WEBVTT

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Speaker 1: [rock music]

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Speaker 1: Mortal Steel, episode five.

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Speaker 1: [grass crunching] Fleabag pulled the
wagon, but it kept getting

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Speaker 1: stuck on even the smallest cracks in
the road. Why wouldn't one of the adults help?

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Speaker 1: They were all afraid to get close
probably. It's like they couldn't decide whether

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Speaker 1: they were in love or super scared.
Maybe some are both, which was weird.

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Speaker 1: Adults were weird, especially Uncle
Trey. He wore three pairs of socks

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Speaker 1: every day. Fleabag didn't even have
one pair of socks. He hit another crack

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Speaker 1: in the road and the wagon moaned.

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Speaker 2: Ugh. Oh, you hitting those
deliberately?

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Speaker 1: Fleabag looked back at the huge lump
covered by a blanket. For being a superhero,

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Speaker 1: sometimes Holy Man sure didn't act
like it. Superheroes weren't supposed to
complain

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Speaker 1: this much. Then again, Fleabag had
never had his arms ripped off, so maybe it was

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Speaker 1: okay to complain a little.

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Speaker 3: It might be easier if someone helped
me.

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Speaker 1: The adults all looked away or started
walking faster. Some of the older ones rubbed

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Speaker 1: one finger around on their chest. Was
that like a secret sign? The Holy

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Speaker 1: Man sign. That's what the head scary
boy had called him right

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Speaker 1: before he got dusted. Tough luck.
Never call out a superhero if you're not ready
to

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Speaker 1: get dusted. Fleabag would remember
that lesson. Even The Protector

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Speaker 1: got dusted. Fleabag didn't think
anyone could beat The Protector. Maybe he

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Speaker 1: really could beat The King. Not
without arms, though. It was a good thing he was

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Speaker 1: around. Every superhero needed a
sidekick.

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Speaker 3: Hey, how did you get your
superpowers?

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Speaker 1: Holy Man was quiet for a long time
under the blanket, so Fleabag

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Speaker 1: stopped walking. Maybe he fell
asleep. Then all the adults stopped

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Speaker 1: walking too.

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Speaker 2: Some women in black robes gave them
to me.

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Speaker 3: Really? Do they have superpowers too?

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Speaker 2: No. They just read a lot of books.

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Speaker 3: What? That's lame.

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Speaker 1: Unless they were magic books. Now,
that was a possibility. The Great

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Speaker 1: Talisman got her powers from a magic
book. He would know because he'd read every

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Speaker 1: Great Talisman comic book there was,
except one, issue number

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Speaker 1: 34, the fight with Blue Goo. But he'd
read number 35 where Blue

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Speaker 1: Goo gets sucked into a bottle and
trapped, so it wasn't that big of a deal. Still,

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Speaker 1: it would be cool to read it.

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Speaker 2: Ugh. How much longer, Fleabag?

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Speaker 3: We're close. You gotta be quiet,
okay?

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Speaker 1: There were guards up ahead where The
King's territory, Paradise, started. They

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Speaker 1: would let anyone in during the
daytime, but if you wanted to stay, you had to
pay or

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Speaker 1: join up with the scary boys.

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Speaker 2: Then why?

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Speaker 3: Because you can't fight until you get
your powers back. If The King finds you, he

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Speaker 3: won't wait until you're strong.

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Speaker 1: That would be stupid. He knew the
difference between comic books and real life.

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Speaker 1: In comic books, the bad guys always
talked until the hero was ready to fight. The

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Speaker 1: King wasn't like that. Real bad guys
weren't like that. They just killed

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Speaker 1: you, like they killed Sub and Big
Derrick and Nozzle

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Speaker 1: and everyone else. Most of the time,
they killed you just because they could,

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Speaker 1: just because you were there.

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Speaker 1: They turned a corner and Fleabag saw
a ton of guards at the end of the street, a

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Speaker 1: scary boy too. At least the scary
boys wouldn't kill you for no reason. He

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Speaker 1: glanced back at the wagon, but they
might if they saw Holy Man here.

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Speaker 3: We're here, but there's like a butt
load of bad guys blocking the way.

