Mortal Steel Pilot: Episode 1
Source: collected/023-mortal-steel-pilot-episode-1.mp3
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Model: scribe_v2 | Transcribed: 2026-10-10T18:15:15.498680+00:00
Machine transcript — uncorrected. Speaker labels are local to this recording and do not identify people.

[00:00:00.000] Speaker 1: [rock music]

[00:00:07.060] Speaker 1: Mortal

[00:00:52.180] Speaker 1: Steel. Prologue: Unmaking. Six months ago. Gabriel Kline waited for the people on the other end of the video call to die. Everyone still with him in the conference room averted their eyes, but not Gabriel. Gabriel stared directly into the eyes of a doomed man. Professor Saitama did not turn away from the camera as people piled furniture against the doors in the video behind him.

[00:01:25.280] Speaker 2: We are releasing everything we worked on. Please do not judge us harshly for what you find.

[00:01:33.460] Speaker 1: "It is not my judgment you should fear." Something collided with the doors in Saitama's conference room, causing their makeshift furniture barricade to shudder. People screamed and spoke hurriedly in Japanese. Saitama's gaze did not waver, though, and neither did Gabriel's. He would not miss a moment of this magnificent man's life.

[00:02:01.120] Speaker 2: Should I beg forgiveness then?

[00:02:03.460] Speaker 1: "It couldn't hurt, old friend." Someone started sobbing next to Gabriel, and he put his hand out for them to hold. Marie gripped the hand tightly, as if she could prevent the Japanese team's fate simply by holding on tight enough. Something hit the door again hard enough to scatter the barricade. People hurried to rebuild it, but it was futile. A long, pale snout pushed through the buckling barricade. More people braced the door itself. An inhuman hand with sagging

[00:02:38.540] Speaker 1: pale skin and only three fingers slid through the opening crack. Still the Japanese team braced the door with as many people as could fit around it. The creature raked its dagger claws across the women and men bracing the door until none could hold it any longer. Tears streamed down Gabriel's face, but still he watched as the demons tore the door from its hinges and ripped into the people on the video feed. Nightmarish creatures with impossible proportions, like tall dogs

[00:03:13.560] Speaker 1: with reverse joints, sagging skin, and no hair. Professor Saitama stared forward into the camera, chin held high, awaiting his fate.

[00:03:24.880] Speaker 2: Arigato, Gabriel.

[00:03:28.200] Speaker 1: Mercifully, the other man cut the video feed just as the massacre began. Gabriel Kline stared at the black screen where his friend's face had been just moments before. A living, breathing, wonderful man and his dedicated team of selfless heroes, torn apart for the crime of existing. Gabriel placed a hand on the black screen and bowed his head, letting the warm tears patter down onto his robes. "Arigato, Saitama." Pastor

[00:04:02.960] Speaker 1: Ethan Cutter was wheeled down the hallway of the Advanced Clinic, the only such building in Last Respite, one of the three remaining human strongholds in the old Los Angeles area. It differed from the other clinics in Last Respite. Those were hot, cramped buildings packed with people too sick to cure, too injured to heal. If you went to a clinic, you usually went there to die. The Advanced Clinic, in stark contrast, was the pinnacle of human achievement. It was the place you went to become something greater. But like the other clinics, it was a

[00:04:37.900] Speaker 1: place you usually went to die. Ethan told himself he was prepared to die. He'd told everyone else that at every step along the way. But as they prepped him for surgery, he found that he was actually terrified. Maybe it wasn't too late to back out. Dr. Marie Singer glanced at a rapidly beeping machine. "Your heart rate's rising." "What can I expect here, Doc?" She smiled reassuringly and held his hand as they wheeled his gurney into the operating room. "Oh, this'll be easier than any of

[00:05:12.860] Speaker 1: your training until now. This step is on us. We'll take good care of you." Just like they'd taken care of the first three candidates before him, the ones that had died on the operating room floor. He wasn't supposed to know about that, but people talked. Dr. Singer glanced at his vitals again and frowned. "Ethan. Can I call you Ethan?" "Yes." "Ethan, you need to calm down." "I just need to know what to expect." She

[00:05:47.580] Speaker 1: pursed her lips, clearly uncomfortable with talking about the next step. Ethan knew in the abstract what was happening, of course. He'd signed up for it, after all. But he needed to know. If he knew, he could face it. All of which was ridiculous, of course, because he'd be unconscious for it. Somehow it still mattered to him. The doors to the operating room slammed closed with finality. There was the sound of an air seal, and then all of them were bathed in an antiseptic mist. Dr. Singer waited until the

[00:06:22.356] Speaker 1: mist stopped to speak. We're going to make you into something better. You will still be you, just more. In order to do that, first we have to unmake you. There is no better word for this. The first two-thirds of the operation will be removing body parts and keeping you stable. It's a delicate balance between working fast enough to keep you alive and working slow enough to not make any errors. Ethan turned away from the surgeon and stared

[00:06:57.196] Speaker 1: straight up at the ceiling. That was all he needed to hear. A mission. He gave that mission a singular focus. Hmm. Heart rate's falling. She leaned over him and placed an oxygen mask on his face. Dr. Singer held his hand again and squeezed tight. She dropped the reassuring smile, which must have been effective on children, and gave him a serious, humorless gaze instead, searching his face with those intelligent dark brown eyes. Ethan felt the

[00:07:31.476] Speaker 1: anesthesia start to kick in. Will you fight for me, Ethan? For all of us? Yes. I will fight. And then the world faded into nothing, and his fight began. Part one. The Messenger. Six months later. Pastor Ethan Cutter, ordained minister and cyborg, waited outside the Archbishop's office

[00:08:06.556] Speaker 1: door, his face four and two-quarter inches from the wood. The wood was an old-world hardwood with a synthetic lacquer. It had an approximate breaching strength of zero point four tons. Ethan shook his head to clear the simulations for suggested breaching points. Just a moment. Just a moment. An elderly man in ornate red robes opened the door and smiled up at Ethan. Sorry for the wait. It's a chore just to get up at my age. He turned and walked back into his office, leaving the

[00:08:41.476] