not have your phone number."

"If this is about the pick-ups from your compounds, I have transferred the funds into your account." Cardsharp raised a brow. "Have you not received the money yet?" The red-robed adept presumed it was the fact that he 'raided' several of ISM's compounds, effectively liquidating almost 27% of the company's inventory. Cardsharp realised that he made a deal with Henry Irons to claim however much he wanted in exchange for his son's 'repair', but taking advantage of ISM to the point of effectively rendering the entire company defunct seemed counterproductive. The Tech-Priest found it unlikely he could swing another deal like that with the United State Steel Corporation.

Besides it just seemed so….manifestly unfair to take advantage of a grieving father in that way. There was no logic behind the argument, Cardsharp just….felt it was wrong.

Regardless, once the Tech-Priest realised just how much he requestioned and how much it could coast ISM, he amended the deal to provide compensation, using 'recruitment fees' in order to ensure ISM's survival and because….it was the right thing to do. Another compromise of the tenants of faith. Master Kyriz would not be pleased.

"Oh yes. Thank you so much. But, um, it has nothing to do with money." The elder Irons smiled nervously.

"Then why are you here," Cardsharp gazed at the group of people flanking either side of him, "in numbers?"

"Look I realise how busy you are but my son insisted-" Henry Irons tried to finish, but he moved aside to reveal…

"Master Irons." Tech-Priest nodded, his surprise successfully concealed. The Tech-Priest never really expected to see the boy again; he was a bargaining chip used to secure materials for Filus Detroitus. Cardsharp would have kept tabs on him, if only to make sure the boy kept his oath. But to see him show up in front of the Manufactorum was highly unexpected.

"Tech-Priest!" John sounded jovial, a large grin on his face. John appeared to recover the procedure with grace. Even through his jeans, Cardsharp could tell how much muscle the younger Irons had regained; he could clearly walk and perhaps even run unabated. He covered himself in a grey jumper that was clearly 5 sizes too large for him, likely to hide the mechadendrite that was helping him walk. The large scar across his scalp which was used to implant specialised cerebral chips had been grown over with hair, though you could just make out the scar if you look closely. Before the Tech-Priest could enquire further, the younger Irons leaped forward wrapping his arms (as best he could) around the Tech-Priest in a hug.

= Error =

What was sure to be an endearing moment was revealed to be incredibly awkward. Adepts of the Cult of the Machine was not known for being 'touchy-feely' as the…'meat' called it. Cardsharp was no exception. Nonetheless the adept felt lost on how to deal with the younger Iron's attempt at a hug, even more so on how to disengage from it.

In the politest way possible, the Tech-Priest began shifting the dozens of coiled mechadendrite tendrils under his all-encompassing red robe around in way that did not hurt John, but it made it difficult for him to grip onto him. John, taking the hint retracted the embrace, but lost no sense of enthusiasm in his eyes. It was clear he was waiting for the Tech-Priest to initiate.

Cardsharp understood how rude it may be to get to the point, and chose to indulge the boy with 'chit-chat'. "How have you been?"

"Great!" John bubbled with excitement. "I've returned to school."

"Doing well?"

"I got straight A's." John puffed out his chest with pride.

"Impressive." Cardsharp responded. Well that's enough of that, time to get to the point. "Is there something wrong with your mechadendrite?"

"Oh no, everything's fine." John patted a bulky part of his jumper.

Cardsharp's silence conveyed his question; then why are you here?

"Please don't be mad at dad, I convinced him to come here." John still seemed hopeful.

Cardsharp remained silent; and?

"Well…" John gestured behind him and almost on cue the crowd parted to reveal children.

All of them were in John's age group, from various backgrounds and clearly suffering from wounds and injuries.

= Status: Scanning identities =

John was about to make introductions. "These are…."

