Museum Core Chapter 110: Interlude American Midwest

The day now referred to as “the merge” had thrown a whole lot of things out of whack.

For Major General Alexander Fuller, that thing had been his retirement, but all things considered, he considered himself to have gotten off lightly. Especially compared to the people who’d been in the transformation zone at the time. It might have struck in one of the most sparsely populated areas of the country, but it had still caught up millions, of which only a bare handful had managed to get out.

Granted, some might still be in there, having gained powers and were presently in the process of leveling, like that crazy old coot with the shotgun and kinetic manipulation powers who showed up a couple of times a month for supplies, but that number couldn’t be very big. Certainly nowhere near the number of total missing individuals.

But it wasn’t his task to scour the zone for survivors.

No, he had the unenviable task of having to secure the entire area, both keeping in the monsters, and out seekers of fortune and madmen, and all the other lunatics who liked to go into the eternal blizzard that had sprung up in the heart of the US of A.

Of course, said area was larger than many individual states, doing so adequately would have taken the overwhelming majority of the land-based military forces of the United States … which he did not have access to.

And despite himself being in the Army, the majority of his enhanced forces were members of the USMC.

Not that he had anything against Marines. Yeah, there was some slight friction from the regular interservice rivalries, they tended to raise hell on liberty and could come up with astoundingly dumb ideas if they were allowed to get bored, but when shit hit the fan, they would be there, shoulder to shoulder with their brothers in arms, come hell or high water, and confront whatever horror crawled out of the transformation zone.

No, the issue stemmed from the fact that their system was wholly unsuitable to the problem at hand. It would equally boost them in all aspects as they grew in strength, yes, but they needed to get seriously strong before they reached the point of being more useful than modern armament.

And their powers, well, those were sadly mostly useless. Being able to breathe underwater, swim like a fish and ignore the water pressure in any depths they were realistically likely to find themselves at was useful, yes, but not in the middle of the fucking country.

The second power, sound magic, could also not do too much against the elementals of this transformation zone, even the ones with a fully solid form were hard to hurt unless one managed to shake them apart by hitting their resonant frequency.

And the third, which the system had apparently titled hydrokinetic cloak, let them control water at point-blank range, moving themselves around underwater at ridiculous speeds, and was said to translate to eventually being able to fly,  but no one had reached that point just yet. And they could protect themselves with water as well.

But the problem was that the power in question did not produce water; it only controlled it, and with how cold it was here, liquid water was hard to find.

Which meant that in most cases, the majority of his enhanced forces were limited to an enhanced physique that was nevertheless not empowered to the point of being able to fight an elemental that could badly hurt you on contact, leaving the optimal way to use the Marines being having them use weapons that weren’t ordinarily man-portable.

Yet none of that was the issue causing him the most frustration. No, that honor went to the fact that all the Marines detailed to him were having one hell of a time leveling.

The System of the Maritime Survivor was built around growing via exploring the oceans, and guess what was hard to do in a landlocked state?

So yes, he’d lost his best elementalists, who’d obtained their abilities before the local system had corrected for humanity’s technology, drafted for other details, but they’d been replaced by a whole lot of people who could barely use their powers in the current situation, and who would be stuck at their current power level for the duration of their deployment.

When it came down to brass tacks, it wasn’t as though he couldn’t see the logic behind the choice, once acquired, the elementalist system was far more flexible and varied, and people who’d achieved “permission” to use it were needed in more places than just here … but that did not change the fact that the folks up in Washington were expecting him to contain a monster of unknown form or power while endlessly cutting his legs out from under him.

He …

Right in that instance, just about every alarm and alert he’d set up went off as one, and his radio let out a squeal so loud that he half-expected it to have deafened him while his phone was simultaneously ringing with an incoming call and buzzing with endless “you are also being called by other people, do you want to pick up this call instead” alerts.

Fuller didn’t even have to listen to a single one; the information displayed on the wall screen of his office made it abundantly clear just what was going on.

The endless blizzard was moving, in fact, it was heading barely past where he was, at the center of the largest of all the camps meant to look over the transformation zone. Based on that, its center would pass within a few kilometers of the base.

Fuller took a couple more seconds to stare at the screen, almost unconsciously reaching over to grab his computer’s mouse and select the feed from the nearest CCTV camera.

The monster approaching was exactly how the anchor beast had always been described.

A figure of frost, impossibly slender, vaguely feminine, easily ten meters tall, and surrounded by swirling eddies of snow far denser than the actual blizzard that was beginning to form.

The monster that had been nicknamed “The Winter Queen,” a name that felt appropriate now that he was seeing it through a video feed, rather than a blurry photogrpah taken with a shitty outdated camera.

And then the feed cut off, with seemingly no clear reason, save perhaps the cold.

Damnit.

