by Wyatt Kane
Enhancer 4
By Wyatt Kane
Copyright © 2018 Wyatt Kane, All Rights Reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Sign up here to be notified when the next Wyatt Kane novel comes out!
Also by Wyatt Kane
Enhancer 1, 2, 3 (ebooks)
Enhancer 1 and 2 (audiobooks)
Time Master
Contents
1: The Architect’s Return
2: Unfavorable Prognosis
3: Medical Nanites
4: A Chance to Help
5: Scene of Destruction
6: Searching the Ruins
7: Jason
8: Grief
9: Cryo Sleep
10: Frustrated Rage
11: A Concrete Target
12: Art Museum
13: Dead or Alive
14: Surrounded
15: Overreaction
16: Spit Bitch and Naps
17: Pleasant Dreams
18: A Chance at Redemption
19: Cyber Assimilation
20: Aftermath
21: Coming Clean
22: Toxicology Report
23: Heart to Heart
24: Unexpected Absence
25: Reload
26: Plague Alert
27: Bunnykin Victim
28: To Fight an Epidemic
29: Ty’s Apartment
30: Sarah’s Tale
31: Sarah’s Serum
32: An Apocalyptic Future
33: Upgrade
34: Enhanced
35: The Architect’s Brain
36: The Master’s Intention
37: A Call to Arms
38: Inevitability
Author’s Note
1: The Architect’s Return
Ty Wilcox stood in Dinah’s communication room with the deerkin at his side, surrounded by images of a dark and dingy alley.
His life had changed a lot in the past couple of weeks. Before, Ty had been one of life’s losers, working a dead-end job he despised with no girlfriend and little hope for the future.
Since then, with the help of a device he wore on his wrist, he’d become a true superhero, with all the strengths and capabilities the word implied. He’d fought villains and helped to rescue their innocent victims, and had also formed a loving relationship with three of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.
It had been a wild, crazy ride, and yet none of it prepared him for what was happening now.
The Architect, New Lincoln’s first superhero, had returned.
The secretive villain known as the Master had broadcast an image of the man, broken and unmoving in the alley. It had been a rude way to wake up, but Ty, Tempest, Dinah, and Lilith had all climbed out of bed and made their way to the communication room, and the deerkin had transferred the image to the main screen.
Using her skill to quickly sort through vast swaths of information, Dinah had located the alley in question. None of them could tell if the Architect still lived or not, but they wasted no time in getting to him. Dressed in nothing but a sheet and flimsy robe respectively, Lilith and Tempest stepped close to each other and teleported out of existence.
Yet even that wasn’t what concerned Ty and Dinah just then.
What concerned them was the device on Ty’s arm.
No longer did it simply enclose his wrist like an oversized watch. Instead, it looked as if Ty’s own flesh had started to devour its edges. It looked like his skin was growing around it, like a tree might grow around a fence post.
“Does it hurt?” Dinah asked, her eyes wide with curiosity and worry.
Ty shook his head. “No,” he said. He had a bit of a headache, but that didn’t seem to be directly related. “It feels fine.”
Yet, he shared Dinah’s worry. The sight was surreal and unsettling. It was like he’d walked into a Dali painting where, instead of a clock melting over a desk, the device was melting into Ty’s arm.
“Cyber Assimilation,” the deerkin murmured, reading the holographic display projected by Ty’s device. The moment he and Dinah had noticed what was happening, he’d brought up what he’d come to think of as his character sheet. Among other things, it displayed his skills.
“Level 1,” Dinah continued. “Ty, how come you have a new skill?”
It was a question Ty didn’t want to answer. Not then, not with Tempest and Lilith set to return with the Architect in tow. All he wanted was for whatever was happening to his arm to stop, so he could focus on more important things.
The Architect had been found, and that was all that mattered.
“Look,” Ty said. “It’s reversing. Going back to normal.”
He was right. As he and Dinah watched, Ty’s flesh seemed to draw back from the device, and in moments everything was back to the way it was, as if nothing peculiar had happened at all.
With a shake of his head, Ty gave the device one last look, then touched the button to dismiss the holographic screen. Now wasn’t the time to investigate further. Whatever this new skill was, it would keep.
“Come on,” Ty said decisively. “They won’t be long.”
No doubt Dinah had many questions she wanted to ask about Ty’s new skill. Information was her thing, after all. But she made no argument, and together, they hurried to the stairs.
They made it to the ground floor just as Lilith reappeared with a loud popping sound within the mansion’s main entranceway.
She wasn’t alone. Even though the defensive shield Ty had integrated into the mansion interfered with Lilith’s power, the demon woman had brought two others along with her.
Ty could clearly see the strain on Lilith’s face as she held Tempest tight, but it was the blonde superhero who drew his attention more.
She cradled the Architect in her arms as if the man was a child who weighed nothing at all.
“Is he alive?” Ty blurted as he and Dinah approached.
