85 – A mind experiment
85 – A mind experiment
[A/N: I'm alive. It's just been a shit year so far. A few more of my friends have died, as well as two of my Aunts. I'm also suffering from the widely known cancerous dating scene that is modern dating. FYI, don't do online dating; it never worked for me despite trying for almost three years at this point, rip. If you're reading this, you'll likely find that I'm also posting some chapters for other fics, including some I've been posting solely to Patreon. Speaking of my Patreon, I was still writing cafe on it and posting, reaching ch 102 on the Patreon, so there's that]
Amid my day, I was certainly not expecting a love tap on the protections I put in place on Joshua's mind and soul, nor was I expecting that love tap to suddenly become a wrecking ball that plowed through my warding with little effort. By the time I could force the intruder out, they had already gotten what they wanted and a peak under Joshua's hood, so to speak. Whoever or whatever it was managed to scan most of Joshua's memories before I kicked them out, that means they know what Joshua is capable of, what he has done, the blood on his hands, and the lives he has saved.
I thought the wards and barriers I put up were sufficient against whatever could be thrown at it, but that was proved wrong by whoever or whatever did this. I could improve the barriers even more, but that would take a few hours, and Joshua would need to be completely unconscious for me to set them up.
Splitting myself to form another clone, I walked over to the simulator, where I found Joshua throwing his new 'students' at an unbeatable challenge, especially for their levels. Despite that, they were making quite the progress, as I could see them scouring through a war-torn battlefield within the streets of New Vegas in front of the Lucky 13 Casino; they set up traps using mines and explosives, and one of them even made a Bouncy Betty, an explosive they hid under rock and dirt, that would activate from pressure, that would send a grenade up into the air.
"How are they doing?" I asked Joshua, who looked no worse for wear despite the mind-probing, not that he noticed it.
"Decent. The large thug is less skilled than Caesar's Centurions. He has no skill with a blade, and his marksmanship and strength are the only thing passable about his skills. The redhead is by far the most skilled of all of them. She has taken the lead and shows the others in between the waves how to make traps to thin out the enemy's numbers. The last two, however, are complete novices; they have already made several mistakes that should have been fatal if not for the thug and redhead that saved them," Joshua explained, his eyes not leaving the scene below us.
"What are they fighting?" I asked, curious.
"At the moment, they are fighting the wasteland filth, Raiders, Fiends, Jackals, Great Khan, Powder Gangers, Ghouls, and the lesser of the NCR's army," Joshua informed with displeasure.
"And they are struggling? What's in the next wave?" I asked, baffled, looking down at the four.
Swiping his hand, the wave manager appeared before me while Joshua explained his thought process.
"I am sending in waves of enemies, five total per round. In between each round is a five-minute grace period to stock up on equipment, assemble traps, and rest. They are on the fourth wave of this round. This wave will consist of multiple waves, the first of which will be around thirty fiends armed with various small caliber and melee weaponry. The second wave will be a wave of twenty Jackals, and the last will be fifteen Great Khans," Joshua explained.
The first wave would be completely unorganized drug, drug-addicted raiders and would be easy to dispatch by anyone with a gun and some ammo. On the other hand, the second wave was more organized and would feature some units with some actual armor, with a 'Boss' of the gang who would be wearing a full suit of metal armor, something that any sufficiently powerful rifle or pistol could pierce through. The last wave would be the toughest, as the Great Khan is an old clan of chem producers and raiders living in huts and RVs across the wasteland. Their armor was not the best, but they were all equipped with hunting rifles, 10mm pistols, and shotguns, and the 'Chief' of this group would even have a grenade launcher.
"I see; this will be a decent test of their skill, but you do realize that giving them a five-minute grace period between rounds is being a bit...generous, right?" I asked, getting a nod from Joshua.
"Yes, I know, but this is merely a test, a practical exam where I can see their skills and experiences. They are not meant to win, and I will not test their endurance just yet. They'll eventually lose regardless," Joshua explained his reasoning.
"That's fair. Just keep in mind that the simulator is only a few times faster than the outside world, so do try not to keep them in here past closing," I asked.
Getting a nod, I threw on a simple barrier that should last until tonight and exited the simulation with this clone. Already fifteen minutes had passed outside despite the few minutes inside talking with Joshua. It was a good thing that while none of the injuries Joshua's students would receive in the simulation would be automatically healed outside of the simulation, they'd keep the gains they got from the simulator; it was the perfect exercise and training room for all manner of practical subjects.
They were lucky to have Joshua as a teacher; the man of God was quite the teacher if his memories were anything to go by...speaking of his memories, I still was not expecting to have an older Joshua Graham under my service. This Joshua had lived past the game's events and lived in a village founded with the help of Nathaniel and the two tribes under their care. It was beautiful, and the things they taught the unified tribe would ensure their survival against whatever the wasteland threw at them.
Joshua was even more qualified for the role of teacher and trainer than I originally envisioned, so I was betting whatever he was going to put his students through, they'd come out all the better for it, as I doubted Joshua would accept 'quits' due to his life in the Wasteland. Ah, just imagine the hell they would go through. It brought a sadistic smile to my clone's form.
That's when I heard the sound of rushing footsteps from the entrance. Looking over with one of my clones, I was met with a sweating Logan, who seemed to be panicking for the front desk. Before he could reach the front desk, one of my clones intervened, "Logan, what's the rush?"
Taking quick breaths, it was clear that the man needed some exercise to get back into tip-top shape. I waited patiently for him to speak.
"What did you do?" he asked hastily.
"What did I do?" I parroted, confused, tilting my head slate to show it.
"Charles," Logan emphasized. "What did you do to Charles?" he asked again, clearly concerned for the mind-rapist many of the X-Men community despised despite his 'good' deeds towards mutant kind.
"Ah, so that's who attempted to attack my employee," I spoke with realization.
"Attack?" Logan questioned, confused.
"Yes? Did you not know?" I asked, curious.
"Charles? He'd never do something like that!" Wolverine aggressively defended the 'Professor' of the mutant institution.
"He's really got his hooks dug deep, doesn't he?" I wondered aloud, what would happen if I ripped out Charles's mental hooks on Wolverine? Would Logan still want to save the beloved Professor, or would he try and finish the deed himself?
Without so much as a continued response, I instead reached out, a void of energy capping around my clawed hand as I gripped Logan's skull tightly. My magic seeped into his head, sifting through his ancient, compared to humans, mind, and began to pluck every string of Charles's influence on the old mutant's mind.
I had no doubt that this would cause a bit of chaos, especially once Logan begins to think and see clearly. There was certainly quite a bit of tampering done to Logan's mind, from blocked memories to influenced feelings and attitudes toward certain individuals such as Magneto and even Charles himself.
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