"Marty Austin, Jacob Cuthbert, Bao Hg, Akiki P'Bitep, Tina Ptolemy and Gerald Snelgin." Cardsharp responded, downloading the names directly from the internet. "These six, and you, were the only survivors of the accident two years, eleven months ago." Even as Cardsharp listed the names like a bored accountant, something within him twisted. Why does this sound so familiar?

= Anomaly detected =

=Status: Scanning database. Running heuristic algorithms=

"We sat at the end of the school bus when the car made impact." John mumbled. "The police said it was the only reason we lived…."

"If you call this living." One of the adults muttered. Cardsharp realised it was one of the parents. The Tech-Priest did not bother to conduct a biological scan. By the Omnissiah, it appears John Irons was the luckiest out of all of them.

Marty and Jacob were clearly sitting next to each other during the accident, they both lost their right leg and arm, but their heads still had evidence of heavy scarring likely resulting in a brain injury. Unlike John, these two had very little to indicate that anything was still alive above the brain stem.

Bao Hg seemed to have bared the brunt of the physical impact of the accident, his body was effectively shredded, with all his limbs malformed and his body recovering (albeit very badly). Once he reached puberty, he was probably going to suffer in ways he never imagined, assuming he survived at all.

Tina Ptolemy was a pretty girl with flowing blonde hair, it was so light it almost silver. She did not suffer from any obvious physical injury, but it's clear from the neck brace and the wheelchair she was paralysed from the neck down. It was a severe paralysis considering she had to have a large machine behind the wheelchair which was presumably helping her heart beat and her lungs breathe.

Gerald Snelgin, like Tina did not appear to suffer obvious physical injury, on the other hand he was completely catatonic and was being held by a teary-eyed man; his father. Gerald was wearing a hospital gown with leads still connected to him. This put together a story of a man who stole his own son from a hospital and brought him to the Manufactorum.

= Anomaly detected =

=Status: Scanning database. Running heuristic algorithms=

The reason for their presence outside Filus Detroitus was painfully and blindingly obvious.

No. Absolutely not. Cardsharp frowned mulling over the possibilities. I have compromised enough tenants of faith. Now, I'm to bring these children into the fold?! Impossible. The adept already violated the rules by inducting John. The Tech-Priest did not have to guess how infuriated Master Kyriz would be, to so casually bring these children into the Cult without any vetting, no research, and half of them could not even swear the Oath even if they wanted to. Cardsharp is trying to build a Manufactorum, by himself, from scratch. I do not have the resources to closely monitor and check over four thousand homeless asking for a handout, much less these children several towns away. I cannot do everything! Can I?

Cardsharp's hood hid the sweat of his brow

"There are some things I cannot do." The Tech-Priest lied. "I'm sorry Master Irons, but you have wasted your time. Excuse me." He turned around to head back to his vehicle…and partially because he could not bare to face them. To break with ritual is to break with faith, Cardsharp repeated to himself, to break with ritual is to break with faith. Might Machine God, if this be your will please give me a sign.

= Anomaly detected =

=Status: Scanning database. Running heuristic algorithms=

Each step away from them, he could almost hear their hurt. "Make me walk!" Tina begged.

Cardsharp kept moving away without saying a word.

"Make me walk!" She cried even louder. Don't break stride, don't break stride. Cardsharp prayed. Be the Tech-Priest that Master Kyriz wanted you to be. Don't let the weakness of flesh stray you from the path.

= Anomaly detected =

=Status: Scanning database. Running heuristic algorithms=

On cue one of the parents, likely of Marty or Jacob ran ahead of the Tech-Priest and stopped dead in front of him, thrusting a suitcase in front of him. "This is a million dollars; cash. Everything I have. It's yours if you help."

"I do not want your money." Tech-Priest pushed the briefcase and the man aside. While easy with his strength, it did weigh on his heard to deny this man what he so desperately wanted.

The two parents of Bao Hg began to follow him crying: "请帮助我们的儿子!"

= Status: Running translation matrix =

= Result: Chinese Mandarin – Please help our son =

Tech-Priest moved towards the car as if it would shield him from what was being asked. But they moved to quickly, the parents swarmed him blocking his path.

