[Sama in the MU] Part 17
Added 2025-03-30 04:10:49 +0000 UTC“Captain, are you prepared to hear some tremendously blunt criticism?” I asked him archly.
His eyes flickered. He was the man in charge of keeping morale up, the team organized, training, and connections with other organizations stable and open. He did a tremendous amount of work the others didn’t really appreciate and see, and it showed whenever he was absent, as things like the Sinister Six invading the mansion happened.
“Go ahead,” he nodded, eyes sharp.
“I would not allow you on my field team,” I admitted to him honestly, and he blinked. “I am not sure of the reasons why, but you are deliberately hampering yourself, and I don’t allow that on my team. You have failed to improve yourself perceptibly in field combat, you have stayed behind the technology curve, and you have not expanded your options or operating range in combat.
“I would be happy to keep you as tactical assistance, logistics, and coordination support, and you could certainly serve in and thrive in the auxiliary and support teams... but I would not allow you on the combat teams. You would slow them down.”
His jaw ticked, and his eyes narrowed. “That IS a harsh assessment,” he agreed after a moment. “What are you basing it on?”
“A multitude of factors. First of all, you have no enhanced movement options. Ergo, you are slow. Oh, you are faster than a normal human athlete, which is all well and good. But, you can’t fly. You don’t have superspeed. You can’t run on water or on walls. You can’t jump superhuman distances.
“Second, you don’t have range. You are a soldier who has served in active combat, and I presume keeps up to grade on all military options, but you don’t even bother to carry a firearm, and restrict your ranged options to a flat discus with an effective range of a few dozen meters. If an opponent is a hundred meters away, you are effectively helpless against them.”
His jaw ticced. “Good points...”
I held up a third finger before he went on. “You wear chain mail over Kevlar. Seriously. You are on a team with a man wearing the most advanced power armor in the world, who could solve both of your previous failings instantly, and yet, you wear outdated protective gear, meaning you are squishy.
“Four, if you lose your shield, you lose half or more of your fighting ability against superhuman opponents, because you lack the ability to hurt them.
“Five, your shield lacks the ability to return to your hand if you lose it, meaning you haven’t addressed the weaknesses of the fourth at all.
“Six, your real time coordination with your team is lacking. The rest of your team respects your ability to command, but they simply don’t realize how utterly awesome you are at it. It is, in fact, your greatest asset, and you are simply not utilizing it to its maximum. In terms of intelligence, they respect Tony Stark far more, and Reed Richards, not realizing that you are their clear superior in terms of mastering physical skills and strategic and tactical thinking... and you think fifteen times faster than they do.
“In short, Captain, for all the training and conditioning you are foisting upon others, you have not been doing the same for yourself. In my eyes there is a clear psychological problem there, and given your lack of field operational improvements, you wouldn’t be allowed onto the primary combat teams. If there was a standard human operation, as in you are fighting normal soldier-class opponents, fine, you can definitely handle yourself in personal combat with chaff opponents. You still lack range and ground-clearing speed, and would be considered sub-tier on my team in all functional aspects there. I’d probably relegate you to scouting and stealth operations, and change out your kit.”
He considered me for a long moment, and finally laughed wryly. “You really don’t pull any punches, do you, Sunstone?” he asked rhetorically. “I doubt there is anyone on the Avengers who would say something like that.”
“They respect you too much for who and what you are. Living legend of World War II. The first and best super-soldier. Experienced military veteran and commander. Moral foundation and center of the team. Disciplined, extremely skilled in personal combat, teacher, disciplinarian, motivator.
“But I’m not looking at what you are good at, I’m looking at where you are weak. And in a world of superhuman and ever-increasingly technological human combat, you are weak in some areas that are simply not forgivable.”
He crossed his arms and studied me. “Well, not everyone is born with super-powers, Sunstone, or has access to cosmic weapons.”
“Or indestructible shields with impossible ability to ablate incoming kinetic and energy-based attacks? Or are subjected to radical military experiments that enhance a person to the utmost edge of human capability, and then beyond?” I just sniffed. “I was born plain human, Captain. You were given your superhuman ability and weaponry... I made, earned, or took mine.”
“My apologies. I did not mean to sound arrogant.” I waved it off. “I have read your book, of course. Are the allusions and information in there true?”
My mindclaw snapped up. “Where is your blade, Captain?” I asked calmly, as he looked at the golden force structure. “As a soldier, you should know that you always carry a knife.”
He examined it thoughtfully. “You taught Natasha how to bring one of those up.”
