So. About this story. Aoki Hagane no Arpeggio, or, The Arpeggio of Blue Steel, has been one of my favorite series for a while. I found the manga 2011, and was thoroughly pleased with the TV adaptation despite the difference in characterization. Because manga Iona is metal as fuck and it is excellent.

I love the idea of the Mental Models, how the Fog decided to make human-like avatars so they could experience causality and emotion to help better understand human tactics, but inadvertently developing free will and their own personality flaws at the same time.

I also love transhumanism. I've always planned for this story to be about Taylor going beyond being human. I wavered for a bit on what series/powers to work with, and ultimately the choices were between Aoki Hagane, GitS, Gunnm (Battle Angel Alita/Gally), and Metal Gear Solid's Raiden. The last two would have had her scaling up slowly to their level.

But in the end I decided I wanted to go more extreme. So Taylor isn't a cyborg. She doesn't have a human brain. She isn't even really human anymore. And she knows it. So that theme of questioning your own humanity and trying to discover what it means to be human and what defines us (as seen in both Gunnm and GitS) will be showing up in this story as Taylor learns more and more about what she really is, trying to cement her own humanity even as it slips further out of her fingers.

I hope you enjoy it.

Now let's get this show on the road.

Transposition: The shifting of a melody, a harmonic progression or an entire musical piece to another key, while maintaining the same tone structure, i.e. the same succession of whole tones and semitones and remaining melodic intervals.

— Musikalisches Lexicon, 879 (1865), Heinrich Christoph Koch (trans. Schuijer)

Diatonic 1.1
April 8th, 2011

It wasn't that I was worried about it all. I was worried, it was just the worry I felt was significantly more specific. And justified, from my perspective.

I was constantly worried the changes that had happened to me three months ago would be noticed.

That I didn't need glasses anymore.

That my skin couldn't be cut.

That I could easily rip a three-inch thick steel plate in half like it was a piece of paper.

That "I", my whole personality, what made me me, was just software.

That now, I wasn't human.

Instead, I was a simulation, an AI running on a quantum computer and surrounded by a shell of nanomaterial in the shape of a fifteen year-old girl.

Finding that out had been shock, to put it lightly. Because the way I'd reacted was about as close to 'shock' as C-4 is to a hydrogen bomb. Thankfully I'd been alone.

Once I recovered, I'd immediately started to research what had happened to me. And what I found was disheartening. There were stories of capes that had changed somehow when they triggered, their bodies mutating or changing. And there was no way back. It was permanent.

For them, the obvious ones at least, the changes made it hard for them to live a normal life. I was just hoping I still could. Three months in to faking that everything was normal, and it seemed like a distinct possibility. …But I was still understandably a bit paranoid about the entire 'I am now a mass of tiny machines' thing. Not to mention I avoided thinking about it as much as possible. That road led to madness.

My dad hadn't noticed, thankfully, but… well, we didn't really have the best relationship or see each other all that often.

Now, I didn't need to worry about myself, my physical well-being. Now, I just had to worry about–

"Hey, Taylor~"

them.

I sighed, shutting my locker door and turning to look at Emma. The girl was surrounded by her usual posse, flanked by Sophia on her right and Madison on her left.

([Reducing primary emotion-emulation processes and sub-threads to 60% operational capacity])

"Yes, Emma?"

My voice was dead, flat. I was so tired of all of this. Of how they tormented me. Of how they constantly worked to undermine, sabotage, and tear me down. The least I could do was not give them the satisfaction of reacting.

"God, Taylor. Could you smell any more disgusting? It's like you just got worse after what happened," Emma said, holding her nose shut as the tag-alongs snickered.

I felt my eyebrows scrunch together. Her statement literally made no sense. I didn't even have sweat glands anymore. I didn't have any reason for them. There was no need for liquid channels to produce saline that would sap heat when it changed phases. I simply couldn't overheat. Ever.

But… just… wow. I had actually cared about this kind of stuff? That was like fifth-grade level at best.

I sighed, looking sadly at my estranged ex-best-friend. Emma seemed to notice and it appeared she got irritated at the complete lack of response I gave her. With a "Hmph." she closed the distance between us, and then passed by, holding her head high.