Oh Mighty and most Holy Ominissiah, please grant me your wisdom. Grant me your most sacred knowledge. Guide me on how I must hold the tenants of faith!

The yells of desperate parents filled his audio sensors. The screams drew him back to a darker time; to the Subsector Marxian Campaign.

Enough! The dozen mechadendrites that Cardsharp kept concealed under his robe shot out in all directions in every direction like spears. The mechadendrites moved slow enough to not injure someone, but fast enough to hurt if they did not get out of the way. Several people yelped in pain, others were quick enough to dodge. This created a two metre bubble giving the Tech-Priest much needed breathing room to think and regroup. I pray to thee O'Glorious Machine God, if this be your will, give me a sign.

= Anomaly detected =

=Status: Scanning database. Running heuristic algorithms=

The information flooded Cardsharps mind with unerring abandon; his mind turning away from the dilemma he faced and into the safety of scripture.

= Result: Marty Austin - Au – Gold - Aurum =

= Result: Jacob Cuthbert - Cu –Copper – Cuprum =

= Result: Akiki P'Bitep - Pb - Lead – Plumbum =

= Result: Bao Hg – Hg - Mercury – Hydrargyrum =

= Result: Tina Ptolemy - Pt – Platinum – Platina=

= Result: Gerald Snelgin – Sn - Tin – Stannum=

=Result: Hymns of Apostle-Saint Ferrock 17:01 - 17:15 =

Apostle-Saint Ferrock? Cardsharp could scarcely believe it. 'The Tale of the Man of Steel'?

"And lo! A Man of Steel, with a heart forged with Iron sought the wisdom of the holiest of sites, the Grand Temple of the Omnissiah. But t'was not as anticipated. For a Guardian stood in his way.

'I am he, who guard the gates to true wisdom! I am he, who stands alone against heretics and xenos and mutants!' the Guardian laid forth. 'Who are ye, with no offerings, to dare presume entrance and access the knowledge of the Universe?!'

However, the Man of Steel was cunning and blessed with divine foresight brought offerings to the Guardian. 'Fear not, thy noble and mighty Guardian for I have brought forth six sacred metals for which the Mars may wield.'

'The noble Aurum cometh first! Thus in turn did the durable Cuprum! The grand cloak of Plumbum! The ever mischievous Hydrargyrum! The ever precious Platina! And the father of Bronze, Stannum!'

'These gifts are not worthy of the Omnissiah!' said the vain and arrogant Guardian of the Temple. 'Begone cretin and wallow in your ignorance.'

'Hark not,' said the Man of Steel, 'for I shall swear upon these noble metals as if they were from my own blood. They shall light the way to a new and glorious age! In the Machine God's name!'

'Blasphemer!' The Guardian roared. 'You dare presume the God the Machine speaks to you!'

'I do! And shall prove it you!' The Man of Steel laid these at the feet of the feeble minded and the sceptical. But hark! Upon blessing these metals, the offerings turned into Men.

'Silence you imperious swine!' the Metal Men chanted, 'Do you not know you are in the presence of the future of the Adeptus Mechanicus?!'

The Guardian, engulfed by the might of these words, was laid low and humbled akin to Horus.

And there was much rejoicing, for a true Son of the Omnissiah had revealed itself to Mars. Thus was born a new and glorious golden age of the 4th planet of Sol."

'The Man of Steel'. Every Tech-Priest dreamed of becoming the Man of Steel, a hero and role model of the Omnissiah. But the similarities of what is happening…deep in Cardsharp's mechanical heart, he felt dread….am I…the Guardian? The hubris that plagues the heart of the Adeptus Mechanicus?

John finally broke the eerie silence. "I know why you are saying 'no' Tech-Priest."

Uh-oh. Cardsharp felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up."It's because of the Oath." John realised. "They cannot all swear the Oath, and so you cannot accept them. Not all of them can accept so you have to turn them all away."

