The Next Generation

[Gilgamesh]

CHESTERTOWN, NEW YORK-NOON

Gilgamesh's car rumbled down a dirt road towards a small farm away from prying eyes. His father had purchased it when Lucius was 7 for his mother. It was a birthday gift since she had picked up equestrianism. He had even bought her a beautiful Zangersheider with a deep chestnut red coat as well as a set of competition hurdles. Sadly she passed before they could use any of them. The horse was sold almost as soon as it arrived and the farm sat empty outside of a couple yearly visits from a maintenance crew. It was the perfect place for what he had planned.

He had requested Angie, his PA, to invite Mycelia out to the farm for a training exercise. In a normal situation, which this was not, MIRA's facilities would be the best location to develop PMPD related skills. While that was part of his goal Gilgamesh also wanted to test her capabilities for a secret project he had been putting together. It wasn't nefarious but it wouldn't get anywhere close to where he wanted it to be if MIRA caught wind before it was ready.

The Escalade pulled to a halt outside of a large red barn with a bright white roof. Stepping our of the car opened the floodgates of his memories. While his father never visited the farm after his mothers death Lucius would use it for everything from parties to weekend trips with his friends. Since joining MIRA he hadn't been back. A small smirk crept across his face. He was dressed casually. A pair of Tom Ford Cooper Ecru slacks with black Celine Homme Leather Chelsea boots, a Brunello Cucinelli black tee, and a pair of black Rayban Clubmaster Classics.

He moved through the empty barn and opened up a set of double doors that lead to a fenced off horse pen. The metal fencing was high enough, and hopefully sturdy enough, to hold up with whatever these two were going to throw at it. Although if it didn't it wasn't like his father would ask him any questions. His hands hit his hips and he looked up at the sky, it really was a beautiful day.

 

[Ira]

Mycelia was a strange creature.

Not in the sense that she was 'not human,' though such a note had been debated before. Nor was her strangeness attributed to her PMPD abilities, though where the human within her began and the mycelium replication ended was a matter the eggheads still argued over. No, what made her a 'strange creature' was her idea of a 'hobby.'

Mycelia grew mushrooms. Not just any mushrooms either, she grew cuttings pulled from her own body. Spawn that broke free from the shackles of her skin had to be cut and the skin burned to prevent more from bursting forth. Mycelium stayed within the body, along with blood and all those other little things that belonged within the skinsuit. But, secretly, she had begun taking little bits before the burning and propagating them within her apartment.

MIRA had no idea- rather, they had no idea as to the origin of the mushrooms Mycelia grew. They found the idea of the mushroom kid growing mushrooms to be both strange and boring. A strange creature growing strange little bits. A novel concept not worth scientifically pursuing, but worth a few laughs around the breakroom Keurig.

Recently, MIRA had refocused on a few more prominent members and left Mycelia to her own devices. Subsequently, she had not seen the sun in nearly two full weeks. Her eyes had grown a little greyer than before, her skin a little whiter, and her body a little denser. She weighed in at 221 kgs the last time she touched the scale. MIRA would want to know about that since she showed no outward signs of growth, but Mycelia was not interested in their tests at the moment. She was only interested in her mushrooms.

So it was surprising when Gilgamesh requested her presence for a training exercise. Not only did he reach out to her, a rarity among MIRA agents to speak to the strange creature in the first place, but he requested her at a non-MIRA controlled facility. A PA working for Gilgamesh brought her to a farm and told her to wait for his arrival. So wait she had, sitting quietly on the farmhouse's porch until she heard the gentle sounds of a vehicle rolling down a dirt road.

Rising from her position of lying flat and staring at the sky, she followed silently a few dozen meters behind Gil as he exited his vehicle and entered the barn. Perhaps he had seen her, perhaps he could sense her, perhaps not. No matter his reaction, Mycelia was silent as she moved. Her bare feet meshed gently with the dirt, gravel, and earth to pad her approach like that of a stalking cat. As Gilgamesh stopped and observed the sky, Mycelia gently made a noise to announce her presence.

She was dressed simply and casually, a knee-length, thick plaid skirt, well-sized for easy movement, a loose tee-shirt with a graphic of a mushroom 'saying' 'Tell me the name of God,' and a medical mask covering her face. Mycelia attempted to smile under her mask to disarm any tension, Gilgamesh's training would easily notice it was the practiced facial movement of a Cloak, there was no joy behind her eyes.

"Hello."

 

[Gilgamesh_]

"Hello Mycelia, its nice to see you again. How've you been since the bank robbery?"

He wasn't put off by the rehearsed smile. He wasn't really put off by any of her quirks/mannerisms. They lived in a world of heroes and villains. It would've been more offputting if she wasn't strange. He stepped to the side and gestured for her to step into the Horse Pen.