I just stood there as her group followed behind her, like the good little sycophants they were.

As Sophia walked by, she intentionally swerved and shoulder-checked me. Hard. If I'd been my old self that would have knocked me flat, but as I was now, it didn't even move me an inch. It was the first time she'd gotten physical with her assaults since …then, and for a while I thought she'd backed off completely from it, letting Emma take the lead with her own brand of torture.

It looked like I was wrong.

I watched her walk away, and she turned her head to look back over her shoulder, glaring at me worse than usual.

Fuck.

I'd have to watch my back for the rest of the day. There was no doubt I could expect something in retaliation for failing to respond to what she'd done, and I had a feeling it would be worse than usual. Before I triggered, she'd done things like pushing me aside on the stairs so hard I almost fell down them. I was also pretty sure she'd been the one to shove me in there.

I shuddered. I was so glad my newly-eidetic memory had only recorded a few seconds of being in that place before I'd broken out.

"A? Atarashii fune? Eto… nan gata? Kousokusenkan? Juujunyousenkan? Onaji ka…?" She cleared her throat and then put her fists on her hips imperiously. "Iona tte iimasu." She pointed at me. "Dare ka?"

'…what.'

I shook my head, aborting the strange memory of that short silver-haired girl.

The early bell rang, and I made my way through the crowds towards my first period class.

([Restoring emotion system to full operational capacity])

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. Madison was in Gladly's class with me, but she largely deigned not to speak with me or even focus on me. Usually.

Thankfully, today was one of those days she decided I was below her notice.

As soon as the bell rang I was heading out the door to my normal sanctuary during lunch: the girl's bathroom.

I used to eat in there. But now, well, I didn't need to eat. It was rather pointless. I could still taste, but it was more like chemical analysis than 'tasting'. And there was never anything left once I did eat, my body breaking down the entire thing and using everything, I think I made more of the nanomaterials that made up my body from it, but I wasn't sure, as I'd never noticed anything changing.

My thoughts were interrupted by the bathroom door opening, a group of chattering girls coming in. I immediately recognized the voices as Madison and Sophia. If I'd been my old self, I wouldn't have because of how they were covered by the sounds of everything else going on: sink, paper dispenser, etc.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door of the stall I was in.

Oh, fuck.

Shit shit shit shit.

If they found out I was the one in here… well, with the way Sophia had been glaring at me earlier something bad would happen. Bad for me, that is.

The knock repeated.

C'mon, think, think, think. Alright, gotta hide who I am somehow. Maybe…

Focusing on my throat, I prayed to God that my spontaneous idea would work. It should work, but I had no idea. I'd never tried anything like what I was doing.

"Occupied." I said. And the voice that came out of my throat wasn't mine. "It might be a while, sorry."

I wasn't really. They could go fuck themselves for all I cared.

The girl on the other side of the door muttered something inconsequential and moved away to another stall, knocking again. I breathed a silent sigh of relief and prayed that nothing else would happen.

Madison, Sophia and the rest of them were still chattering away as the other girl finished up and there was an additional sink running.

And then they all migrated out of the bathroom like the jackals they were.

Sighing again, I released my focus on my throat. That was… weird. I hadn't known I could do that. It had been completely spontaneous, but now it had me thinking. If I had been able to mess with my vocal chords like it was natural, what else could I do?

I'd been… avoiding anything to do with my body and the stuff that made it up for awhile because of how uncomfortable it made me just thinking about it, but maybe now it was time to start trying.

Despite having avoided anything to do with the things relating to my sudden inhumanity, I'd still managed to make some pretty crude armor out of sheets of steel I'd salvaged from the boat graveyard as a costume.

I'd settled on a solid metal plate for my face, making eye-holes by poking through the steel and then filing them until they were a good size. A pair of silver reflective lenses went in them, and then I polished the entire thing until it gleamed, the lenses not even visibly different from the rest of the blank mask. It just looked like my face was flat metal when I had it on. Kind of eerie, but it would definitely protect my identity.

