Clack, clack, clack.
Keyboard typing noises filled the room, the only light illuminating it was from the monitor against the wall. Images of happy, normal people flashed by in an instant, swiftly replaced by pictures of desolate wastelands and polluted waters. Words upon words upon words sped by, no single page lingering for longer than a few seconds.
All this information was reflected in the gas mask's eye, a heavy sigh breaking the monotony of keys being pressed.
"All this, and I'm no closer to an answer," said the man as he crossed his legs across his chair. slumping forward as he glared at the screen with one good eye. "Just a bunch of pictures of the aftermath. No solutions, nothing. Again."
He stood up, walking through the darkness, navigating it as easily as a raccoon as he opened a small fridge. A look of disgust crept on his obscured face: hardly a can of Dr. Pepper was in sight, lost in a sea of protein drinks and meal replacements. He reached for it and popped it open, moving his mask slightly upward as he drunk deeply of the elixir that sustained him for so long.
Before he could take a seat back at his computer, alarms blared, two monitors turning on to reveal camera footage. His eye widened a bit as the computer stated, "Intruder Alert," in a loud monotone. It was hard to believe, but as he watched several men bundled up from head to toe avoiding the many traps inherent in his little hideout, he knew this little gaggle of goons were serious. Or at least, they were competent enough that he didn't have to come up there and scrape their squashed remains off the floor from the pulverising machinery, or deal with the smell of burnt flesh permeating the air.
He did, however, have to deal with said goons busting open his door, the whole room illuminated by the factory's light and revealing the man's ominous looking form. Or a form that would look more ominous, if the man didn't look like a giant dork with Dr. Pepper for blood. And if he didn't just immediately hold up his hands at the sight of guns.
"Freeze!" one goon said, even though the man already complied and everything. "Good, someone with sense. Now, hand over the controls to the factory and get out of here-"
The man snorted. "You barge into my home and want to negotiate getting the keys? No thanks."
There was a click as he saw the safeties were disengaged, another goon snarling, "We have better reasons to use this place than a shitty squatter like you. Pack your things and get out, or die."
They weren't sure why he did this. It wasn't exactly a smart move in any regard. But all the man did was shrug and say, "Guess I'll die!"
The guns fired on him all at once, leaving bullet wounds where they hit. The fact that he was still standing afterwards with wounds slowly stitching themselves up made the goons hesitate as the man let out a laugh.
"Well, guess you guys are more bark than bite. Good thing, too: I'm a bit... out of practice."
He moved quickly, hands suddenly charged with lightning as he jabbed a goon in the throat. The goon collapsed, convulsing and gurgling nonsense as the other intruders converged on the masked man. He quickly drew a machete that burst with electric power as he channeled it into his weapon and stabbed another intruder in the gut, whirling around and slicing another one in their arm. They desperately tried to riddle him with more bullets, but going for headshots was useless, the bullets bouncing off his mask and their efforts rewarded with an electric knife in unpleasant places.
There was one left after the fighting, all his companions either dead or paralyzed at the hands of some dork in a gas mask and a sparking knife. He whimpered, falling to his knees, scrambling back towards the wall before the man dispelled the enchantment on his knife, put it away, and grabbed the man by the collar with relative ease.
"You want to live, don't you?" the masked man said in a harsh whisper. "You want to live and get away from this nightmarish hell of a planet, don't you? Then here's my ultimatum: grab your buddies, take them to whoever sent you here, and warn them that if they send another crew to try to take over this place, they'll have a worse fate than any of you.
Or you can die. But then more people would have to die because they didn't get a warning, and I'd have to clean the conveyor belts of all the idiots who traipse in here again. But that's up to you: do you want to be the messenger, or do you want to be the corpse?"
He didn't understand what gibberish came out of this goon's mouth, but he was nodding along, so the man released him, heading over to his computer and disabling the factory's functions for the time being. He watched the goon try to carry as many of his comrades as he could, running on pure adrenaline and leaving this god forsaken place alone.
