Chương 65: Tinkering

An extra minor affix might not make or break a high-level Kicker's gun, but to a kicker in the low teens like his teammates? Only Field Strip had charges. Tinker just required time and mental effort. After a quick text for Howie's approval (and some choice words about leaving him sweating it out in West Texas), Cole sat in the lab with a crate of tagged and labeled parts that Jefferson had saved up. Field Strip usually produced either one or two parts, but most Kickers only wanted specific affixes.

That had started building up a surplus of parts that Cole dug through. He pulled out a fire control group and a receiver, double-checking the labels with his analyzer. <Lesser receiver of flash freeze Frost elemental damage by this gun has a 4%-6% chance to flash freeze enemies for a number of seconds equal to the user's Intelligence times. 25.

> <Minor fire control group of multiproc Proc chances of ammo and afflictions are increased by 6%-8%>"This is why Bricker knew this subclass would be so valuable," said Cole.

"It's not just stripping parts and adding affixes to buff up every gun a little; it's distilling several guns to make a single gun incredible." He tapped the LF Analyzer against Howie's 20mm rifle. < Lesser cannon of brittle frost Enemies afflicted by frost afflictions take 9%-18% more damage for a number of seconds equal to Acuity. > It probably would have been obvious to Howie if he'd ever thought to ask the man what he thought about his subclass.

That kid was sharp, and Cole would bet his own eyes that there was a Dungeons and Dragons table somewhere in his past where the teenage Howie had obsessed over finding ways to break the game. Hell, he'd even mentioned it when they talked about Babel. If it's a game then it's got rules we can exploit. Cole brought the elemental spread chamber from Hard Tone's old launcher and activated Tinker. The part sank smoothly into Howie's launcher. Lewis Fields and level-ups and abilities were all, to some degree, game-like.

Lethal, fucked up games, but still. Games needed to be broken and exploited to get the most out of them. Cole held the fire control group over the launcher and concentrated. There was resistance this time, but over the next ten minutes, the fire control system sank into the launcher and the form-factor shifted slightly. Then, it was time for the receiver. If resistance had been tough with adding two parts, adding a third was like trying to fit a foam mattress into a matchbox.

He felt the gun might shatter under his hands, and it would certainly come apart if his focus lapsed for even a moment. The effort left Cole sweating like he'd just done a ten-mile ruck, and Jefferson was there to hand him a bottle of water, which he guzzled with shaking hands. Jefferson hit the amalgamated rifle with the LF analyzer, and his eyebrows shot up.

"I'll be damned. Chance to freeze enemies, more damage to frozen enemies, and affliction proc chance increased," said Jeff.

"This is boss-tier loot. The kind of stacked effects low-level Kickers assemble whole sets of gear to get. Probably one of the strongest armaments I've ever seen come out of Curahee. And you made it with junk." Jeff looked at the crate of parts.

"Think you can squeeze any more in there?" Cole shook his head, looking down at the launcher, which had changed in size and shape fairly drastically, and now had a cold, white mist rising from the barrel.

"It barely accepted the parts I managed to get in. I think there's a limit to how much power you can pack in, but who knows. Maybe that will change with higher quality gear or more Arquebus Engineer evolutions." This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. No wonder Bricker had been willing to hold him out of the field and power-level him.

Once the quality of his work increased with more levels and experience, he'd be making guns potentially many times their original power, especially if he found synergistic affixes to add. The only problem was that his subclass was telling him that the launcher would now degrade more quickly. But by then Howie would probably be looking to replace it with something of a higher base quality.

Cole had stuffed his own guns with upgrades, but they'd had limited armaments on-mission for him to Field Strip because otherworld firearms were still somewhat rare drops. But he'd been stripping parts here at the compound on and off for two weeks, and now there were crates of parts.

A quick text to the other members of his party confirmed that Roxy was fine with any modifications, Besson didn't want his belt-fed further fucked with while he wasn't there, and Nona of course had no otherworld firearms yet because her mind apparently didn't fully support the conceptual anchors needed for a Lewis Field to manifest them.

Cole dug through the crate, pulling out parts as Jefferson fetched Roxy's four-barreled shotgun, which thankfully, the biologic parts of the druidic armament weren't active in the upper floor of the armory. They came alive and began to drip in the lab, though, so Cole worked as quick as he could as Norn and Bjorn pitched a fit at the disgusting weapon.

Ignoring them, Cole fished out a wicked-looking bayonet with a bleed affix and the cylinder for a high-caliber revolver that added a fire effect to ammo fired by the gun. He was surprised to see the revolver cylinder was actually considered a compatible part. Not willing to risk destroying her gun by trying to squeeze three tinkered parts in it, he settled for those.

<Minor weeping shotgun (2 arquebus engineer affixes detected: Hemorrhage, Afterburn) Flesh wounds caused by this weapon have a 5%-8% chance to create a weeping sore on the location. Destroying the sore causes significant blood-loss. Blood loss caused by this weapon is increased by 2%-4%. Attacks with the attached bayonet cause heavy bleeding. Shots which damage enemies burst with additional fire damage after three seconds equal to 5%-8% of the shot's damage.

> Cole flipped the chamber out, which now rotated to the side of the shotgun like a revolver, then twisted the gun to flip it back in. Roxy would no longer need to fumble with a break-action reload in the middle of a firefight. And, if his guess was correct, the afterburn effect should be able to automatically pop the weeping sore weak points innate to the shotgun, which should then, cause even more bleeding than before thanks to the new Hemorrhage affix.

Jefferson peeked over his shoulder and Cole held up the analyzer for him to see.

"You've got a knack for this, my man," said Jefferson. Cole grinned and handed the shotgun back.

"Anyone who messes with us in Babel is in for a world of hurt. Between Howie's enhanced frost spells fired with a semi-auto cannon and Roxy's shotgun of fuck-your-day-up-real-quick, my patient hunting/fungal growth/anti-undead/weblauncher rifle is starting to look a bit unfocused. Though it's done me pretty well so far."

"Well, when you're running for your life in Curahee, you take whatever advantage you can get," said Jefferson, taking the shotgun back and working the new rotating reloader. He was careful to avoid the red sores on the weapon.

"I think Mrs. Doukas will be pleased with this one," he said. He nodded to the crate.

"What about the rest of those?" Cole had already considered that.

"I want to take a few of the smaller ones with me. If we find armaments in Babel, maybe I can improvise something great on the spot. Who knows?"

"Babel? That's where you're headed?" asked Jefferson.

"Yeah, in another week," said Cole.

"Why?"

"Be careful there, Cole. Don't spend too much time showing off those fancy firearms of yours if you can help it. Lots of worlds connect with Babel, and DOR ain't on good terms with a lot of them. Some of their champions and knights wouldn't think twice about claiming your LF key and getting them some guns conjured up by demented Earth minds." Cole huffed a laugh.

"Not exactly the most popular planet, are we?" he asked. Then sighed.

"They don't give us much choice." He put his palm over his face.

"I saw what they made Leon do. Kid was fourteen and they put the power of a B-52 bombing run in his hand and then forced him to use it. There's just… Just no way we could get along with anyone that would kidnap children and turn them into unwilling weapons of mass destruction." A thick hand dropped onto his shoulder, and Cole followed it back up to the ginger armorer.

"It's rough. Ain't no easy answer, neither. It's why we need people like you, Cole. People who can survive in these worlds, play in their sandboxes, earn their boons, and raise ten kinds of hell to bring our kids back." Cole closed his eyes for a moment and nodded.

"Let me take some of these parts and I'll make it eleven kinds of hell."

"Now we're talking."