Fuller began to bark orders at this point, redirecting forces to plant themselves in the way of the monster while also having clear escape routes. others were to retrieve weapons too scarce to hand out freely but had been given to him precisely for situations like this.

And, of course, he also sent a request straight to Washington. After all, despite several nuclear warheads having been placed in a position where they could be used against monsters that may come out of the transformation zone, he still couldn’t use them on his own authority alone.

But even as he worked, outposts began to go silent. Some of that would hopefully turn out to have been caused by radio interference from the onrushing snowstorm, others had maybe lost their radios outright … but many of those likely indicated deaths.

And he was forced to continuously march back which cameras he was looking out through, as they continued to fail, destroyed by either the cold or the endless parade of smaller ice monsters that accompanied the Winter Queen.

What he did see, however, was horrifying.

Bullets pinged off the monster’s hide like hail, missiles guttered and died as they closed in with the beast, as the cold, somehow, destroyed them. The temperature had to be closer to absolute zero than freezing, in all likelihood.

In addition, there was little chance of him being able to retreat and remain abreast of the situation and do a better job than someone who was situated far enough back to be able to stay in one place the entire time.

So he began to rapidly hand out assignments and coordinate the handoff.

“Everyone, go to the evac point,” he finally ordered, addressing his various aides and the guards of the HQ.

“Sir …”

Fuller cut the man off before he could say whatever he was going to say. “You have your orders, I expect you to obey them. Evacuate.”

With that, he spun on his heels, heading towards where the monster was coming from.

Without even turning around, he said, “Is following me into this insanity really the thing you want to disobey orders over?”

The shuffle of boots on linoleum told him he’d correctly assumed they were still trying to “help” him.

“This isn’t something anyone can help me with, and unless you’re willing to hogtie me to stop me, I’m going.”

He could hear footsteps retreating into the distance behind him.

And now that everyone else was gone, now that command had been handed off to someone less likely to have their comms scrambled by the blizzard … he had just one thing left to do.

March into the lab set up on the very fringes of the transformation zone, and attempt to claim the most dangerous of all conceivable elements, the one no one else had managed to gain access to.

They’d walked every conceivable path of doing this safely. None had worked, all had failed, leaving them with but a single option. The suicidal one. The one that, if it didn’t work, would sentence the one who did it to one of the most painful deaths imaginable.

He couldn’t ask that of anyone, regardless of the potential for impossible rewards … no one save himself. And even that was only “okay” in the case of utter disaster. Like what was happening now.

It was at this point that he reached the room holding the items in question, and immediately proceeded to open the first case, holding two hollow half-spheres made from tungsten carbide.

This was all insane. The person in charge should remain in charge and coordinate, randomly “vanishing,” even if it was for “heroic” purposes, would generally be considered grounds for a court-martial. The entire bridge crew of the Starship Enterprise would have earned themselves a dishonorable discharge on a per-episode basis in the real world …

He was stalling, he realized. But he also really did not want to go through with this. Hell, part of him was praying that the communications network would break down, that Washington would lose contact and that he’d have to back out … Fuller cursed himself for hesitating as he reached towards a pair of gloves needed to make retrieving the final piece slightly safer … it no longer mattered, not one bit. He left them there.

Instead, he opened the second briefcase with his bare hands, the lead-lined top half shockingly heavy, and stared down at the large grey sphere that lay there. So small. So innocent. So normal.

That was how weapons-grade plutonium looked in the real world, beyond special effects and a screenwriter’s imagination.

Just being in the room with it was likely costing him days of his life with every passing second, but he was about to make this oh so much worse.

He reached out, picked it up, and dropped it off again mere seconds later, placing it in one of the half-spheres from the second briefcase. Last chance to back out … he wouldn’t take it.

Alexander Fuller picked up the filled half sphere with his left, the empty one with his right hand, and with a final deep breath, slammed them together. Slammed the demon core shut. And his hands began to burn as the device began to spew radiation.

He stared down at it for a couple of seconds, wishing, praying, for a system window to appear and announce that he’d proven his mastery of radiation, that manually doing this would count … he was dead. He’d been dead since about two seconds after he’d closed it. So he dropped it, taking a couple of stumbling steps towards the switches on the nearby wall.

Was that already brain damage from the radiation damage, or was he just imagining it?

Fuller’s hand slammed into the light switch, activating both the UV lamps in the ceiling and the deliberately unshielded X-ray machine in the corner.

His eyes almost immediately began to itch as the lamps began to burn them, the tingling of his skin only maybe being in his head … everywhere save his hands. There, the skin was already peeling.

“Do you see this, System?” he yelled at the ceiling, arms spread wide. “This is my mastery of radiation! Either tell me I passed, or tell me to fuck off, just stop the fucking silent treatment!”