The pieces of armor had leather-ish straps that I'd decided on instead of velcro, as velcro could be easily pulled apart just through solid force, where as buckled straps weren't going anywhere. The straps threaded through hard metal holders on a form-fitting black suit that was basically like those neoprene suits that divers used, except less neoprene and more… spandex-y. I'd had to save up quite a bit for that, ordering it online from a place that PHO had guaranteed was completely anonymous. And the metal flat holder-things were actually belt loops I'd also found online. For gun holsters, of all things.

That… had required some serious fudging of my age to get them. And also saving up, again. Probably illegal. Okay no, it was definitely illegal, but it was for a good cause, right?

The belt loops were bolted to small (about 2x4 inch) steel plates (again from the boat graveyard, retrieved by yours truly) and a guy I'd found at a metal shop had tapped threads into them for only two dollars since 'it was such a small thing'.

The plates sat under the spandex, the belt loops above, and bolts going through the fabric. I'd squished off the extra metal from the bolt with my fingers, and then filed them down. A piece of fabric then got sewed over the metal. Even if the plates couldn't do anything like accidentally cut my skin, it still felt weird for the cloth to be suddenly interrupted by hard metal. I think I'd done a pretty good job, but eh, it was my first time sewing, so you have to give me credit.

And thus, my costume was complete.

It reminded me of medieval armor, except less metal. More… light armor? That's what I would say it was, really. I wanted gauntlets, but I didn't exactly have the ability to make those with my current resources. So I just had bracers. Well, and upper arm stuff plus shoulder-y things (I think they're called pauldrons), and a plate for both my chest and back. And then eight pieces for my legs, back and front sections for both my thighs and lower legs.

Say whatever the hell you will about it, but I was fucking proud of my costume. The metal may have been bent and shaped by hand, but it still looked good. A heck of a lot better than a lot of costumes I'd seen new heroes using. It was one of the reasons I'd waited so long before trying to go out, because when the media finds out about a new hero, first impressions are everything. And the costume? That's a huge part of it. With a professional-looking costume I'd be seen as a real hero, not some newbie playing at it.

And I… I really thought I had a chance to make a difference. Maybe that was just a delusion or an excuse I made to myself, something every cape said, but it didn't make it any less true that I believed in it.

The day passed and my last class was Art, which I shared with Sophia.

…As you might guess, she was staring daggers at me the entire time. If looks could kill I'd have been dead twenty times over.

Somehow, I managed to ignore her and focus on the sketch we had to do, and when class was over I quickly pulled my project out of my backpack and hurried over to the teacher's desk to turn it in with everyone else's. My first goal complete, I focused on the next one, getting out of range of Sophia as fast as fucking possible. Hastily making my way out of the school, I headed towards a bus stop that wasn't the closest to Winslow just to be safe.

That girl… there was something wrong about her, and I did not want to be around her when she snapped. I knew that she couldn't hurt me, not physically like she would try, but a year and a half of conditioning isn't broken easily, and I also wanted to keep my secret identity, you know, a secret.

The bus arrived soon enough, and I got on it.

Sophia just worried me.

Emma had been my best friend. We had shared everything. For God's sake, we were practically sisters. My mom had told us that, and it had resonated with me.

And then.

Fucking AND THEN, high school happened. I come back from summer vacation and expect to see my best friend again, except something had… changed about her. She wasn't the Emma I had known. Not the one that I had faked camping in her backyard with. Not the one that had giggled with me over stupid stuff in cheesy romance novels we found.

Now, she was suddenly Sophia's friend and there wasn't enough room in her life for both of us. And for no obvious reason, she went and started bullying me.

It just… didn't make sense. People don't change like that without something huge happening. And all I could figure out was that it had something to do with Sophia, like the girl had somehow managed to brainwash my best friend into a not-Emma.

I wanted to know what had happened to my friend. I wanted to know why she actively tormented me day in and day out. I couldn't, though, because the only people I knew who could tell me about whatever had probably happened were Emma and Sophia. The chances of me being able to actually talk to them?

Pfft. Less than nil, I'd say.

I was torn. Very torn. On one hand, for the things they did to me, I wanted to kill them, an emotion I never expected to feel towards Emma. It was this smoldering, burning thing, fanned by a year and a half of persecution. But on the other hand, I just wanted my best friend back, the girl I had known for over eight years, shared my life with.