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Speaker 2: Can you find another way?

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Speaker 3: No. Oh, crap. They see me.

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Speaker 1: A few of the guards pointed at him.
Fleabag froze. This was it. They were gonna pull

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Speaker 1: off that blanket and he was done for.
No. No, he couldn't act like that. He

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Speaker 1: was a sidekick. He had to be smart,
at least until he could find the magic women and

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Speaker 1: get his own powers. Fleabag looked at
the adults gathered around him in a loose

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Speaker 1: circle.

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Speaker 3: Hey, you all want to be in a club,
right? That means you have to help too. Go

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Speaker 3: distract those guys so we can sneak
past.

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Speaker 1: A man in a gray trench coat stepped
closer to him, whispering so the guards who were

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Speaker 1: already talking to people wouldn't
hear. Where do we meet after? Fleabag

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Speaker 1: rolled his eyes. Did he have to come
up with everything?

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Speaker 3: He'll give a sermon at sundown.

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Speaker 1: That was his thing, right? It must be
how he recharged his power. The man in the

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Speaker 1: coat nodded once, then fell to the
ground screaming, rolling around and clutching
at

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Speaker 1: his leg. It was a pretty good job.
Nozzle would've been proud. No one could cry
like

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Speaker 1: Nozzle. While the man howled, Fleabag
snuck behind the group of people. They grouped

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Speaker 1: up to block the guards' view. Maybe
they weren't useless after all. Fleabag strolled

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Speaker 1: right past the guards and into the
shantytown.

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Speaker 1: A hand fell on his shoulder.

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Speaker 1: Where do you think you're going? The
woman spun him around by the shoulder. She was

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Speaker 1: a Scary Boy, which never made much
sense to him. Why shouldn't she be a Scary Girl?

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Speaker 1: Paradise is closed to outsiders right
now.

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Speaker 3: I can pay.

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Speaker 1: Doesn't matter. She shoved him
backward, and he fell against the wagon. What
are you

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Speaker 1: hauling? Fleabag backed away slowly,
palms sweating. What was he supposed to do?

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Speaker 1: What could he do? This wasn't some
sewer dweller. She had demon blood.

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Speaker 1: The Scary Boy stared at the wagon and
tilted her head. I know that smell.

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Speaker 1: She reached out a hand to pull the
blanket off the wagon. If that happened ... A

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Speaker 1: man in a gray trench coat slammed
into the Scary Boy and the two of them crashed
to

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Speaker 1: the ground. [thudding]

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Speaker 2: It hurts. [groans]

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Speaker 1: Fleabag pulled the wagon as fast as
he could, not daring to look back. He heard the

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Speaker 1: screaming, though. He raced into the
shantytown and took a turn down an alley, then

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Speaker 1: another, and another. Then he
squatted down and closed his ears so

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Speaker 1: he wouldn't have to hear the screams
anymore. He cradled his legs and pressed his

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Speaker 1: back to the side of a building.

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Speaker 1: The lump in the wagon sat up [fabric
rustling] and the blanket slipped off of Holy

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Speaker 1: Man.

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Speaker 3: They'll kill him for that.

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Speaker 1: Holy Man didn't correct him. He just
looked sadly in the direction of the commotion.

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Speaker 1: Fleabag took his hands off his ears.

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Speaker 2: Not all heroes have powers, Fleabag.

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Speaker 3: The ones who survive do.

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Speaker 1: Fleabag wiped his eyes and stood up.
Some sidekick he was.

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Speaker 3: [sniffs] I'm fine. We gotta go.

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Speaker 1: Then he grabbed the wagon's handle
and hurried through the maze of buildings.

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Speaker 1: [gentle music]

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Speaker 1: [people chattering] Turn after turn,
Ethan watched the dizzying journey through the

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Speaker 1: crowded shantytown from a lifted
corner of his blanket. Makeshift homes of
plywood,

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Speaker 1: plastic tarps, and even cardboard
covered the sidewalks outside the original old
LA

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Speaker 1: buildings. He was amazed at how many
people were living here. It was

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Speaker 1: impossible to estimate without
knowing the full size of the town, but from what
he'd

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Speaker 1: seen already, it was more than a few
thousand. What did they eat? How did they

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Speaker 1: defend themselves? He'd known that
people still scraped by in the outskirts, but

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Speaker 1: this was nearly a civilization, which
made it all the more disheartening.