Tech-Priest's mind reeled, one of his many cybernetic relay chips started spouting gibberish code. Cardsharp made sure to keep his face covered by his red hood, to hide his facial features.

"I know they all cannot swear the Oath as I did." John pleaded behind him. "But I will swear for them."

Henry Irons was not willing to allow that. "John don't-!"

"I will vouch for them!" John's promise carried a heavy silence and a heavy burden.

Cardsharp froze, his embarrassment and fear vanished in the face of cold Mechanicus doctrine. "You do realise what you have committed yourself too…and the burden you will bare?" The Tech-Priest glared at the younger Irons with an optic mechadendrite. "Your obligations have increased tenfold."

"I do." John spoke with a resoluteness that the Tech-Priest had never seen. Perhaps….is this the Omnissiah's Will?

= Status: Running Heuristic Algorithms =

=Result: Inconclusive – Synchronicity – Prophecy - Divine Providence =

It could be a coincidence, but the chances of it must be a statistical impossibility; six children crippled in bus that share names similar to six sacred elements were brought to a Manufactorum by a boy call John Henry Irons. It could be a coincidence but it could be something more….so much more. Let my faith guide me true.

Cardsharp opened communication with the Manufactorum. ++ Open the gate A3 ++

++ Sir? ++

++ You heard me. Open the gate ++ The large steel reinforced wall began to split inwards opening Filus Detroitus to the world.

"Get in." Cardsharp ordered the distraught parents. "Before I change my mind."

If this truly is as the Omnissiah wills it, so shall it be.

0o0o0o

It happened in a matter of hours, wave after wave of news stories began to focus on what was going on in Detroit, Michigan.

"Michelle Carniel of WXYZ 7 Action News with a major news story. After months of speculation behind these walls at the old Ford River Rouge Plant, it appears that the rumours of a new hero in the heart of Detroit have been confirmed. However, this is no ordinary hero. In addition to the regular community policing conducted by other members of the Justice League, our hero, known only as 'Tech-Priest' provides community care and has provided sanctuary to some four thousand homeless. In addition, using as yet unknown methods has been able to, much to everyone shock, fix people and giving individuals as second chance. Just now six children, victims of the school bus crash nearly 3 years ago, walked out of the old River Rouge Plant. This has been a fascinating development considering these children were considered beyond medical help. In fact here comes one now. Hi there what's your name?"

"My name is…Marty Austin."

"What happened in their Marty?"

"The Tech-Priest….he…he healed me."

"It was a miracle!"

"I'm sorry, sir you are?"

"Johan Austin, I'm Marty's father. I could not believe it. Thank God."

"No dad...Thank the Omnissiah."

0o0o0o

John took the opportunity to steal himself away from the celebration. Press, journalists, flashing lights, it was like being a celebrity. He was happy, (especially for Marty) but it was very overwhelming. John walked back into the central compound of Filus Detroitus heading towards what was called 'Shell A'; where he last saw Cardsharp.

As he crossed the barrier he felt an immediate shift in mood. Large crowds in awe and wonder were replaced with a sparse barren concrete field, with nothing but large warehouses and roving patrols of red-robed individuals.

The sound of voices and camera shutters and jubilation were replaced with the quiet buzzing of ticking clocks, mechanical humming and electrical sparks. It carried through the air from every direction.

As he approached John felt the hairs on his neck stand, and he got the feeling he was being watched by hundreds of eyes. Standing in front of the main entrance to Shell A stood two of those robotic soldiers. They did not move an inch, but he could feel their gaze behind those strange illuminated metal eye-pieces.

He stopped right in front of them. The latest in Irons line did not make a sound and neither did they.

"H-hi." John smiled meekly. "I…I was hoping to speak to Tech-Priest."

Nothing. I think I might have made a horrible mistake.

"Go on ahead kid." One of the mechanical forms spoke so suddenly it made John jump.

