Inheritance

[Marcus Lok]

Marcus took a generous drink from the glass that he had filled in preparation for this project. Across from him hung the now disowned cocoon of the man that he had once idolized in his own mind. The man that had mentored him, taken care of him, and provided for him was gone. He had gone peacefully, that was at least true, and he had gone happily. He left behind something that Marcus knew he would eventually have, by wish of this figure, though he had not expected it so suddenly. He had expected it to be many years from now, and perhaps then he would have had it stored for sentimental value, perhaps procuring his own skin that would one day be a legend kept forever in the archives of Keldabe.

His father, the man who had one such merit in his own time, had died not but three days before, and Marcus had only just found the ability to search through his possessions. He approached the door to the small garage with a deep and heavy pit in his stomach that reflected the feelings that any child might experience upon clearing out an area that had once been the site of so much history. Relics from the past littered his workshop. Bits of this and pieces of that still lay scattered on tables and there were only a few mentionable antiques caught his eye. The blaster which his father had used in a small skirmish against some local smugglers that were threatening the neighboring village, it had taken his first life. The wrecked engine of a swoop bike engine dominated the corner by the workbench, a telling sign of his adventurous and often times endangering past with the other local boys in their county. Finally, a heap of parts that looked as though they belonged to a droid. Assembled, they would form a perfectly functioning and active maintenance droid that could help his father in his projects... Though a stubborn resentment of such assistance prevented the work from ever being started, let alone finished.

A slight shifting of metal in a crate nearest to Marcus caused him to open his eyes. He had been day dreaming of the past again, and it was something that was beginning to annoy him. Though he supposed it couldn't be avoided...

 

[Marcus Lok]

With great care, Marcus took hold of the metal plates that made up the arm sections of the set and went to work. He had set about purchasing several articles of equipment that he thought might be useful in the upgrading of the armor, particularly an gauntlet mounted shield that had seen high praise on the market and a new grappling hook that would be set in the opposite gauntlet to replace the older model. These pieces would undoubtedly make him all the more effective in both infiltration and hand to hand combat, two areas that Hackers never seemed to meet the end of. The metal plates of the gauntlet piece were cold to the touch, and scars from a few long forgotten battles still remained etched in the armored surface.

Soon the piece of tech was properly placed by the gel marking, and Marcus set to work with the torch which soon illuminated the metal with a bright blue spark. The heat from the welder radiated a heat that he remembered well from the day that the armor was forged, though perhaps not with the same joy that he had felt when he saw its final completion.

 

[Marcus Lok]

It had been a cold day, and he remembered how the smoke rose from the chimney in the workshop behind their house. It was a modest forge, certainly not a grand iron works but by no means a poor man's campfire. His father had been toiling for some time at a large section of the armor, though most of it he had completed the two prior days. Marcus had seldom thought about what was going on in the workshop as he had been far to busy running around with some of the other youths that lived around their home. His father would usually work all throughout the day and then come in for supper covered in soot and ash, but today he seemed determined to finish off the project for good. And so, Marcus had a fine opportunity to observe its final completion.

He pressed a small finger to the panel that controlled the large durasteel door, and shuddered a bit as it hissed open in the dark to reveal the dim orange glow that emitted from the forge. He wondered where his father could be in the darkness, perhaps he was hiding? Soon, however, his large silhouetted figure appeared at contrast with the firelight and soon a great flash of sparks came forth from what he could now see was the anvil that had been the subject of so much torment over the past few weeks. The target of the hammer seemed to be a large glowing plate, a shaped plate, not flat but formed. His father continued to beat the plate relentlessly until the color had faded from it and it was thrown once more into the smoldering embers. It was at that moment, that his father looked towards the door.

"Come here, adiik."

Not one to question the wishes of his father, the young Marcus approached rather rapidly, being careful to stay clear of any spare rubbish that had been forgotten on the floor.

 

[Marcus Lok]

Soon, he had reached the man. A rough, yet caring face was revealed by the orange light of the fire, and a warm gloved hand clapped around his neck. His father pulled him close and let Marcus observe the forge as the metal grew to a dull red once more. It reminded him of the long journeys he and his father had spent outside of their settlement, hunting Shatuals by the light of day and the meals they would share by the crackling embers of a fire when their hunt was finished. He had always valued the stories that his father shared by the light of the fire almost as much as he appreciated the game that the man always seemed to be able to find with such ease.

Suddenly, his mind was snapped back to reality when his father pushed him aside and withdrew the metal plate, which now shone a bright white, from the forge and back onto the anvil. Without a word, he began to smash the plate repeatedly, sending sparks flying across the room as if it were a celebration with fireworks. The metal bent to the will of the hammer and soon, as the metal grew cooler and the bright white light faded to a dull orange, Marcus could see the shape that it formed. It was a chest piece, and he knew it. His father had spent little effort in attempting to hide the fact that he was creating a new set of armor, in fact, he had talked about it with loving detail ever since he had began. He would often times come in from his work with one of the pieces in his hands to pass around the table and praise the quality of his craftsmanship and the material. There were many nights when his Shatual grew cold do to his interest in examining one of the finished gauntlets.

 

[Marcus Lok]

With the metal plate cooling once more, his father's visage grew less and less detailed as the darkness encroached past the light of the forge. He must have spent the better part of the evening watching his father repeat this process, and while not quite entertaining, the rhythmic beating of iron against iron in conjunction with the dim firelight was nearly hypnotizing. Finally, the piece was near completion, and Marcus' father grasped him by the shoulder once more and drew him over to the workbench. On the table was something that he would never quite forget.