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Speaker 1: This was the pinnacle of
civilization, and it was pathetic. The

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Speaker 1: people were universally filthy and
malnourished, and they all shared the same

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Speaker 1: frightful, distrusting demeanor, as
if their neighbors in the cardboard house next

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Speaker 1: door might take their meager
belongings at any moment.

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Speaker 1: Though a few people tried to haggle
with Fleabag for his wagon, no one tried to take

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Speaker 1: it from him. Perhaps the low growl
emanating from it may have helped discourage

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Speaker 1: them. The weaponsmith's workshop
turned out to be in one of the solid old Los

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Speaker 1: Angeles buildings, a single-story
brick building with bars over the windows. The

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Speaker 1: paint had long since peeled from the
exterior.

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Speaker 1: [metal clanging] Ethan had a great
view of the

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Speaker 1: dusty wood paneling on the front
counter. He could hear men and women at work,

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Speaker 1: striking metal, the smell of ash in
the air. Got some scrap?

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Speaker 3: Yeah. I wanna see Dumpit, though.

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Speaker 1: He's busy. You can deal with me.

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Speaker 3: It's militech, and I know where
there's more.

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Speaker 1: [scoffs] Come on back if your story
wears thin.

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Speaker 1: I'm taking this wagon. Fleabag
wheeled the wagon through the building, most of
which

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Speaker 1: had been torn apart to make space for
the various workbenches and furnaces there.

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Speaker 1: People cut, hammered, and melted
strips of metal. Whatever they were doing, they

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Speaker 1: were doing a lot of it. Here he is.

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Speaker 2: All right, let's see what we've got
here.

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Speaker 1: The blanket was pulled off the wagon.
[blanket rustling] Ethan looked up at an

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Speaker 1: impressively fat man, considering the
state of the people he'd seen so far.

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Speaker 2: [whistles] Holy dog farts in heaven.

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Speaker 2: [footsteps]

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Speaker 3: Can you fix him?

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Speaker 2: Fix him? I'd shake your hand, but
[laughs] you'd have to do all the work. It

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Speaker 2: talks.

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Speaker 3: This is Holy Man. He's a superhero.

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Speaker 1: Ethan didn't feel the need to
disabuse Fleabag. It seemed like one thing too
many to

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Speaker 1: take from the boy. He'd already
seemed to have forgotten the violence from just
a

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Speaker 1: few minutes ago. He was a resilient
kid, resourceful too. Ethan

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Speaker 1: guessed you had to be to survive out
here.

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Speaker 2: What are you? Pastor Ethan Cutter,
Hail Mary prototype

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Speaker 1: Cyborg. And you?

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Speaker 2: Name's Dumpit.

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Speaker 1: The man's name was Dumpit? That did
not bode well.

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Speaker 1: Dumpit hobbled over and gingerly
picked up one of Ethan's severed arms out of the

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Speaker 1: wagon. He was missing a foot of his
own, replaced with what looked like a fireplace

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Speaker 1: poker. Fleabag, are you sure there's
no one else?

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Speaker 2: Hold on now. Duchin got one thing
right. There ain't nothing I can't fix.

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Speaker 2: Usually my projects don't talk back,
but I can make an exception.

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Speaker 1: Dumpit set the arm back in the wagon
and put his hands on his wide hips. His stomach

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Speaker 1: sagged out from beneath a stained
white T-shirt.

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Speaker 2: These are toast. So what, you want
some chainsaw arms or something?

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Speaker 1: Ethan saw Fleabag put his hands on
the side of his face and his mouth dropped open.

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Speaker 1: Can you do that?

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Speaker 2: Sure, I can give him a matching foot
too.

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Speaker 1: Can't you just, you know, reattach
them? Dumpit squinted one eye and rubbed his

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Speaker 1: chin. Then he squatted down to take a
closer look, which seriously threatened the

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Speaker 1: integrity of his pants. Ethan's
second mind ran the strain calculations.