Soon as he left, the man closed the door, heading over to his computer and quickly researching people who would have interest in a factory. Several people cropped up: Brad "Smithy" Dorson of Mechkai, of course, given his penchant of selling mass produced weapons to war-riddled planets. There was Queen Eliza, who believed that a strong country needed a strong military presence, but didn't have the means to mass produce weaponry, as they haven't the means to make factories and experience the age of an Industrial Revolution. (How the sources found that out and relayed it to the internet was beyond him.) And of course, there was the coalition of Santas, wishing to produce more presents for good boys and girls, though the man doubted they would send a bunch of goons to try to seize it forcefully.
That was all excluding interference from 'outside'. Heaven only knew how many Outsiders would want a factory, though how many would be so determined to get one in the middle of a winter hellscape was a different story.
Still, though, he wasn't going to just let anyone have it. Besides, it was a good defense system. Kept the idiots out and him in. Was a giant pain in the ass to get food delivered here normally, though. Sifting was the only way he was going to get bulk shipments of food and drink, and sometimes the sifting process made his pizza into an eldrich monster that made eating it more of an epic battle than it needed to be. The only way he was going to move out is if a better place presented itself to him, one that didn't have any fees attached aside from internet bills.
As he got back into his research, his Discord buzzed to life, blaring at him with a call from Outside. Quickly, he picked it up, putting on his headset as Aurelis's face popped up on screen.
"Idenfification, please," the masked man said. Aurelis was way ahead of him, holding up his Planeswarden Badge with a feathered hand. The man's eye widened as he quickly straightened up and asked, "What's the occasion? HQ usually doesn't ask much of anything from me, nevermind one from Outside."
"Many, many things," Aurelis replied as he tucks away his badge. "I've heard many things about you, and I wish to borrow your abilities, in light of recent events. Though, ultimately, I would have to consult the higher ups, no?"
The man shook his head. "There are no higher ups here. We're kind of a scattered band of dopes doing what we can... which, sadly enough, isn't much. So you're fine, just wondering what kind of events are happening on your end that needs me over there."
"Ladeca, for one."
The masked man flinched at the name. There have been rumors, so many rumors, about Ladeca. That some Planeswardens were manipulated and turned into Ba'als to wipe the remaining ones out. That others just joined her team when theirs was clearly losing. That those on the brink of despair joined her not out of fear, but out of a sick, twisted hope than she would make everything better. The more he heard, the more it made his stomach twist into knots.
"You had me at Ladeca," he says with glee, imagining how good it would feel to punch her in her stupid face. "If it means stopping her from manipulating my friends and coworkers, I'd love to help! Just make sure my new home's nice and cozy and I'm not in any immediate danger, and we're good~"
"If you mean 'staying near the local superheroes', then of course. Though you must be willing to put yourself in some danger: they tend to attract the sort of trouble you can't simply avoid all the time."
Aurelis witnessed him flinch as he grumbled, "Fiiiine, I'll live with it. I'd rather be not disturbed, buuut juuust for you guys, I'll do it."
"Excellent. We don't need your services as of quite yet, but when you are ready, here are the coordinates to one of our HQs. You will be aiding the Earth Sect, as they are in dire need of a hacker and researcher such as yourself.
Good luck, and I hope to see you soon, Phreak."
As the communications shut off and he got the coordinates in a separate DM that he hastily scribbled before the message deleted itself, Phreak stared at the monitors and groaned.
"Oh, I'm going to regret this codename by the end of this," he says as he makes a mental to-do list. Secure factory to make sure nobody can take control of it while he's gone, maybe ask someone else to watch over it, actually fix his sifter after procrastinating and dreading the feeling of VROPing places again, meet Outside Coworkers... and actually live a little. Maybe. If the air isn't literal poison over there. Hopefully.
This next year was going to be quuiiite interesting.