It was hard to make out in the dim light of the room, but after a few moments he could finally define the features well enough to see what it was. From the rounded top and the flat bottom, he could only assume that it was the helmet. The helmet, the crowning jewel of any set of armor, and it did indeed look quite magnificent in the dim orange glow that illuminated the shed. Though, as his father brought it closer to reach, Marcus suddenly realized that his time of idly observing the spectacle by the forge was over.

Soon, the helm was dropped on a stool, so as to be at a more reasonable height for its newly assigned caretaker. Almost as quickly as the dull metal sounded against the wood of the stool, a rag had been placed in his hand and a bottle of polish sat next to the metal head ware.

 

[Marcus Lok]

He set about his task with great tenacity, as he was always eager to please his father when the opportunity presented itself. With each stroke of the rag against the dark metallic surface the helmet came to reflect a brilliant orange hue. In it's current state, the helmet was little more than an outline for all of the extra equipment to be added on, but it held a nearly tribal beauty about it. Handcrafted items such as this often had the effect of showing small indications of the toil of the laborer, and although he was sure that his father would buff out these minor dents or protrusions at a later date, he was glad that the unfinished product had been placed in his care. It left much more the imagination...

Finished...

Marcus examined his handiwork on the gauntlet with unimpressed confirmation. He knew that he had done his work well before he completed it, his preparation had made sure of that, and it was these reflections on a past that was long gone and forgotten that kept his work slow and careful. On any other set of armor he might have well worked more quickly, though he doubted the quality would be the same. In his mind, their was little more shameful than accidentally botching a job on what would be such an essential part of his life.

 

[Marcus Lok]

Much of that night with his father had been spent polishing the various pieces of the armor that had already been completed in anticipation of the final article being completed. Finally a hiss sounded from the forge as a scorching hot piece of metal was placed into the cool water that sat adjacent to the anvil. From within, he could see for a mere second that it was indeed the chest plate that his father had been working on for the better part of the evening, though the soft orange glow that it held was quickly extinguished in a cloud of steam.

Work did not proceed on the chest piece until the very morning when it had properly cooled. He had just finished breakfast and was well on his way to the shed when his father opened the door and motioned for him to come inside. The piece was already resting on the stool with the bottle of polish set just to the side. His father must have done the finishing work during the early hours of the morning, for it bore now significant signs of the forge or characteristic dents that usually accompanied a piece that had just completed the forging process. His father instructed him to give a coat of polish not only to the chest piece, but the other pieces of armor that had already taken a coat. And so his work proceeded, slowly moving the rag across the strips of metal with great care as his father set about attaching the straps and other necessities to their designated positions.

Soon, however, his father began work on the helmet. He brought out a large array of electronics, and though it was still a very early prototype of what would be added, it was to be a very long day of connecting circuits and rewiring packaged materials.

 

[Marcus Lok]

The rest of that day was spent largely on the helmet after he had finished polishing every plate of armor on the rack. His father brought him close after that and began to name multiple components out to his novice son who was so eager to learn. Wires, hardware, and all of the connections in between were shown to Marcus, and he would learn all he could. This short but quite detailed lesson on the basic components of computers and targeting systems would begin a small flame in the boy that would drive him on to begin tinkering with all sorts of electronics later on in his life.

Finally, with all of the connections made up and prepared, the visor was fitted into the helmet. A few wires needed to be connected to the HUD systems of the helmet, but after that, the piece was fully complete. From outside, it appeared to be a simple thing that held a classic design. From within, however, the story was much different. Targeting systems, different types of vision enhancers and biological monitors could all be accessed through a simple shift in the face or eyes.

He counted himself truly lucky to be the first to wear it.

 

[Marcus Lok]

That should do it...

Marcus was already well on his way to attaching the grappling hook to the other gauntlet and it looked like it was going to be yet another perfect fit. He considered himself lucky that he would not have to be doing any sort of shaving down of the components to make them fit better or to enhance the aesthetic, as this was often times risky and could damage the technology that made the whole piece operate. Without the need for these adjustments or edits to the original design, he found the process of actually mounting the devices rather trivial.

As he stared longer and longer at the pieces that had defined his father for more than a decade, he couldn't help but recall the last year that he knew his father to wear it.

He would usually come home from a job after a little more than a week or a few days, and in that time the helmet might be completely fine or quite the opposite. There were multiple occasions in which Marcus was delegated the task of fixing some sort of electronic bug in the helmet's HUD, as it was fast becoming his area of expertise, and because his father often times preferred to take the fight to the enemy with his fists, even if they held a particular advantage in size. This tendency to get mixed up in melee's took their toll on the electronics which Marcus now found himself gutting and replacing with updated modules that would hold up much better should those circumstances ever find him.

 

[Marcus Lok]

When the armor had finally been completed, it was already late in the night. He and Marcus had worked on it endlessly through the day and the final product was now hanging from the wall. His father rested a black soot covered hand on his shoulder and gave the metal an few knocks with the other. The short metallic booms signified the strength of the iron, and it was indeed a very well crafted piece. Marcus beamed up at the final product with great joy, he after all had been allowed to participate in its creation and he could not think of a better honor than that.

And it was in keeping with that traditional honor, that Marcus now finished the attachment of the new piece of tech. The additions to the armor had been irregular and sporadic, often happening when his father had found the free time to invest in the upgrades. What Marcus added now was certainly not the first bit of tech that was added after the armor's creation, and it would certainly not be the last. It was with this realization that one day he would need to learn the art of the forge and pass down the lesson that his father had never gotten the chance to give to him.

Maybe one day, but now he had work to do.