Given the distraught expression on the blonde woman’s face, Ty feared the worst. For so many years, the Architect, Tempest’s father, had been presumed dead. To learn he’d spent all that time in the grips of the Master was shocking to him. How Tempest could even function, Ty didn’t know.
And if the Architect was dead, if the Master had killed him in some callous act of cruelty, Ty didn’t know what the blonde woman might do. Tempest was a true superhero, durable, unstoppable, and powerful beyond words. How might she respond if the Master had killed her father? What shape would her grief or rage take?
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Fortunately, Ty didn’t have to find out. “He’s still breathing,” Tempest said.
“Let’s keep it that way,” Dinah said. “Take him to the med bay. Ty, go with her. Make sure the door is open.” Then the deerkin turned to Lilith. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Lilith nodded. “I’m okay,” the demon woman said. “I’ve just never tried to teleport two people at once before, and that shield didn’t make it easy. I’ll be fine.”
◆◆◆
Ty got his first real look at the Architect when Tempest lowered him gently onto the surgical table in the med bay. Gaunt and sallow, the man’s eyes were closed, his cheeks were sunken, and only a few wisps of hair remained, insufficient to cover his bulbous skull. Grand Moff Tarkin, but with heavier eyebrows.
He didn’t appear to have any
of the body modifications that characterized the people of New Lincoln. Just like his daughter, he didn’t even sport a tattoo.
The Architect was dressed in a filthy, basic shirt and trousers through which Ty could discern his lack of substance. He must have barely weighed anything at all, so fragile did he appear. But what worried Ty more than anything else was the unsightly, unhealed gash on the man’s head, through which Ty could see fragments of bone.
It was a terrible wound, the type of thing that might have been caused by a machete wielded in anger, and to Ty it was a wonder that the old man had survived.
Yet the wound was, from what Ty could see, partially healed. Parts of it were sealed over. But there were other parts that oozed yellow pus, and it exuded a sickly-sweet smell of decay. The odor was cloying and pronounced, and Ty didn’t want to think about what it could mean.
Tempest had been very gentle when she laid the old man on the table, but now her frustration came through. She glared around at the medical equipment lining the walls of the med bay.
“How does Dinah use all this stuff?” she muttered, her words a measure of her desperation more than anything else.
As Tempest spoke, the Architect moved his head a little, and opened and closed his mouth as if trying to speak. At the same time, one of his arms fluttered weakly. They weren’t the actions of a fully conscious and capable man, but the feeble motions of someone who was mostly unconscious.
Ty was relieved to see it. Despite Tempest’s earlier words, he hadn’t been completely convinced that the Architect still lived. Yet Tempest had a different reaction. The blonde superhero cursed under her breath and turned to the door.
“Dinah–!” she called, but the deerkin had already arrived with Lilith, who still looked unsteady on her feet.
Dinah glanced at the Architect on the surgical table and immediately took charge.
“Open his shirt,” she commanded as she glided past Ty to the storage containers at the back of the room. Tempest didn’t bother with the buttons, instead ripping the Architect’s shirt in a gesture of desperation, exposing the man’s fragile chest and clammy skin.
Dinah took a handful of adhesive sensors from the storage containers, as well as a set of leads, a bundle of wires that would have made an octopus proud. Without any wasted movement, the deerkin applied the adhesive sensors to various, precisely located spots on the Architect’s chest, as well as the inside elbow of each arm, and also his temples. She then hooked the leads into place and plugged it all in to a monitoring device.
It reminded Ty strongly of his recent experience at Clinic 104 at OmniTec Industries, except that when the Architect’s vitals began to display on the screen on the wall, they seemed uncertain. Ty’s heartbeat had been strong and regular, but the Architect’s was hesitant enough that it seemed it might stop at any moment. His respiration was so shallow that the monitoring device started beeping until Dinah shut the noise off, and while Ty didn’t understand all of the other lines that appeared on the screen, nothing about them suggested more than a tenuous grip on existence.
Yet it was enough to allow Tempest to breathe. She didn’t relax, not completely, but the lines on the screen proved that the Architect, her father, still lived, and suggested he might continue to do so at least for a while.
Dinah was far from done. “Gregory,” she said. “If you don’t mind?”
It was an ambiguous command, but it did the job. Gregory was the medical robot. A couple of days earlier, it had tended the injuries Ty had received at the hands of a steam-powered villain.
Ty unconsciously flexed his shoulder and leg. He’d received third degree burns through his shield, which the med bot had cleaned and disinfected in preparation for Dinah to bandage.
The dressing she’d used, Dura-Dermis, was a medical marvel, accelerating Ty’s healing so that the burns would have been mostly healed in a matter of days. But Ty had accelerated his healing even more through the use of nanites of his own design.
Not only had the nanites taken care of Ty’s burns, but they had helped to heal his various bruises and contusions as well.
Yet there were things they couldn’t help with. As Ty stood in the medical bay, he felt unaccountably tired. Sure, he and the girls had slept for only a few hours, but with the activity around the Architect, surely he should have been wide-awake.