"Really?" John asked.

"Really." The robot still stood like a statue. "You're one of us now."

"One of you?" John felt himself sweat.

"You carry a testament of your faith with you." The red robed soldier finally nodded, tilting its head towards the machine on John's hip.

Despite the miraculous device being hidden under the large jumper he wore, John instinctively raised his hand to shield it. Ever since he was healed he felt great elation, but also great fear. It was terrifying, knowing that the machine he was attached to was the only thing that kept him from turning back into what he once was. Even after all the time that passed he still had nightmares of waking up back in that chair. John would not anyone look at it, much less touch it, not even his own parents.

"Relax kid." The other form let out a sound that could only be described as a stalling car. It took John a moment to realise that it was laughing. "Disciples of the Cult Mechanicus have nothing to fear here. Go on."

John gingerly moved past them to enter the massive complex that used to be factory. But it was not filled with the assembly lines, hydraulics or other machines that he expected.

It felt quite barren, and yet…it felt sacred. Like an empty church.

Great large statues lined the sides of the building, some looked human, some did not. At the very end was what could only be described as a large alter. A table at the centre, with a variety of machines both familiar and foreign. Beyond that, where you would normally find the key item of worship such as the Cross or the Torah, was a large figure; a skull that was half human, half machine encompassed in a metal cogwheel.

Woah…. John stood in awe.

The sound of an engine backfiring jolted him out of his thoughts. The young Irons zeroed in on the source which came from the aisle to his right.

It was Tech-Priest; the man who healed him. His hood was down, revealing his clean faced features and his eye forged from red writhing lights. He was leaning back in a large metal chair, almost as large and wide as a throne but was clearly designed for functionality than to aspire awe; computer terminals on either side of the chair flashed with hundreds of lines of information that John could barely make out.

"Tech-Priest." John smiled.

"Master Irons."

"Why aren't you out there celebrating?" The young Irons asked. "Are you okay?"

"I am not one for celebrations. And after the procedures," Tech-Priest shifted his form under the robes, "I am too tired to participate." Tech-Priest's considerable bulk vanished, replaced with a crumpled and hollowed out form. Like John, the Tech-Priest had to resort to using some of his own components to fix the injuries of those who survived that terrible crash.

"I wanted to say thank you." John gestured to the Shell's exit. "For what you did, for them and for me."

"I did nothing." Tech-Priest's red eye seemed to twist effectively 'glancing' at one of the screens next to him. "I merely provided the tools for their own salvation, and for yours. Anything is possible when you have faith in the Omnissiah."

"Come on Tech-Priest, you don't have to be modest." John gleamed. "No one could do what you did. You preformed a miracle!"

And just like that, Tech-Priest's blank expression hardened. "Careful, Master Irons." The Tech-Priest glared, and John felt like a withering flower. "You tread close to heresy. I have already told you once, your gratitude should lie with only one being." A prehensile mechandrite shifted out of his robe and slowly pointed to John's peripheral. John traced it the giant skull-cogwheel vigil at the front.

"The Omnissiah?"

"Yes." The mechandrite folded back into the Tech-Priest's robes. "That is the Opus Machina, more commonly known as the Cog Mechanicum."

"Is that what the Omnissiah looks like?"

"Not literally." Tech-Priest looked through his screens. "The Opus Machina represents a perfect fusion of flesh and machine. It is the embodiment of what the Omnissiah is and the inevitable goal of followers of Cult Mechanicus."

"Even me?" John blanched, that sounded…very extreme.

"Every adept takes their own journey." Tech-Priest sounded nonplussed. "You have already taken the first step in yours."

"I…I have?….I don't know about that." John chuckled nervously. The Tech-Priest finally looked up from the screens to gaze at the young Irons, the gaze of his glowing red eye making the youth very uncomfortable, as if it was looking a little too closely.