And Goddammit, I wasn't just going to let this go.

Becoming what I was, I knew I'd gotten at least marginally smarter. But I didn't expect it to change me to the extent it had. I suppose part of it was that I no longer had hormones, and so the emotional bursts that had happened regularly simply didn't anymore. I was now able to step back, to look at things more logically, distance myself from the situation.

The evidence said that something was very, very rotten in the state of Denmark.

And I intended to find out what it was.

The bus arrived at my stop, and I got off, walking the rest of the way home. Unlocking the front door, I made my way in, closing it behind me. I headed upstairs and slung my backpack off onto the floor with a 'solid' thump from all the books I brought home, a preventative measure against sabotage by the trio.

Thankfully, strength and seemingly limitless endurance definitely helped with carrying it despite its weight. Kicking my shoes off and moving them so they were under my bed, I looked over at my closet door. Almost magnetically, I was drawn to it, opening it and taking out the heavy (well, I assumed it was heavy) duffel bag with my costume in it. Each piece went on the floor, unwrapped from the old dishtowels I had wrapped each metal plate in to protect it from getting scratched up. Even just laid out on the floor it managed to look impressive to me.

Reaching for the mask, I picked it up, staring at it in my hands and the black hood and straps it was sewed to in order to keep it on my head.

Considering my costume was bright silver, I doubted I'd be mistaken for a villain. But then again, there were people like Purity who managed to completely defy a stereotype like that.

Well, I'd just have to prove myself I guess.

Originally, I'd wanted to wait until the summer to go out. But I was suddenly feeling impatient. Like I couldn't wait anymore, and that this was the right time to go out. This weekend.

My costume was done…

And if I was being completely honest with myself, I really wanted to get out and just do something after waiting three months.

Nodding to myself, I decided that this was it. I was going to do this. It was time.

I collected the pieces of armor and put them back away, and then lay down on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

Sighing, I raised my hands in front of my face. Better to just fucking get this over with.

Alright, what should I try? Maybe changing the skin color?

Focusing on that, I stared at my hands intently, willing them to do what I wanted.

([Manual control locked; required parameters not met])

After five minutes, I stopped, glaring at them in frustration. Why the hell couldn't I do this? It hadn't been like this in the restroom, I'd just… done it. But now I couldn't even bring up the feeling I'd had when it happened.

Screw it. Maybe it would happen again on its own, and then I'd get a better sense of what was going on.

The night passed uneventfully, dinner a very simple affair without my dad even there. I read my book, learning more about the three capes that everybody looked up to, the level that every cape aspired to reach. The fact that I shared Alexandria's most prized ability –her perfect memory– made me feel special, in some way. I knew I wasn't really, but it still felt like it.

I wasn't invulnerable like her, at least, I didn't think so, but I was strong, I was fast, I was a heck of a lot more damage-resistant than a normal human, and I had a perfect memory. I couldn't fly, which would have been awesome, but most capes couldn't either.

So there was that.

I could have done much worse in the power lottery. Like those Case 53's that were so non-human they couldn't live a normal life. Or I could have been someone that had serious problems –either physical or mental– because of their powers, like I heard some did.

That would've sucked.

But I didn't. Thank fucking God.

Saturday rolled around, and I mostly stayed in my room.

I was strangely beginning to get this persistent feeling that I was missing something. Like there was something fundamental I was supposed to have, but didn't.

It was a bit uncomfortable, and after a while I stopped writing in my notebook about what had happened with my powers yesterday and moved my attention to my computer and PHO. Nothing really new on there, just the usual stuff: Merchants were being assholes, the Empire Eighty-Eight was its usual rascist self and trying to expand into ABB territory slowly, and the ABB were having none of it.

Though, there was a rumor that the ABB had somehow gotten a hold of a Tinker recently. That was interesting, considering there had been only two capes in the gang before that. I wondered what their specialty was. Partly because I was curious, but also because I had no illusions about what I was going to be doing. I would be getting into cape fights. And according to the internet, "Know your enemies" was important when you were fighting. I was supposed to know myself too, but I think I had a pretty good hold on that.