He remained in that pose for God only knew how long, skin prickling, vision growing steadily worse, hands beginning to bleed. And he just knew that if he ran a hand across his scalp, it’d most likely come away covered in hair.

And then, finally, a status window appeared in his field of view.

Name: Alexander Fuller

Race: Rank 1 Human (Path of the Elements; Master of Lethal Radiation)

Enhancement Distribution (Mind/Body/Magic)

33-33-34

Physical Status: Lethal Radiation Poisoning -> Damage from Lethal Radiation Poisoning

Progress to next Rank: 0%

Abilities

Radiation Creation

That physical status … the radiation wasn’t hurting him anymore, but the damage was done. There were ways he might be able to recover, but deep down, he realized there was little chance of that happening. He would not become a supersoldier. But he had gained the power needed to make a difference. Or so he hoped.

He glanced over at the enhancement distribution, which users of this system could relatively freely shift around as long as they did not do it too often, and maintained a bare minimum of power in each of the aspects, or else suffer the consequences.

After thinking about it for a second, he pulled as much power as he felt comfortable with out of the “Mind” section and split that equally between Body and Magic.

In an instant, the furious cries of his abused body died down to a dull roar, muted and faded into the background. But it was still there, still burning, an endless reminder of the fact that he was on death’s door, magical enhancements or not.

And his magic, well, it had to have surged upwards as well, but he could only tell that had happened from the number on his status screen going up.

Fuller forced himself into standing up straight, despite his body crying out in protest, and began to march towards the exit. He just prayed he’d figure out how to use the magic he’d effectively killed himself to acquire.

It boiled beneath his skin, practically begging to be let out, yet at the very same time, that magic was draining something he hadn’t even known was there, or perhaps hadn’t had prior to obtaining this energy, his innate mana pool beginning to convert into, as his status screen claimed, lethal radiation.

The moment he stepped outside the room, Fuller was assaulted by a barrage of clicks so rapid that they joined together into a continuous tone that he only belatedly realized was created by the various Geiger Counters scattered about the room, all of which he’d set off with his mere presence. Or perhaps he was unleashing the radiation he was generating without realizing. That … that would be worse.

He stumbled over to where he’d set his radio down on the table.

“This is Fuller. I just acquired radiation control powers, and am presently highly radioactive. Keep your distance. I’m heading to the warzone.”

And with that, he hurried over to the Humvee that sat abandoned outside the lab and began to drive deeper towards the source of the storm. It was already snowing heavily here, to the point where, at any time, in any other location, the severe weather warning would have been given yesterday.

But after barely sixty seconds, he was forced to abandon the car as he spotted the first of what was likely many monsters to come.

It was a small goblin-looking thing that appeared to be made entirely of glass, though it was near-guaranteed to be an ice creature instead, as Fuller recognized it as one of the Winter Queen’s minions.

He raised his right hand, palm facing out, and tried to use his powers for the first time … and promptly keeled over, planting face-first into the swiftly growing layer of snow before him.

Fuller struggled to push himself back up onto his feet, only to suddenly feel power surge back into his physical self, in a steady stream that he cut off as he realized what was happening.

He was accidentally pushing around the sliders of the enhancement distribution to boost whatever he was doing at right that moment. Just getting back onto his feet had seen him hold more physical strength than he’d ever had, not even when he’d been in the best shape of his life, and when he’d attacked the monster, well, all his physical and mental enhancement had fled him to empower the blast he’d unleashed to the point where the monster was just plain gone, along with a steaming cone of ground devoid of snow large enough to park a car in.

It was just that doing so had cost him the strength needed to keep his irradiated body on his feet.

A thought pushed the enhancement back into a more suitable distribution, with enough power put towards his physiology to keep standing and stave off the consequences of radiation poisoning, and every spare iota of power put towards his magic.

This time, the transfer was noticeably slower. He’d already been using the sliding stats far too much.

“System, keep it there unless an emergency occurs,” Fuller said. “I ...”

He broke off with a cough and bent over double, seeing the snow below acquire a spattering of red.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “System, if I wind up incapacitated, keep magic and mind at minimum necessary levels, and put the rest into reinforcing my body.”

That was the second big advantage of the System of the Elements. You could alter your “stat distribution,” even though it wasn’t called that, at the drop of a hat, and you could actually talk to the System. And it could even be helpful for automating things that fell under its purview. Such as the enhancements, it was pouring through his body.

He glanced at this status sheet. Seventy-five percent enhancement to his magic, twelve-point-five in both body and mind, and he’d somehow gone twenty-five percent of the way towards E-Rank. It was a well-known fact that you could quickly ascend through F-Rank, but to go this far from one kill … how powerful had that monster been?

Fuller coughed again, more red drops spattering onto the ground, stark against the white snow.

Choosing to acquire this power … in hindsight, that had not been his finest idea. But he had it, and until the damage he’d done to himself killed him, he’d do everything in his power to beat back the attack.