"Really?" He gestured to John's side. John realised that his hands already reflexively touched the machine on his hip. The slightest movement caused a tingling up his spine. "Even now you guard your mechadendrite so ferociously." The side of Tech-Priest's mouth twitched, supressing an amused smirk. "As if the machine spirit were your own child. Perhaps more so."

John felt embarrassed, but still his hands never left the mechandrite sitting on his hip. He just felt so…vulnerable. John's feelings must have been apparent for the Tech-Priest attempted to sound reassuring. "Do not take what I said as a negative. I consider it a sign of excellent character."

"You do?" John felt a little better, for some time he feared he may have been overreacting.

"I do." Tech-Priest's returned to his more 'monotone' voice. "But I presume you did not come here all alone just to discuss tenants of faith."

John's face contorted into something akin to surprise, but settled into a form of internal conflict as if he was recollecting something. "I've been having dreams."

Tech-Priest's red eye flickered from the screens back to the young Irons. "Dreams?"

"Really…really intense dreams. They are incredibly real." John blinked several times.

"Hmm. It could be the neural relay chip." The Tech-Priest began typing away at the screens. "Have you been having headaches or unusual pains?"

"No, but….I've been having some kind of itch…in my head" John reached into his jacked and pulled out a series of papers. "Drawing seems to help."

"With the itch?" Tech-Priest once again stopped looking at the screens and gazed at John, with renewed interest. "What did you draw?"

"What I see in my dreams." John held the papers in his hand. "It's being going on for several weeks. With every week, the pile grows larger. I did not really understand until….well…"

The silence was deafening.

"…give me the drawings." Tech-Priest held out an expectant hand. Irons complied pulling the drawings from under his jumper. The papers were large yet thin, the kind of paper used for designer or architecture plans. The papers were well-worn as a result of being folded and unfolded many times over. The Tech-Priest unfolded the large papers and as he processed the drawings…

"You dreamt this?" Although the Tech-Priest's voice betrayed nothing, Irons could have sworn he saw the adept's mouth gape in surprise; dozens of optical cameras slithered out of his robe and huddled around the drawings like excited school children looking over a dissected frog.

"Y-yes." The youngest irons blushed. "My dad helped me with some of the more complex things."

The Tech-Priest said nothing, did nothing, he just sat there rigid and frozen. The young Irons was almost tempted to wave his hands in front of the adept, to snap him out of his trance.

The red-robed cyborg finally looked up, eyes and optical cameras both. Despite wearing clothes, John felt unpleasantly naked. When the Tech-Priest spoke, it was slow and deliberate – each word pronounced with a precision rarely seen outside of elocution lessons.

"Master Irons, I foresee great things in your future."

0o0o0o

The Light's investigations were ground to a sudden halt. After all what was the point, when the news was pointing to the Tech-Priest's location with a big red sign. The Light nonetheless had their own methods and watched in earnest as they received visuals from the secret optic camera lens that overlayed their agent's right eye. "This is Sportsmaster," their agent radioed "are you reading me?"

"We read you loud and clear." L-2 replied. "Any complications?"

"Negative. The influx of homeless was the perfect distraction. So far I have remained undetected." Sportsmaster whispered. "Are your getting my signal?"

"Yes we are." L3 answered, but it was clear that he was also communicating with some technicians on his end. "The signals is a little garbled, but acceptable. We will try and clear it up nonetheless."

"Stay off the radio." L-7 ordered. "In fact, destroy your transceiver right now. I do not want the Tech-Priest to track our signal."

"What if I need to contact you?" You could almost hear Sportsmaster roll his eyes. "Aren't you being a little cautious?"

"Do. Not. Question. Me. Worm." L-7 growled clearly not it the mood for any kind of repartee. "If you get caught, you are on your own." But some of the Light were not so easily convinced, after what the Tech-Priest just did, some would suggest the Adeptus Mechanicus is a noble organisation.

"This is the boy you fear so much Klarion?" L5 mused. "With all he's doing for the community he could be a valuable ally from a public relations perspective. More so than a so-called Lord of Chaos."