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Speaker 1: He just let it do its thing. It only
wanted to be helpful.

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Speaker 1: Tension forces exceed predicted pants
tensile strength. Further investigation

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Speaker 1: recommended.

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Speaker 1: That was not going to happen. Dumpit
picked up one of the arms.

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Speaker 2: Unlike the other one, this one has
most of the socket joint intact. The wires and

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Speaker 2: tubes are cut pretty clean as well. I
can make this work.

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Speaker 1: Maybe there was some hope after all.
The man was so lost in the project of fixing

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Speaker 1: him that he hadn't even asked about
payment. Perhaps the challenge was payment

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Speaker 1: enough.

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Speaker 2: So just one chainsaw arm then.

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Speaker 1: Ethan opened his mouth to answer, but
the sound of a siren in the distance cut him

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Speaker 1: off. Fleabag seemed to shrink into
the corner of the room reflexively.

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Speaker 1: Dumpit felt around at his hip for
something, then stumbled over to his cheap
wooden

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Speaker 1: desk with shaking hands. He pulled a
sawn-off shotgun from the top drawer.

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Speaker 1: What is that?

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Speaker 2: Reed. Damn. First some lunatic guns
down our boys, now this.

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Speaker 2: Sometimes I wonder if we missed the
Rapture by a couple decades.

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Speaker 1: There was a commotion throughout the
workshop. People raced around, donning

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Speaker 1: makeshift armor, lifting
crude-looking weapons. Dumpit opened his office
door to

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Speaker 1: join them, then looked down at Ethan
in the wagon.

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Speaker 2: It's a shame you can't fight.

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Speaker 1: Ethan narrowed his eyes and lifted
his chin toward Dumpit's false foot. How fast

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Speaker 1: can you give me one of those? Dumpit
grinned a piano key grin.

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Speaker 2: [laughs] I think we're gonna get
along just fine, Holy Man.

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Speaker 2: Now hold still so I can get this in
straight. Don't want you stumbling around when

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Speaker 2: those crucifer bastards charge you.

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Speaker 1: A moment later, Ethan got to his
feet, testing out his balance on the iron point
of

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Speaker 1: his new foot. A new mod icon appeared
in his HUD, The Foot

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Speaker 1: Skewer. Ethan flashed his own wild
grin.

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Speaker 2: Looks like it's time to get medieval.

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Speaker 2: [rock music]

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Speaker 1: Part seven, Hail to the King.

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Speaker 1: Dumpit finished strapping the spear
to the side of Holy Man. What a name that was.

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Speaker 1: Not that he was one to talk. He'd
been born Randall Goodman. But Randall

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Speaker 1: Goodman died 30 years ago. Dumpit had
survived though, and he was gonna

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Speaker 1: survive today too. Holy Man sneered
with perfect white teeth. The dark

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Speaker 1: stubble of a beard framed his
perfect, powerful chin. Like Dumpit, this man

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Speaker 1: had been remade, though he'd been
made with much more patience, resources, and a

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Speaker 1: hell of a lot more technology. Old
world tech. Not even. Comic book

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Speaker 1: tech.

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Speaker 2: Now, you're sure you don't want a
chainsaw arm instead?

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Speaker 1: Why would I want a chainsaw arm?

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Speaker 2: Why would you not?

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Speaker 1: The sounds of fighting could be heard
down the street. The Forge warriors were

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Speaker 1: streaming out to reinforce. Dumpit
should already be out there, but this important

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Speaker 1: matter needed to be settled first.
It's loud, unwieldy, and requires fuel,

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Speaker 1: and if the chain breaks, it becomes
little more than a noisemaker. Dumpit shook his

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Speaker 1: head with deep disappointment. Some
things you just couldn't teach.

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Speaker 2: Fine. Move around a little. Let's see
if it holds.

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Speaker 1: Holy Man looked down at the sharpened
rebar spear strapped to one shoulder, and then

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Speaker 1: at the sheet of metal duct taped to
the other for a makeshift shield. Then he jumped

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Speaker 1: six feet straight up into the air.
When he landed, the fireplace poker punched
right

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Speaker 1: through the concrete floor. He pulled
it free, scattering little bits of concrete

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Speaker 1: across the room. The makeshift
weaponry held fast. Dumpit slapped the

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Speaker 1: sawn-off barrel into his open palm
and laughed.

