Mayday Playdate [INV]

And you're certain? 100%, absolutely, no-Reathin-it's-not-a-birthday-prank, definitely certain? It was an interesting experience, talking into a cellphone while flash stepping. You had to be careful, lest your words literally end up hundreds of meters away from where you spoke them, rather than into the standard-issue shinigami cell phone. Fortunately, Reathin was good at multi-tasking and timing. Better than single tasking, actually. The voice on the other end responded with some degree of exasperation, which he had fairly earned. Most people did, speaking with Reathin for prolonged periods.

For the fourth and what had better be last time, yes, you heard me correctly.

Humongous, crashing down clockwork blimp? With a giant laser?

Five times, now. And yeah, the laser was what tipped us off. Normally, the sky isn't exactly a scanning priority, but it's hard not to look up when someone or something calls down that much firepower. Also, it's more of a rigid-air-ship than a blimp.

Haruna, I could kiss you. Any new intel since it's grand introduction?

Yeah, not gonna happen on the former. And you're the one who's supposed to be getting us that intel, since you're patrol is pretty close. Given its inorganic nature, we're pretty sure it's not hollows, but that still leaves lots of other possibilities. Current projections suggest...

Aliens! Giant lasers from the sky, what else could it be? Reathin's interruption was itself interrupted, albeit mostly in his head, as his avatar sent a rush of images of what it thought it could be. Sanze's visions of possible universes didn't give the slightest regard to what most people would call probability, but Reathin had learned not to discard things so easily. Besides, it really would be interesting if this was himself from the future.

Hanging up despite protests on the other end, Reathin was delighted when the vessel came into view. That...was quite something. Definitely falling, but not fast enough that it couldn't stop. Given the sheer number of visible weapons (and, again, the doomsday beam it was apparently capable of firing), Reathin paused for a moment. He could observe from a distance. This much range was...probably safe? Ish? He could keep an eye on it, make some notes, report back and make sure he had some backup in case it turned into a giant robot or something.

Or.

Getting intel was the point. More intel was better than less intel. This happily coincided with a sudden, very strong urge to get closer, inside, see what made it (literally, given its design) tick. Plus, how often did you get a chance to even see a magical flying machine? Outside 12th division's semi-annual drone races, anyway. With more focus on potential gain than potential loss, what with his sense of self-preservation having mostly given up on him by this stage, Reathin grinned and leaped onto a hastily formed air platform before he began his ascent to the meet the vessel. Getting in...something like that almost certainly had access hatches, but if it was a high-flier, odds were good those were sealed pretty tightly. Air pressure being an issue. Attacking them and getting inside might work, but it would definitely attract attention just as fast. Taking notes was hard when people were trying to kill you. Going through the gas vessel? No, clearly armored and also it would definitely crash and burn.

The correct answer was obvious, after half a moment's thought. That "metric-ton of style" weapon mounted on it was a literal tunnel into the vessel. Whether or not it had an access point leading into the innards of the ship was something that needed to be determined in person. And so, Reathin made his way into the second largest gun he'd ever seen.

The ship was shifting, alongside a great deal of noise that either meant something very good or something very bad. The exact tones were a bit different, given the oddly dated tech, but after things started getting a touch more stable, then a lot more stable, Reathin began to think that, just maybe, he wasn't going to have to jump out of this place followed closely by an explosion or six. Then again, the day was young.

That concern put to bed for the time being, he kept heading his way down the barrel of the weapon until he found himself at the end. Clockwork components, some understandable, some merely fun to look at, stared back at him. Part of the emitter, he guessed. Maybe not even the whole of it, actually. Some of those plates looked, in the dim light, to be shift-able. While that would be interesting to watch, becoming part of the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't high on Reathin's priority list. With that in mind, he looked around. On the floor, fairly easily to identify, was a hatch. Made sense; trying to walk down this thing to fix a problem would be frustrating in the extreme. Trying his hand at the entrance, he found it possible to press it open by the right combination of pressing on the lock's semi-exposed gearwork. It wasn't clear if that was just not particularly secured because who would be nuts enough to try, or simply that it had been made loose by the damage of the sudden descent. Either way, the intruder was able to get into the area beyond the firing mechanism.