"Enough Ocean Master." L1 commanded. "Klarion is there an explanation for this?"

Klarion mulled it over, mumbling in some arcane language that made others hear it every uncomfortable. "Near as I can tell, standard induction protocols."

"Induction?" L4 leant forward, her ears attentive.

"Remember the phrase 'any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.' Well AdMech embody that phrase in everything they do. I've never seen it myself, but I heard whispers of what happens when the Adeptus Mechanicus colonises a planet." Klarion recounted what he knew. Although many would barely notice, Vandal Savage had been around long enough to recognise the Lord of Chaos' tone; like a tired veteran of a long war. "It starts out small. You solve some basic problems. Energy shortages, perhaps solve a couple of criminal issues like gangs. Then you substitute standard services with Mechanicus services. Who would not take up your offer? Free water, reliable electricity, good food and all for nothing in return? I cannot imagine any civilisation not volunteering even the most rudimentary of services to be run by the Adeptus Mechanicus." Klarion paused slightly and the more attentive noticed something akin to a shiver crawling up the demon's spin. "Then they hit you with the coup de grace. Miracles."

"Miracles?" L6 queried.

"People on the brink of death being brought back to life. People who were confined to wheelchairs walking of their own volition. The elimination of disease, pain and suffering, the ability to cheat death….If that does not sound like divine assistance I don't know what is." Klarion sounded positively livid. "Then, when you are so reliant on them you cannot survive without them, when you cannot even imagine a world where the Adeptus Mechanicus were not there…then they hit you with their demands."

"Money?" L3 asked.

"Cog-boys care not for money." L-7's screen flickered. "Small demands at first. Cleaning, gathering materials, moving stuff around. Then they start asking for more, and more and more. Before you know it, they are demanding that you provide your first born child to them as an offering to the Omnissiah; a token of gratitude to the Machine God. And that's it; game over."

L2 broke the strange eerie silence. "And if they say no?"

L7 responded with condemnation and, one could swear, almost a tinge of fear. "The Machine God giveth….the Machine God taketh away…and more. Much, much more."

0o0o0o

"You dreamt this?"

"Y-yes. My dad helped me with some of the more complex things."

Cardsharp held the plans in hands like the sacred treasure it was. By the Omnissiah, the Tech-Priest's mind reeled, these are design schematics for a Thunder Hammer?!

= Status: Searching Database =

= Result: Match found. Oplicato Pattern Thunder Hammer – Omnissiah Explorator Class =

But that was impossible, the cybernetic components that the Tech-Priest removed from his own body and implanted into John, did not contain of the files on weaponry whatsoever, including and especially a Thunder Hammer. Just to be safe, Cardsharp wiped the memory drives from the cerebral link component personally. Twice.

'This is impossible'. Cardsharp's mind churned through all the possibilities, each one as impossible as the other. 'How did he know the schematics for a Thunder Hammer?! He even got the slight dent at the bottom groove of the hilt exactly the same too.'

= Status: Analysing factors. Running Heuristic Algorithms =

Cardsharp did not necessarily expect anything helpful. It was impossible. This could not happen, would not happen. Ever.

But….something was nagging red-robed Adept, an instinct which told him otherwise. It is a long shot but it has already happened once…Check the Hymns of Apostle-Saint Ferrock again.

= Status: Narrowing parameters to Sacred Texts/Manuals/Words/Commentary=

= Result: Hymns of Apostle-Saint Ferrock 18.42- 18:44 =

There it is, Cardsharp silently cursed. Of course it was; how could I have not known that? He did not need to access the data of that sacred tome, he knew from heart:

"The Man of Steel searched the great unknown, and was bequeathed a vision from the Omnissiah. Pure of heart was he, his mind open to His Holy Will and was rewarded thusly – a map that guided the man of Steel not to troves of Aurum, but to a hammer forged from thunder and lightning. The Man of Steel brought it back to his temple and celebrated the might of the Machine God – for the Almighty had rewarded his faith with a weapon that may serve His Will – whether it be to create shells for the most noble of machine spirits or to destroy the wicked that impede the path of the righteous."