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Speaker 2: Boy, you are gonna tear him a new
one.

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Speaker 1: Holy Man narrowed his eyes. I'll tear
them three.

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Speaker 1: [laughs] And to think, this weapon
just showed up on his doorstep.

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Speaker 1: Unbelievable fortune. Sometimes the
Lost God still worked his miracles,

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Speaker 1: apparently Hell, Dumpit might even
say a prayer or two if he lived. That seemed
like

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Speaker 1: a fair trade. As he walked out of the
forge, he shielded his face from the burning

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Speaker 1: sun and squinted one eye up at the
pale blue sky.

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Speaker 2: You hear that, big guy? Time to start
making yourself useful.

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Speaker 1: Ethan stepped out of the forge to
find a defensive line of Crucifer acolytes, nine

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Speaker 1: sweating, bloody young men. Bodies
from both sides already lay on the dusty,

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Speaker 1: broken asphalt between them. Ethan
could hear more sounds of fighting on the next

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Speaker 1: street over. It was impossible to
tell how big the raid party was, which he
supposed

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Speaker 1: was probably the point. Dumpit looked
over his shoulder and hissed at Ethan.

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Speaker 2: Let's circle back around and make a
sandwich.

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Speaker 1: The man was already overweight in a
place where that was a crime against humanity.

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Speaker 2: You sure it's a good time for that?
Get them from behind, I mean.

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Speaker 1: Both the sandwich and the attack were
immediately off the table, however, because

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Speaker 1: the fighting from the next street
stopped and another group of raiders turned the

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Speaker 1: corner behind them. 11 more Crucifer
acolytes and

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Speaker 1: one grafted.

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Speaker 2: Ah, pig feathers. Now we're screwed.

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Speaker 1: The two groups of raiders boxed them
in. Ethan jabbed a spear at one of them. The

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Speaker 1: man must have thought it was a feint
because he died with a cocky smile still on his

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Speaker 1: face. Their advance halted there. The
six uninjured forge workers, Dumpit,

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Speaker 1: and Ethan pressed against each other
back to back. Wait, where

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Speaker 1: was Fleabag?

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Speaker 1: Pastor Cutter smashed into the line
of smirking acolytes with his makeshift plate

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Speaker 1: iron shield. They scattered before
him, allowing the rampaging cyborg

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Speaker 1: through the line.

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Speaker 2: Where's the boy?

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Speaker 1: His second mind pinged him.

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Speaker 2: Overclock.

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Speaker 1: Time crawled nearly to a stop while
he reviewed 10 seconds of footage caught from

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Speaker 1: his peripheral vision just moments
before. Five women in rags

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Speaker 1: pulled a young boy from the forge
building. He was kicking and screaming,

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Speaker 1: screaming for Ethan.

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Speaker 2: Why didn't you tell me sooner?

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Speaker 1: His second mind did not respond. It
didn't operate on emotion like his human

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Speaker 1: mind. He was lucky a computer even
considered notifying him at all. It

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Speaker 1: wasn't part of his mission. In all
actuality, he had no

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Speaker 1: reason to care for the boy at all. He
was one such soul among

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Speaker 1: thousands like him, children of war.
Why was this one any

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Speaker 1: different? His second mind could not
answer that question,

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Speaker 1: but his first mind didn't even care.
It mattered that he

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Speaker 1: lived. It mattered that he was okay.
He replayed the

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Speaker 1: footage one more time, freezing on a
frame where Fleabag reached out one

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Speaker 1: last time before he went out of
sight, mouthing the word,

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Speaker 1: "Please."

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Speaker 1: He released the overclock and rammed
his spear through the sides of three acolytes,

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Speaker 1: but he didn't stop running. He pushed
until the entire line of soldiers on one side

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Speaker 1: was either skewered on his spear,
trampled beneath their combined mass, or knocked

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Speaker 1: aside.

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Speaker 1: Then he slammed the spear and all the
people impaled on it into the side of the

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Speaker 1: forge building.