In addition, he had a headache nestled uncomfortably behind his eyes. It wasn’t particularly severe, but he knew of its existence. Which was unusual, because he hadn’t woken with a headache since he’d put on his device.
“Ready,” the med bot declared, its metallic voice surprisingly deep and melodious.
“Full scan, if you don’t mind,” Dinah said. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
2: Unfavorable Prognosis
The med bot was a shiny, plastic-looking appliance that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a kitchen. Ty could easily imagine it as part of a blender, for example, or some sort of juice extracting machine.
It was connected to the surgical table via a retractable arm, and came complete with an array of surgical tools, including clamps, scalpels, and unnamable needle-like objects that it could extend or retract at will.
Ty knew from his own experience what those appendages could do, but had to repress a shudder as the bot positioned itself. To him, they were the stuff of nightmares.
“Scanning,” the med bot said. It then worked its way over the Architect’s still form, reaching out with its appendages as if to taste and prod.
Ty had been face down when the med bot had scanned him. So, while he hadn’t witnessed it in action, he had felt the featherlight touch of its equipment. He found the actual sight of the med bot doing its work both interesting and creepy, and had to repress a second shudder.
Part way through the scan, the Architect shifted and moaned. It was as if he was caught in an awful dream from which he couldn’t escape. At once, Tempest reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s all right,” she murmured, striving to comfort the old man despite his condition.
The med bot was efficient. In less than a minute, it had worked its way down to the Architect’s feet.
“Scan complete,” it said. “Summary diagnosis. Patient displays partially healed traumatic head injury combined with serious secondary infection. In addition, patient displays significant toxic pathology leading to impaired function of lungs, heart, kidneys, liver, pancreas, thyroid, brain. Patient displays symptoms associated with prolonged cryo device usage, including subcutaneous tissue damage throughout, worsening at the extremities. Patient displays severely compromised immune system. Blood toxicity consistent with degenerative toxin of unknown origin. A more detailed diagnosis is available at request.”
Ty couldn’t help but be astonished by the number and severity of the med bot’s pronouncements. Nor was he the only one. He watched as Tempest’s expression became one of alarm, and not even Lilith was immune. She didn’t know the Architect, and may not have even known who he was. But she was a good person at heart. She couldn’t help but empathize with the man on the surgical table.
Dinah’s expression had become grim. “Send the full diagnosis to me,” she said. “We don’t need to hear it now. Prognosis and treatment?”
“Full system support required,” the med bot pronounced. “Multiple organ transplants not recommended due to the presence of degenerative toxin. Recommend palliative care,” the med robot finished.
Barely had the words been spoken when Tempest reacted.
“No!” she said. Both of her fists were clenched, but she stood as still as a statue. Brittle, Ty thought, and her expression had become grim and afraid. “There has to be something we can do!”
Ty knew she was right.
“I have something,” he said quietly.
Tempest glanced at him with an expression of hope, but Dinah spoke first. “The Master was keeping him alive,” she said.
“Yes!” Tempest said, pouncing on
the thought. “A cryo chamber!”
Ty wasn’t sure a cryo chamber was a good answer. According to the med bot, extended use had already resulted in additional damage. And even if that wasn’t the case, surely it would only prolong the inevitable?
It didn’t exactly offer much hope of a normal life for the Architect.
Yet Ty didn’t say anything. Not to Tempest, not at that moment. He didn’t think she would appreciate his thoughts about it. Instead, he excused himself with a quiet, “I’ll be back,” then left the med bay.
The only thing on Ty’s mind when he reached the Architect’s workshop was the healing nanites. He didn’t expect them to be able cure all of the Architect’s ills, and had serious doubts they would be able to do anything about the ‘degenerative toxin’ the med bot had mentioned. But they would give the man a fighting chance.
Ty had designed the nanites to repair any and all physical damage. The wound in the Architect’s head certainly qualified, and Ty was reasonably sure the nanites would also repair any damage done to the man’s vital organs. Beyond that, only time would tell.
Yet, as he entered the workshop, Ty’s thoughts changed.
The workshop had quickly become his sanctuary. A place where he came to work miracles, or, sometimes, just to be by himself and think. In his mind, the workshop was the ultimate man-cave, and, by extension, his.
Not technically, of course. Ty had no claim on any part of the mansion. He hadn’t even known it existed more than a few weeks ago. But neither Tempest nor Dinah had any reason to use it, nor, as far as Ty knew, had Zach. The room had effectively been mothballed since the Architect had disappeared.
Much as the kitchen and communications rooms belonged to Dinah and the master bedroom was Tempest’s, the workshop had become Ty’s place. The clean, white lines and potential wrapped up within it were a reflection of Ty’s very soul.
Yet that wasn’t right either. If the workshop was a reflection of someone’s soul, then that someone was the Architect rather than Ty. He had built the place from the ground up. The glass display cabinets featured a history of the Architect’s prosthetic creations, and the ideas that filled the filing cabinet by the wall belonged to Tempest’s father.