The Man of Steel, a noble story if there ever was one. Cardsharp recalled it from his youth; a fundamental sacred text of the Cult Mechanicus doctrine used by the Tech-Priest's to help instil (or 'install') good AdMech values into aspiring acolytes. It was a bedtime story told to aspiring acolytes if they worked hard and exceeded their quotas on the Manufactorum floor; his universe's equivalent of Ferdinand, Madeline, The Ugly Duckling, or Jack and the Beanstalk.

It was a story, but now….Cardsharp looked at the young boy in front of him…now it could be more.

= Status: Running Heuristic Algorithms =

=Result: Inconclusive – Synchronicity – Prophecy - Divine Providence =

One event fitting scripture, perhaps. But two?

=Result: Inconclusive - Prophecy - Divine Providence =

I went back in time through an alternative universe. 'A crack in the multiverse' as Wonder Woman called it.

=Result: Inconclusive - Divine Providence =

'Divine Providence', Cardsharp mulled those two words his cybernetic mind. Is it possible?

Cardsharp finally shifted his optics to take a look at John Henry Irons, a real good look. The universe is built on rules set forth by the Machine God. The Machine God is not one to make up new rules and thus when it chooses to express its divine will, it does so through precedent. And there is no greater precedent then that which was set forth in scripture. If this was an attempt by the Machine God, if the Omnissiah's Will was carried through to this universe…then John could be more than just a sign. He could be a symbol, a beacon, an acolyte, an equal and perhaps even….a successor?

"Master Irons, I foresee great things in your future."

A radio signal from outside interrupted his train of thought. ++ Sir? ++

++ What is it? ++

++ We have a group of people outside hoping to see you ++

++ The parents? Oh by the Omnissiah, reporters?++ Cardsharp shivered in rage.

++ No, sir. They are getting nowhere near here. It's some of Michigan's Menials ++

Cardsharp stood up and went to the front of Shell A wondering what the hell is going on. "I thought I told you that access to…oh" That is a lot more than I anticipated.

Hundreds of them stood out front of Shell A, hushed whispers and stoic body language. Out front of the group was Dobbs, with his eyes on the floor and looking mighty shy.

"Mister Dobbs, what happened?" Cardsharp's heart raced. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's find TP." Dobbs replied in hushed tones. "It's just…"

Cardsharp allowed his silence to carry his question of what they were doing here.

"What you did was a miracle TP." Dobbs furrowed his hands. "We were wondering how?"

"As I was telling my young colleague, Master Irons," Cardsharp pointed a spare mechadendrite at the boy behind him, "anything is possible with the might of the Omnissiah."

Again Dobbs went very quiet.

"Mister Dobbs, I am quite busy, if there is nothing else-" Cardsharp paused when Dobbs held up a hand, like a student waiting for permission to speak.

"I…we…we know you have not shared too much about the Cult Mechanicus because you did not think it was worth explaining it to us." Dobbs spoke his words carefully as if he memorised this speech beforehand. "But if you are willing….we would like you to tell us about it."

Cardsharp remained impassive, like a statue. Seconds passed, then minutes and just when Dobbs was about to cough to get his attention, the Tech-Priest spoke. "I'm about to go for my afternoon prayer. Would you care to join me for a sermon?"

"I think…" Dobbs smiled. "I think we would all like that."

Underneath his red robe Cardsharp allowed a small smile.

Adeptus Mechanicus, meet the world. World, meet the Adeptus Mechanicus.

0o0o0o

Well on the plus side I have finally breached the 100,000 mark. Hooray!

I hope you fellas enjoyed it. I'll publish another chapter when I can, though honestly I don't know when that will be.

Review and PM as always.

Take care!