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Speaker 1: The spear stuck in the wall, leaving
the corpses to hang in place like a shish

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Speaker 1: kebab.

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Speaker 1: When he tried to rip the spear out,
it tore free from the strap on his shoulder

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Speaker 1: instead, making it look like he
intended to leave those victims there as a
symbol.

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Speaker 1: Ethan spun and faced the new line of
soldiers, who were now a good 10

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Speaker 1: feet further back.

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Speaker 2: Where do you take the children?

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Speaker 1: The remaining acolytes, no longer
grinning with confidence, parted to let the

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Speaker 1: grafted step forward.

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Speaker 1: He stood almost a foot taller than
anyone else. His lower jaw had been replaced by

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Speaker 1: a thick piece of stainless steel. His
arms from the elbow down had been replaced

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Speaker 1: by two enormous axes which dripped
with red liquid.

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Speaker 1: The grafted were Crucifer's most
elite, most insane warriors.

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Speaker 1: If this man could even talk, he
wouldn't be of much help. Well, Ethan would

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Speaker 1: just have to make him talk. He
charged the grafted with his shield raised.

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Speaker 1: He would pummel him to the ground and
break every bone in his body. He

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Speaker 1: would... The grafted split the
makeshift shield with one ax, then slammed the

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Speaker 1: haft of the other into Ethan's thigh.
He went down without even uttering a harsh

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Speaker 1: word.

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Speaker 2: Overclock.

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Speaker 1: Which only gave him more time to
consider the steel boot plummeting toward his
face.

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Speaker 1: There was no time to dodge.
Overclocking gave him time to think. It didn't
give

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Speaker 1: him time to move faster. His second
mind chirped. Yes,

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Speaker 1: this steel boot could do potentially
lethal damage to his human brain. At best,

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Speaker 1: he would be unconscious, and that
would be just as lethal. So

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Speaker 1: he did the only thing he could. He
sent one last

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Speaker 1: message on the radio transmitter he
didn't even know he

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Speaker 1: had. Fern,

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Speaker 1: detonate me.

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Speaker 1: Four dozen people sat around an
abandoned church just outside of Paradise. Rusty

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Speaker 1: watched as still more filed into the
tiny building. Maybe he should have gone to a

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Speaker 1: bigger place. He rubbed at his jaw.
It was definitely broken,

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Speaker 1: fractured. Maybe the preacher knew
some God magic to fix that. Or robot

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00:25:58.516 --> 00:26:04.096
Speaker 1: magic. Either worked. Rusty wasn't
too particular. Someone started chanting.

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Speaker 1: We want the show! But no one else
picked up the chant. It was sundown,

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Speaker 1: right? Was this the right place?
Well, no one had told him a place. He got

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Speaker 1: up and looked out a window. It was
past sundown. He cursed inwardly. Hopefully

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Speaker 1: no one got eaten for this. He sensed
everyone's shared restlessness. Their

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Speaker 1: shared hope. Maybe the preacher was
busy. If he was busy,

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Speaker 1: he was probably busy saving their
bacon, one way or another. Rusty grumbled.

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Speaker 1: Nothing for it, then. He'd have to
give this evening's sermon at

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Speaker 1: sundown himself. So he walked up to
the podium and rubbed at his aching

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Speaker 1: jaw. That scary boy had decked him
good. But it also seemed like she'd

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Speaker 1: pulled the punch. A little. Maybe it
wasn't too late to get her house number.

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Speaker 1: Rusty cleared his throat and let his
gray jacket spread out behind him in what he

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Speaker 1: hoped was a really cool way. Quiet
down now, y'all. The

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Speaker 1: holy man is off fighting some
monsters on our behalf. Until he comes

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Speaker 1: back, y'all gonna have to make do
with me. To his surprise, they quieted

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Speaker 1: down. More surprising still was the
soft, shimmering glow at the edges

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Speaker 1: of the room. It was hard to see if
you looked right at it. It looked almost

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Speaker 1: like the air rising off asphalt on a
summer day. It was almost

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Speaker 1: like power. Rusty grinned.

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Speaker 1: Perhaps a little of that robot magic
had rubbed off on him after all.