The rest of this place was like a paradise to Reathin. He half expected his zanpactou's avatar to be hanging around from the ceiling, there was that much clockwork around. Not pure winding though, on closer examination. Those pipes were hot and that meant this place was, at least in part, steam powered. That sort of technology shouldn't have even existed on this scale, which made it fascinating. Breaking in here for the view of the forward battery alone was already worth it. But no doubt there was more to see. But first, a precaution. Sending a mental signal to his SPECTRE array, he bent the light around him and activated the reiatsu "heat sinks", vanishing from sight and senses. This wouldn't last forever, but would make examining the vessel considerably easier if he didn't run into any of the crew. Assuming this place had one. All this mechanization might very well operate independently, or with some sort of AI control. Who knew? Hopefully, Reathin in a few hours.

Nobody really respected steam, as a rule. You think, "oh, hot water, feels a bit warm if you pass your hand through". Except people near bursting steam pipes. Dealing with jets of high pressure, high temperature anything wasn't really something the human body was designed to cheerfully deal with. It was less 'oh, my tea's ready' and more 'aaahgghaghaghahaghgh'. Reathin had dealt with substances that could melt flesh from bone often enough that his burn/scald card had a "take ten hits, get one free" marker, and wouldn't you know it, here was number ten. Presumably unhappy with rapidly changing conditions, one of the system's pipes decided the easiest possible manner of expressing its concerns was through screaming. It's own, and Reathin's. Granted, it was a short scream, given his reflexes and aura, but it still HURT, and his cloak didn't deal with sound so much. Plus, he felt his capacitors short for a half second. This was partially a good thing, as the expelled reiatsu helped keep the damage to first degree burns, rather than "looks like I'm going to need to build myself a new arm". But, feeling about for a moment, there was another signature on board. Moving. So, this place was crewed. Neat. And problematic. Letting his cloak properly re-establish itself, Reathin attempted to move from his original position, lest he be given completely way. No need to be found exactly where he was revealed.

The trick was the wound. The pain was still very much there, and his steps were faulty for it. Stepping in tight corridors was...unwise. He couldn't patch himself up without releasing the stealth drive...So, perhaps a med bay? If nothing else, perhaps he could fortify there. Moving on while trying to get keep quiet, Reathin began looking for either a spot to heal up, or somewhere he could fortify. The layout was new, so that might take a bit. Finding himself at a crossroads, he tried to make an educated guess on where his destination might be. Closer to the weapons? Or closer to center. Center was easier to get to in an emergency...so right it was, deeper into the dark confines of the ship.

Tight corridors and annoying wounds made Reathin less of a happy camper than he would normally be in this situation. Honestly, it was mostly the latter; claustrophobia was not on his fairly sizable list of personal issues. But much like being in a candy store but unable to buy anything because an 8-foot tall man composed of solid blue flame keeps trying to decapitate you, the 12th member wasn't in much of a state to properly take in the wonder that was this vessel. Seriously, you didn't find craftsmanship like this these days. Primarily because the old days didn't have it either.

Still, he couldn't help but try and get a better look around. Partially to appreciate the style, partially for clues as to where the bloody med-bay was. He grit his teeth through the spike of pain, doing his damnedest to focus on the area, not himself. Which was why he turned to see Mechan coming down the corridor with just enough time for the light to hit his eyes, make it way through his nerves, enter his brain, bypass a song he'd had stuck in his head all day, and bloom into the emerging awareness that began with "oh shi...".