And deep within himself, he could feel his mana returning, growing a charge that would eventually be able to vaporize a tank in a single shot. Hopefully.

Hauling himself back behind the wheel, he drove onwards, right at the problem. Until a loud thump rang out from the roof, and suddenly, the window beside him shattered and an arm made from glass-like ice reached in, scrabbling at his shoulder, razor-sharp claws ripping through his BDUs and flesh alike.

Fuller lashed out with his left hand and felt it briefly connect before a gout of steam obscured his vision as the limb was vaporized. He immediately stomped on the brakes and with a couple of loud crashes, one metallic, one muted, the monster flew off the roof and into the snow.

After briefly considering it, he awkwardly opened the door with his right arm and stepped out to get a better bead at the monster rising from the ground in front of the car. Inadvertently glancing down, he saw his left hand looking red like a cooked lobster and winced. He may have been immune to radiation now, but apparently, if he used it to heat something, that thing could still easily burn him.

… one more injury for the pile, he supposed.

He raised his right hand and unleashed another blast of energy, entirely consciously this time. It might have been invisible, but its effects were undeniable.

Snow melted as though he’d turned on the space heater, and half the monster vanished, but it was still able to start to rise.

One more blast later, and that was the end of it, the death of the elemental, accompanied by a surge in strength, weak but more than noticeable.

Fuller sighed.

He could see how one could get addicted to that, why there were those who began to take ludicrous risks just for the chance to grow further. But for him, this was not about power or long-term growth. No, it was about how every kill increased the amount of hurt he could dish out, and every scrap of power he further added to his body would allow him to live that much longer, to do that much more good before he finally bought the farm.

Another bloody cough wracked him.

Keep going, keep fighting, keep growing ... until he could kill that thing.

Hit E-Rank and be able to control “ambient” radiation, which would be abundant once Washington started lobbing nukes.

Hit D-Rank and be able to charge himself with that very same energy, perhaps even heal the damage he’d done to his body … if he lived long enough to reach it.

Fuller’s radio chirped to life, relaying a string of coordinates and pronouncing a dire warning: nuclear strike incoming.

Off the top of his head … yes, he was clear of the blast zone. He’d remain at this distance, but see if he could come across even more monsters.

Three more showed their ugly faces. Three more died.

Fuller could feel his body burn with an ever-growing pyre of radioactive fire, his body feeling stronger than it had ever been despite the hollowness carved out by radiation damage … that was when the motor of the Humvee made a clunking sound and died.

Perfect. Just perfect.

He yanked the door open and marched out, allowing some radiation to stream out to melt the snow around him, at enough of a distance that the steam didn’t do further damage.

Was this how things were going to end? Keel over while trodding through the snow, killed not by an enemy but by the walk to the enemy?

Yet what else could he do? Asking for a lift would see whoever came to pick him up irradiated and wind up in the same boat as him.

It was at right this moment that the monster leaped at him, but this time, he noticed it at just the right time, bringing both hands up and sending a flood of radiation towards it … but it wouldn’t be enough. A mere thought was enough to start diverting energy into his physical reinforcement, even as he channeled the energy not at the monster, but into the air right between them.

The pocket of atmosphere erupted in a surprisingly cool blast, hot but not scorching, barely slowing the monster but managing to launch Fuller away, lifting him clear of the icy claws of the now man-sized beast that glared at him, half-melted and furious.

“Fuck you,” he muttered as he raised his hand and emptied the proverbial clip at the monster, every scrap of energy that had since regenerated poured into a single blast with a dull whump.

This time, there was a visible effect, a distortion in the air between them, existing for barely a second … which was still longer than the monster’s remaining lifespan.

It erupted into a strange combination of ice shards and steam, while the area behind it was scoured of snow as the previously covered grass withered and died in an instant.

You have reached the 2nd Rank and acquired the ability to control your element, both that which you have created yourself and find around you, at the cost of mana.

In addition, you gain an innate ability to sense your element, as well as perceive it if that was not previously possible.

And just in that moment, distant but still within his field of view, a mushroom cloud bloomed, a bonfire in more ways than one, sending ordinarily invisible radiation washing out like a burst water balloon sprayed liquid.

More munitions for his fight. Fuller drew what surrounded him into a sphere that hovered above his hand, then flicked his wrist and hurled it into a monster that was approaching from a distance in a beam.

“It’s still alive!”

No radio etiquette, no proper composure, no reason to believe he’d have done any better, had he been in that soldier’s position.

Fuller swore internally and wiped at his mouth, seeing his hand come away red.

Fuck.

If nukes alone weren’t going to fix this, then they’d better pray they got reinforcements. The radiation poisoning would let him live long enough to hold it off for a while, wouldn’t it?