"I hope the drive wasn't too hectic and I apologize for the secrecy. Ya know I've read your file, your powers are simple but, I'd be lying if I said that was a bad thing." He had read pretty much everyone's file. Angie would always make sure to deliver any new ones to him with his morning coffee.

 

[Ira]

"I have been, well. Time has passed, MIRA has not called on me for more work. This is fine. How have you been?"

It was said with the same monotone Mycelia carried during their first meeting. It was the dance of small talk that Mycelia had studied and practiced. It wasn't something that came naturally to her, in fact very little came 'naturally' to Mycelia. At first, a few scientists offered to test her for autism or some other social disorder. However, after a few sessions, the results were sealed and no more mental tests were performed.

"Secrecy is fine." Mycelia stated as she entered the Horse Pen. She reached out and touched the steel cage as she entered, it felt sturdy. That would be important. "My abilities are simple, yes, a result of the program's intentions. Unfortunate that it can not be replicated."

Walking toward the middle, Mycelia gently removed the surgical mask from her face. Little tendrils of mushroom had crawled and pierced their way through the skin of her cheeks. The disturbing grey matter stretched as she talked in a way that was decidedly 'unskinlike.' It was one of the outward tells of what laid beneath the surface that could not be easily controlled, and one of the many reasons her Cloak persona wore a mask.

"I read your powers as well. You are extraordinary." Her tone was quiet, but genuine despite the lung rattle with every exhale. "Should we lay ground rules? I would prefer you not sever any of my limbs, but I understand accidents happen."

 

[Gilgamesh_]

"Same shit, different day." He replied as the woman made her way towards the center of the pen. He closed the doors to the barn and latches them shut. With their arena sealed off he turned back towards her.

He wouldn't deny the mushrooms around her mouth were unsettling. He also wouldn't show those feelings on his face. The true power of a cloak to mask their internal selves. That ability separated the good from the great.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't use a full power severance during training. It's far to easy to unintentionally kill someone with it." He chuckled. "We'll go non-lethal of course. Other than that I want to see how well you adapt to a power that directly counters your skillset. I also have a few techniques I've been working on that I wanted to try out. If I eat shit then, you're free to laugh."

He took his fighting stance, both hands in his pockets, and gave her a nod that they could begin.

 

[Ira]

Mycelia did not respond for a few seconds, then she laughed. Fake, of course. It was a practiced action so natural that no less than a well-trained operative could deduce its fakeness. But Gilgamesh was a well-trained operative, and Mycelia knew that. She laughed not to deceive him, but out of politeness.

He had made a joke, hadn't he?

She watched him take up a fighting stance and debated taking up her own. Was she supposed to attack- or defend? He had not been clear. The command of 'non-lethal' had been understood, but his secondary of 'want to see adaptation' left a little to be desired. Breathing in deeply, Mycelia decided she would move on the offensive first.

Her body moved fast, far faster than a regular human, but slower than the projected outcomes of the project that unintentionally created her. The density of her muscle mass and tight bonds inside her bone structure prevented easy, fast movement without pushing her limits and self-inflicting pain. Pain could be mitigated, however, and she would see if Gilgamesh would react to her moving faster than her file indicated she was capable of.

It was a relatively simple first strike, a few surefooted steps forward leading into a simple right hook aimed at Gilgamesh's sternum. If she made contact, she knew she had the strength to cleave straight through a human's chest like a thick slab of playdough. If she made contact, of course, and Mycelia did not expect to make contact.

The first strike was a 'want to see adaptation' of her own.

 

[Gilgamesh_]

He knew she was fast, since he'd seen her in action, and that knowledge still paled in comparison to seeing that type of speed used against him. A cloud of dust kicked up where she was standing. Her arm shot forward to deliver its flesh cleaving payload. As the fist approached she would feel something pushing back against her. His polarity field working at full force would slow her arm before completely halting it. No matter how much strength she put behind that fist; it would never reach him without an understanding of the mysterious field.

The outwards effects of the field, preventing objects from touching Gilgamesh, were easily observable and well documented. The complex inner workings were classified secrets that only MIRA understood. The field wasn't truly always working, otherwise he would never be able to touch anything. Instead it was constantly at the ready with a few triggers to turn it on. The first and easiest way to engage the field was actively. If Gilgamesh wanted it to repel air molecules it could do that so long as he focused completely on doing so. The rest of the triggers were passive. Primarily the field used the speed something was traveling relative to Gilgamesh in tandem with Gilgamesh's own mental state as a way to assess threats. If Gilgamesh views someone as a threat than the field treats them as such and vice versa. If he isn't in a state of fight or flight than the field relies solely on relative speed.

He retaliated with a blow of his own. a straight punch with a vertical fist. By dropping his hip while keeping the wrist and elbow in alignment he was able to generate striking force equivalent to an Olympic level boxer from only an inch away. Regardless of if the blow connected he moved to swing around her and get to the center of the ring. "If you manage to strike me we'll call it your win."