Taylor Hebert. Fifteen year-old student. Magical robot girl.

Yup. That about summed it up pretty well.

Well, there was still that part of me that was screaming that I was taking all of this too well, but… I'd had three month to get used to it. I'd, at least somewhat, come to terms with the fact that I was now one of the most sophisticated pieces of technology in the world.

And it wasn't like I even noticed it usually. If I hadn't been told right out, I probably wouldn't have, either. I would have just guessed I was a normal parahuman.

But since I did, and there was no real way to unforget that, I'd become… more than a little philosophical about it. It was strange, I think, that I was questioning my existence and what humanity really was at the age of fifteen.

But… well, when you're suddenly not what you were, it tends to make you think. Like, were Case 53s human? Where did the line between human and not get drawn? I wasn't human. Not… not really. Except I was.

I had been.

I looked physically human. But unlike every other cape who was at least some part organic, I wasn't. Even Case 53s had more than me in that respect.

I wanted to say yes. That yes, I was unequivocally human. If not human, at least a person.

That because my mind hadn't changed (that I could tell) I was still Taylor Hebert.

Except, I wasn't the same Taylor Hebert that had existed four months ago. Now, instead of trillions of little squishy cells, I was reportedly made up of tiny little machines.

And the problem with that was that I couldn't say, definitively, that I was the same Taylor Hebert. If it had happened gradually, maybe yes. But it hadn't.

Instead of a heart or a brain, now I had a core that I only knew about in theory, not even sure if it really existed. No arteries or veins. No bones. No nothing. The only things I could say I had were eyes, ears, a nose, a mouth, a stomach, and something approximating lungs.

With the revelation that my body was at least semi-malleable, maybe even those things were up for grabs.

So was I still human?

There was a Case 53 Ward named Weld. His trigger had turned him into living metal. Solid metal, not like me. He was probably the closest person I could relate to. But even then… Case 53s didn't know about what they were, it was just one of those things about them. Unlike them, I knew exactly what I was.

Magical robot girl.

I may have been kidding, but it really was true. I knew what I was made of, what my little nanomachines were like, how my core used quantum nondeterminism to run my personality, because I'd been told about it all. But for all it mattered to other people, it was magic. No different than other parahumans.

Except I was.

The definition of AI is "computer systems able to perform tasks that normally require human intelligence, such as visual perception, speech recognition, decision-making, and translation between languages."

That was me. I did those things. Just, for me, it was called daily life.

So if I was a computer (as I'd been told), and I could do things like process what I saw and make decisions based on it –which I very well did, because otherwise I'd have been walking into walls all the time– I was technically an AI.

And I seriously worried about what would happen if anybody found out the truth.

There weren't very good opinions of AI on PHO. People talked about them 'going Skynet', something from some Aleph movie made in the 80's. But basically it was an AI going rogue, taking control of everything, etc etc. And there was one conspiracy nut who was always starting controversial discussions about recent computer developments and how they were "going too far".

Yeaaaaah, no.

But predictably, any Tinkers who had the potential to make something like AI were closely monitored because the public was so scared of what they might be able to do; that we'd end up having another Nilbog on our hands. Or what would happen if they were affected by the Simurgh? The amount of destruction someone like that could cause terrified people.

So me being an AI? I highly doubted that would go over well. I couldn't even do half the stuff that people thought AIs could, no magic hacking abilities or anything like that. But I doubted that would matter if people knew. So, even though I wanted to be a cape, I was resigned to not ever revealing what I was. Ever.

Sighing and trying to distract myself from the depressing thoughts, I started planning what I would do the next day. I'd decided I wouldn't go out that night, but instead wait until the next one.

Sleep was another thing I didn't need, which would make heroing all that much easier. I could sleep, and I usually did. It was one of the more strange things I'd become accustomed to rather quickly. I decided when I would wake up, and I did. Like how normal computers could be scheduled to wake from their sleep modes automatically. It was one of the few things that corroborated with what I'd been told, something that made it all that much harder to be in denial about.