The collision was less painful than the steam, thankfully, but his reaction didn't really have time to consult with his brain on what to do, particularly since his cloak was dropped by the hit. Raising his hands, he more or less instinctively activated his Gale Repulsion Implant. Given his wound and being startled, it went off...poorly. The mechanical devices built into his arms misfired. Instead of sending Mechan flying down the corridor (or at least...staggered a bit?), the energy detonated such that it flung Reathin himself in the opposite direction, sailing through the air with the grace of a swan...piloting a crop duster. The secondary impact down the hall, now a good thirty feet from Mechan, was enough to jar him to...something akin to awareness. Shock did that sometimes, before the sensations kicked in and started screaming to him that he was damaged. In that five second window, a fair amount of discussion went through his mind.

Okay, there's a crew. With reiatsu. Reiatsu that's not very familiar. Not hollow, not arrancar, not shinigami, not quincy, not bount since I can feel it... As a member of 12th division, Reathin knew as much about mod souls as anyone not literally part of Project Spearhead, he'd never directly encountered one to compare the feel of the power. The ambiguity of the situation was problematic, but at the very least there was a chance that they wouldn't be unable to avoid a fight, unlike the average hollow, quincy etc. At least, that would have been true if they'd met without the whole "breaking into your airship" thing. Bit of a bad first impression, that. Still, he didn't have too many options. He could try and release shikai here. Quarters like this would work just fine for Sanze. Trying bankai was suicidal though, given the dimensional differences. Plus, there hadn't been enough dramatic buildup. You didn't just come out swinging with your best tricks, it was in bad taste. And if there was one kind of sense Reathin actually had in abundance, it was a sense of drama. Maybe later they could have a nice apocalyptic showdown on the top of the vessel's roof (preferablly below the cloud line, for thunderstorm effects), mechanical man and his awesome airship vs. somewhat less mechanical man and his enormous clockwork alternate-universe-bending spider tank/temple. That might be nice. First things first though: alternative strategies. Reathin lifted his head while he could still do so relatively freely, and began what was his first encounter with a "new" species with the greatest degree of professionalism he could muster.

Hi.

Gattling guns to the face. That was not something Reathin was in the mood to try out. He very nearly reached for his sword, but halted himself for two reasons. First, it hurt like all get out. Second, the mechanical man was talking, not shooting. Even if he managed to draw in his current state (very possible, but not QUICKLY), Reathin wasn't going to be dodging any bullets in his current state, at least without doing even more damage to himself. As it stood, he could...probably get out, if push came to shove-you-over-the-side, but it would cost him. And if he was unlucky, a shot to the right place could actually cripple him. On a airship he couldn't escape, next to an opponent with gatling gun arms. Which, as deaths went, was fairly hardcore, but having died once already in his memory, Reathin wasn't in any hurry to do it again. The continuation of the dialogue was enough to completely derail his self-preservation problem. Realization slammed neatly into place in his normally disorganized mind, along with several of the implications.

You're a mod soul? Huh. That explains a few things. To begin with, no, I'm not after your pill. I can think of any number of better uses for my time than to help Central 46 try for a new genocidal high score, especially in the name of "ethics." If irony had any physical weight, they'd have imploded by now. More's the pity. More than a little genuine distaste crept into Reathin's voice. While not opposed to a civilian leadership core aiming the Gotei 13, he constantly marveled at C46's ability to make the WORST possible decision, every single time something important came up. Yes, many better uses for my time. Counting sand on the beach, perhaps, or maybe solving the Towers of Hanoi until the end of days. Keeping his hands visible and away from his weapon, Reathin slowly eased his torso into a more comfortable sitting position, very deliberately showing no active aggression. And if you MUST kill me, I'll thank you to avoid obliterating a masterpiece of engineering in the process. This vessel was unique enough that, when it came onto our detection, I was re-assigned to see what on earth it was. What OVER the earth, I should say. Now, assuming this was the person at least partially responsible for the vessel, Reathin was willing to bet he had a brain worth writing home about. The implication should be obvious: if someone was sent, they would expect a report. They didn't get one, someone ELSE would be sent. One without a specific annoyance at stupid, kill-em-all orders, in all likelihood.