“Every single member of my team can bring one of these up. Every single mutant, mutate, gene job, Deviant, Inhuman, and otherwise superhuman member of the Enclave learns to bring one up.” I inclined my head. “You think being a super-soldier doesn’t allow you to qualify? It did for Natasha. Captain, you are a nutritionist, even if you personally don’t need yourself to be. Is there any way under heaven that your caloric intake actually matches the amount of energy you can expend in a given day without effort?”
He pursed his lips, considering my point. “Probably not...” he admitted. I lifted an eyebrow. “No,” he agreed with a sigh.
“Your super-soldier serum is like a certain set of psi-powered abilities, your endurance of which is but one of them. Your self-healing and repair ability is another. Speed of thought and your reflexes is a third. None of them are possible merely with normal biology. Of course you are Powered! That you are operating on a subtler, broader paradigm then most Powered is beside the point. You are indeed a super-soldier, not super-strong. The power of the Powered doesn’t just manifest in brute force, after all.”
“How long would it take me to learn to do that?” He glanced at my mindclaw again.
“Ten seconds, because I would teach you, and it is simple. Improving it is a function of your cognitive ability. Given that is in the mental realm, not the physical, and thus can be worked on while you are doing other things... I imagine you will get up to Natasha’s level within a month or two, given your learning ability.”
He considered me again. “You seem to be evaluating my mental abilities higher than my physicals.”
“Captain!” I said sharply, and he frowned. “Quit dissembling with me! I am here for an honest assessment and exchange of ideas! Your avoidance of the topic is insulting my intelligence and humiliating yourself, not modesty! If you are not going to take matters seriously, I can simply leave, and you can wallow in your own ineffectiveness! You do not need my approval to do so!”
His gaze hardened almost imperceptibly at my rebuke. “Those are strong words, Sunstone!”
“Quit treating me like a fool, Captain.” My voice was dipping into ice. “I am not your teammates, who see what you want them to see. I am also extraordinarily intelligent. I also live at twenty times human speed of thought. I am also possessed of extraordinary mental discipline. If you think I will believe this act you are persisting with, you are gravely insulting me, and I will take it directly as such.” My eyes narrowed sharply, meeting his without any trouble.
There was silence, and I wasn’t going to break it. He was either going to be honest with me, or I was going to leave.
Twitches here and there, shifts in body posture and tone. If you knew what they meant, you’d feel the threat level spiking. He was actually starting to give me real attention.
“Oh, that’s a little better. About half, right?” His eyes flickered. “Well, given that we are dealing using words, that’s to be expected. I’m giving you about a tenth, after all.” There was a tic in his cheek. “So, are you ready to use squad competitiveness and my admonishments as a proper excuse to drop the dumb super-soldier representative of the common man shtick and actually become effective once again?” I prodded him.
“You are dangerously observant,” he noted, blue eyes almost shining with the thinking going on behind them at fifteen times human speed.
“You are the greatest natural commander in the world, and you are acting dangerously stupid. It’s a gift I don’t hide.”
His breath released slowly under my lack of compromise. “Very well,” he agreed, waving his hand. “I have deliberately not been indulging in the super-scientific levels of my companions. My role has been and always will be to be an inspiration and representative of the average fighting man. I don’t want to be flying around in a suit of power armor only a billionaire can afford.”
“Which is no excuse not to be using a ranged weapon,” I pointed out. “And please, no justifications about the power of a fist overcoming all. You’ve killed in war, there’s times dogs need to be put down and shot, and the ranged options out there need not all be lethal. Plus,” I tapped the desk meaningfully, “you could always get out of the stupid ‘I’m from the forties and don’t understand this weird science stuff’ fake mindset and design a suit of armor yourself. There’s knuckleheads in hardsuits who have better gear then you, the most elite of America’s soldiers. Quit being a Neanderthal. The soldiers of the American Army want to see you as a dominating power in the Avengers, not just an officer. If that takes some power armor, so be it.”
“You’re saying I should design and make my own suit of armor?” His eyes flashed thoughtfully.
“If you tell me you couldn’t take a month to catch up on the related tech and proceed to do so, I’m leaving,” I said scornfully. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a gift or knack for higher sciences. You ingest information at fifteen times the normal rate, you process it instantly, you have an eidetic memory, and you can spot inefficiencies and weaknesses to exploit in systems instantly, no different than battlefield tactics.