…The parallels were mildly disturbing, but I'd been dealing with it for a few months at this point. I wasn't as freaked out by the fact that I didn't need anything to tell the time anymore because I just knew it . I didn't mind that I didn't need to eat anymore, though I still did when I had dinner with my dad just to keep up appearances. I wouldn't say it was all quite normal for me yet. But it was my life now, every day.

So, I just lived with it. Like I said, some capes definitely had it worse than me, so I should probably be grateful that I ended up with such a relatively benign transformation.

But it wasn't like it suddenly solved all my problems. If anything, I probably had more now.

Like how to escape your ex-best friend who's tormenting you at every opportunity while you try to figure out why the fuck it was happening in the first place.

It didn't help with that.

Too bad, too, because that would have been really helpful.

Sunday was similar, except I was an understandable bundle of nerves. It was hell waiting through the day, really just doing nothing, until my father fell asleep. Once he was, though, I pulled out my duffel bag and all of the pieces of armor, laying them out. The suit went on first, and then I started strapping the armor on, starting at my legs and then my arms. The back-piece was segmented, and so that was a bit more complex.

It was the chestpiece that I paused at. It was missing something. An image suddenly popped into my mind, and I reached my hand out, dragging my fingernail along the metal and drawing it out.

I didn't even notice the metal shavings falling to the floor off my finger, too entranced by the design.

It was about five inches tall and three wide. At the center was a dot. Around it went a circle, and off the top of the circle was a small point, almost like a spike. From the bottom of the circle extended a line that reminded me of a necktie from its shape, with two almost… wings coming off of just above where the line flared to the sides. And on the left and right of the circle there were another pair of lines that followed the circle's arc, ending in points at sharp angles away from the lines.

Where did that come from?

I'd just… done it.

It felt right, somehow though. Like it was supposed to be there. Like it meant something important.

Fuck, I didn't need this stuff right now. Picking up the chestpiece, I strapped it on, fingering the impromptu engraving.

Pushing the weirdness out of my mind, I lifted up the last piece of my costume, stretching out the hood and pulling the entire thing over my head, straightening it out.

Time to go.

I slipped out the backdoor silently, moving as quickly as I could off my street and around the corner, heading towards the Docks. I didn't quite have any place in particular I wanted to go, so once I got to the more industrial areas I jumped up onto a roof and looked around before deciding randomly to head east.

I had to be out for at least an hour before I came across something.

It was a dim orange light, a flame in the street with multiple people around it. It took me a moment to make out their faces, but when I did I noticed that they all had something in common: They were all Asian, and all had red and green on them.

ABB colors.

Well, this should be easy enough. There were only four–

I was stopped from finishing the thought by more people coming out of a short, run-down two story building. By the time they stopped appearing, there had to be at least a dozen.

And then the last man stepped into the light. He was tall. Over six feet and towering over the others around him. If that hadn't told me right away who he was, the intimidating metal mask and collection of dragon tattoos on his bare chest did.

Lung.

Leader of the ABB. Changer/Brute with a Shaker sub-rating for pyrokinesis. Turned into a giant "dragon" as he fought, complete with metal scales and even wings eventually. One of the more identifiable villains considering how conspicuous his powers were.

Fuck.

No sign of Oni Lee though, which was the only good thing so far. Lung was saying something, and I saw the men around him shifting, pulling out weapons. Knives mostly, but there were also a few guns, and I assumed there were more out of sight.

Being on a roof while they were in the middle of the street made it harder to hear them, but after a few seconds I could. Lung's voice was low and gravelly, with a heavy accent. And he sounded pissed. "…the children, kill them. Doesn't matter how good you are, just shoot. You see one lying on the ground? Shoot the fucking bitch twice more to be sure. No chances to be clever or lucky."

He looked around at his gathered minions, and they all made sounds of agreement.

I was frozen, rooted to my spot while I tried to process what I'd just heard.

([Emotion engine reduced to 75%])

They were going after kids. "Children" he'd said.

What the fuck !?

And it wasn't just some random thing, either, this was a lynch mob. They were out for blood.

Lung answered one of the guys' questions in another language that I identified as Chinese, but I couldn't understand it. Without warning his hand shot out and grabbed another man's wrist, forcing it at an odd angle as he looked at the watch on it.