Reathin seriously doubted that his interrogator would believe him if he outright offered to help, but a combination of distaste for some of his stupider orders and an appreciation for strange machines made him sympathetic. And his own personal talents might help too, if the situation called for some sort of fakeout.

Slightly surprised and significantly less slightly relieved that the mod soul had chosen the sensible, violence-lite option here, he was nonetheless further surprised when his would be captor just kinda...dropped. For a good ten seconds, there was nothing but silence, save for the general noise of the ship around them. If this was a trap, it was probably the strangest one he'd encountered in person (which, given his history, was saying something). Mechan's signature was faded but seemingly stable, so odds were he wasn't suddenly dying (what did mod souls die of, anyway?). Good, spared him having to cobble together some makeshift body. Entertaining as it would be to find out if mod souls could animate junk golems. Or...airships? With what sort of interface?

No no, we don't have time for something a tenth that incredible. Probably. Haruna's patient, but not that patient. Pesky things like practicality one again getting him down, Reathin concluded that, yes, this was not a trap, and it was time for a trust exercise. That was a lot easier when the mod soul had put the guns away before falling down. Reathin had exactly one trick up his sleeve to deal with damage like this, but fortunately it would likely work on the pair of them. Slowly, gently, he got to his feat and drew his zanpactou. He went so far as to point it at the floor, in the event that his gracious host woke up.

Transcend, Sazne. One flash of blue-green light later, his hands were full of hands that, to casual observer, had clearly been stolen from Big Ben or something. Casually lifting the larger of the two at Mechan (still far enough away to be...less threatening?) he let his energy flow through the weapon. Quantum Immortality wasn't going to win any awards for greatest healing technique in Soul Society, but it would do the job well and was less biological and more "I reject your reality and substitute my own". Handy, for someone who didn't really HAVE any biology. Reathin aimed the effect at himself as well, feeling the scalds rapidly fading away without a scar. That...felt much better. Mechan's own fatigue-equivalent was also coming along nicely. Probably. Having never seen anyone like this before, he was mostly guessing by the general steam noises building up again. As that started to take on a life of its own, Reathin decided to let his shikai revert and be re-sheathed. Maybe later they'd have time for a tragic misunderstanding born of not asking logical questions and jumping to conclusion when misinterpretation events occurred. Like a guy with a sword pointed at you. That bud properly nipped, Reathin kept a respectful distance and played the waiting game. Maybe he'd beat his previous high score and make it to 17 seconds this time.

He moved, he walked, he talked, he...might be able to make Julienne Fries? Up and active, Mechan offering a handshake, along with a tone and dialogue that sounded almost like...

We didn't...reformat him, did we? Reset to factory settings? Advanced and self-aware as they were, mod souls still had some degree of programing. Was that a thing that happened if damaged? Or was the reversion a bit more thorough than he'd meant to?

One man's rebirth is another's death, and every choice slays all that might have come after.

As if something no longer existing ever stopped anything on the grand scale, right?

There is truth in that. There are infinite truths, in harmony and in contradiction. Even this statement.

Well, hopefully it's true somewhere else, this time. Yes, from Sanze's perspective, everything that could have happened to Mechan (and...literally everything else) DID, in some way. Reathin was far more accepting of that curious point than he had once been. Still, if you had to narrow your facts to one version of reality for a while, it would be better not to accidentally brainwash people. Reathin hoped that was the case as he returned the handshake, as well as the introduction.

Reathin, current Junibantai machinist, and definitely not a captain of anything in particular. Good to meet you. It WAS nice to have a proper name. Avoiding that for too long got awkward.

So, I'm just going to go ahead and ask a) How was the place constructed, b) why was it constructed, excellent sense of taste aside, and c) was there something in particular you were firing at earlier? My superiors tend to get antsy when unidentified weapons of mass destruction just kinda pop up.