“Military Engineering is a science all its own. You don’t have to be researching the edge of quantum physics, Captain. You need to be taking the tech that is out there, making it useful, and staying on top of it. Let Stark, Pym, and Richards invent the stuff. You can use it far better than they ever could. It’s time for you to stay relevant.”
His eyes were still keen. “And no doubt you came armed with ideas and schematics,” he almost smiled.
“Well, of course.” I made a dismissive gesture off to the side. “Stark has to rely on his technology to optimize his fighting ability. He doesn’t consider the fact that you could do so completely naturally, freeing up power and coding for other means. You can track multiple information feeds better than he can, you think and respond faster, and if you have a dozen weapons at your disposal, you can deploy all of them or the best of them to the right place and time better then he can.” I just rolled my eyes. “I imagine you never play video games against the rest of the team. It must look like children’s antics to you. Do you even bother to play chess against them?”
He seemed to untense a little bit. “I belong to an international league I dabble in,” he admitted.
“Vexillum?” I asked archly, and he blinked. “Umeme,” I said, and he pursed his lips. “Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice you kept throwing ranking games to keep your place stable. I’m doing the exact same thing. Stark competes under Fero, Richards does under Kwatro. I make sure to beat them every time.”
Despite himself, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, that is news. What else do you have in mind?”
“I’d like to take advantage of the fact you’ve got an Asgardian Thunder God on your team,” I replied promptly, “and make your shield magical.”
That elicited some surprise. “That... is a new approach,” he admitted. “How would Thor be involved in this?”
“He can get ahold of a pound or two of pure uru for the process.”
“You can forge uru?” He was impressed. Thor’s hammer was made of the stuff. It was supposed to be only forged by the dwarves of Nidaveller.
“I can forge Olympian adamant. Uru is almost identical.”
“You can make my shield... stronger?” He was thoughtful.
“Your shield is actually stronger than either adamant or uru... but it is not magical. Thor’s hammer can break your shield, and anyone that can manipulate matter could do so. For instance, Magneto could shatter it, if he focused on the task, and so could I.”
There was a hint of wariness in his eyes. “That is impressive. What are you intending to do to it?”
“Your shield is the single most iconic superheroic icon in the world.” He blinked at the segueway. “From a mythic, totemic, and magical standpoint, it is an incredible focus of belief. I would like to coalesce the power of that belief into that shield, and make it something as wonderful, mythic, and mighty as Mjolnir, in its own way. I should like to make your shield as eternal as Hope itself.”
He stared at me in as close to shock as he could. “You could do that?” he finally asked.
“Give me a pound of uru, and a star to forge it upon, and I most certainly could,” I said calmly. “And...” I held up a small bar of adamant, less than a finger in length, “you recall I disarmed and depowered the Wrecking Crew outside the mansion when I arrived. In this bar is the sum total of the magical energy that empowered them to the standards of an Asgardian warrior. I propose to devote this power to the Shield and the person who bears it, if the Shield finds them worthy.”
He swallowed at the sight of it. Before he could say anything, I went on, “Unless you feel that someone like the Wrecker and his crew are more appropriate vessels for it than you and up to three of your comrades.”
He stared at it, and finally shrugged. “No, I can’t say that they are,” he finally admitted.
“Which also means that the new armor you will be wearing will not only have less need for computing power, it will need less for strength enhancement and pure protective power, since the person inside will be as durable as an Asgardian warrior... or moreso, as I’m sure an Asgardian Super-Soldier would be a very impressive warrior, indeed.”
He eyed me, that little bar. “Might that be a little too much power?” he had to ask.
“If the Shield thinks so, I’m sure she’ll let you know. It’s not like the power is yours. It will be springing forth from Hope, Valor, Liberty, Life, and Faith. If you can’t hold up to those values, it is definitely going to be too much for you.” I made a five-pointed star in the air. “Of course, to do this I’ll have to borrow your shield for a while. I imagine that is a good time to be running around in a decent suit of armor.”
His eyes were glittering at me. “This talk is turning out better than I anticipated,” he acknowledged. “Are you going to trot out the schematics now?”
“No. I’m going to tell you about the telepathic link-up I share with my team, and I’ll trouble you for your promise that you won’t reveal a word of this to anyone. This is something we do not talk about, because I do not want those who would exploit it for personal reasons to know about it.”
His brow furrowed, but he slowly nodded. “This has to do with the superior coordination your team has in communication and battle, correct?” Of course he would notice that.
“It does, and it is also how I teach my people how to bring out a mindblade so quickly.” I quirked a smile again. “Tell me, Captain; would you like to see how it works?”