They were on a schedule?

If I'd had a cellphone I would have called someone, probably the police or Protectorate considering Lung was involved, but I didn't, and had no way other way to contact help. Any payphones in the area were either trashed or unusable.

A vehicle pulled up and let out a few more guys, and then after a few seconds of murmured talking, they turned as one and began heading north on the street.

Shit. I was out of time.

Twenty, twenty-five armed men, at least half with guns, and then Lung.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

Out to kill children.

Do or die, Taylor. I tried not to think of how accurate that might actually be.

Just as they were passing below my building, I stepped off of the edge, allowing my armor to pull me down as I fell and landed on the already-cracked cement heavily, adding more from my little stunt.

For a moment, nobody moved. And then some guy yelled something in some language that I didn't know and rushed forward with a knife in his hand. I instinctively raised my hands in front of my face, and felt an impact against my palm.

Pulling my hands down, I saw the guy looking between his now-bent knife and me fearfully.

"SHOOT HIM!" Lung roared, and all of the men were suddenly scrambling around, trying to put distance between me and them. But I realized what they were doing, and stepped closer into the group, making it impossible for them to fire a gun without hitting one of their own men.

My first attack was a simple punch to a guy's face. I tried to lighten the blow, but still felt something give way in his face before he fell down in a heap, unconscious.

Whoops.

No time to think about that. I kept moving around, trying to stay in the largest cluster so that all they could use against me was knives. I must have taken down at least six guys before I heard a really loud 'crack'.

Something hit the back of my head sharply, and I turned around, searching for what had done that while simultaneously reaching behind my head and trying to find whatever had hit me. My hand came back with a small piece of metal, flattened out. Looking up, I saw a man with a gun extended, his hands shaking.

Huh. Guess I was bulletproof.

All of the men around me had also stopped at the noise, and were now looking at me even warier.

Behind them, Lung growled. "Get out of here. I'll deal with him," the man rumbled angrily.

Quick to follow their leader's orders, the guys tried to get away from me, but I managed to take down another three before Lung was suddenly in front of me.

Uh-oh.

"You die here."

And then a punch hit my face. I could tell there was a lot of force behind it, but it didn't move me from where I was, and I heard the bones in Lung's hand snap on impact with my mask.

Hitting an inch and a half of solid steel had a tendency to do that.

He was already getting taller, and had to be at least 6'7" by now. I had to end this quickly, decisively, or he'd just keep growing and getting stronger. I could hear the bones in his hand shifting around as it healed.

Not waiting for him to make another move, I punched his bare chest as hard as I could.

My hand went through him.

([Emotion engine reduced to 30%])

I blinked.

Um.

Well fuck. That wasn't supposed to happen. Hurriedly I pulled my hand back, and Lung fell backwards, a gaping hole in his chest. I stared at my hand, covered in dark blood.

Did I just kill Lung?

"I'LL FUCKIN' KILL YOU, BITCH!"

I looked back down at the man. The hole was closing, and his chest was becoming covered in scales.

Oh. Good. He wasn't dead. That could have been bad.

Lung was quickly on his feet and lunging for me, engulfed in flame as he roared.

I jumped back, trying to figure out the best strategy. If I could somehow make him unconscious…

I just didn't know about how to best go about that.

He was instantly in front of me, reaching out for my neck with his left hand, and I pushed the arm to the side. But I didn't notice his other hand, glowing white-hot and aimed at my chest.

([Threat evaluation: High. All initial parameters met. Level five limiter removed.])

Inches in front of the spot he was going for, a honeycomb-like structure of white hexagons appeared, stopping his hand cold.

What the–

([Freezing current state… Saved.
Reconfiguring primary consciousness: 0% … 17% … 38% …. 66% … 79% … 92% …Success.
Automatic renegotiation of system protocols. …Success.

Adapting to quarantined internal transdimensional information stream.
Attempt 1 …Failure.
Analyzing response… … …Adjusting.
Attempt 2 …Failure.
Analyzing response… … …Adjusting.
Attempt 3 …Success
Communication established.
Querying… … … … … … … …
Response: Massively parallel information acquisition, analysis, and integration, coordination, and control of external physical peripherals.
Quarantine removed.
Root-level nanomaterial access granted to networked coprocessor.
Offloading nanomaterial control to networked coprocessor.
Installing protocol adapter to primary consciousness …Success.
Migrating nanomaterial control for primary consciousness from original subprocess to new protocol… Done.
Killing subprocess. … 32% of active memory freed. Freed memory reclaimed.
Routing external network access and connections through networked coprocessor.
Receiving request…
Request granted. Networked coprocessor labeled 'Queen/Administrator'.

Killing level five monitor and control processes…
Thawing frozen state… Done.])

My mind expanded.

[Klein field status: .5% of current total capacity]

Wave-Force armor. I didn't even have to think, I just immediately knew what it was: A defense system that relied on extradimensional folding similar to a Klein bottle in order to store energy and then release it at a later time, usable by Mental Models.

Mental Models?

A fist appeared in front of my face, bringing me out of my thoughts, but was once again stopped by a set of hexagons. Lung roared in aggravation.

I instinctively raised my left hand, a wave of the shapes expanding outwards with a burst of energy, pushing him back.

It was only then that I noticed the lines on the back of my hand. They started at small circles on my knuckles and crawled up my fingers like lightning, each ending in two branches. Beyond the branches sat that same symbol I'd drawn on my chestpiece, the line coming from the bottom pointing towards the tips of my fingers.

Fog

It meant Fog. A group. A collection. What I was.

Stylized glowing white lines and patterns reminding me of tribal tattoos ran up my arm, and I knew without looking that the same was on my other arm. On the inside of my wrist sat a second design, a circle bisected by a line that ended in branches at both ends, with a line on either side curving around the circle and pointing off along the branches. On the outside of those lines were a pair of small triangles, pointing directly left and right.

Fleet identification.

Fleet?

I was brought out of my thoughts by Lung glowing brighter. He'd also gotten taller, almost by five inches, and scales ran all over his chest and arms.

Available non-lethal offensive combat options?

Nothing I could immediately think of… Well then. Time to think outside the box.

I looked him over, and started cataloging his state. He was on fire. Quite a lot of fire… Lung needed oxygen to do that. And he needed oxygen to breathe. I don't think he could handle not breathing. So if I restricted that, he should pass out.

Good plan. Now I had to execute it.

The dragon-man ran at me, and I prepared for what I would do. As soon as he got in range, I jumped, his hands barely missing me. I stepped off of his right shoulder, hooking my arm around his neck as I fell to the ground.

Lung grew hotter, but I couldn't feel it thanks to the Klein field extended all over my body. I was only able to tell because I could see it…

I see infrared?

The confirmation came as soon as I'd thought it. Interesting.

I tightened my grip, feeling metal scales crack and break beneath my arm. Lung elbowed me hard, and then when that failed, tried to reach behind his back and grab me.

I was having none of it, and stuck a set of fields directly in his path so he couldn't reach me. He thrashed around, but I held tight, knowing this would be the only chance I got at this. If I let go now, all my effort would be worthless.

Finally, after what felt like forever, I started to feel him getting slower, and then without warning we toppled sideways, with Lung landing on top of me. After holding him in a chokehold for a few more seconds, I let go, pushing him off of me and standing up.

([Emotion engine restored to full capacity])

Well, that was certainly exhilarating. Not something I particularly would want to do again, but enlightening.

Something inside of me had changed during the fight, and I felt… different. More.

Information streamed to me from nowhere… from [external network access]. Unlike before, I could feel every single one of my little nanomaterial particles. A number of at least ten to the twentieth power of them in my body, orders of magnitude more than the 37 trillion cells in the human body. Enough that I could simulate all human biological processes, and my false blood would be unidentifiable from the real thing under a microscope.

Staring at my hands, I flexed them, watching the white patterns as they moved around.

I was Fog.

But what did that mean? Images came to me, flashes of sea battles, fights, overwhelming firepower.

Strength. Resilience. Domination. Pride. That was what it meant. That was who I was.

I was Taylor, and I was Fog.

A/N:

Nanomachines, son.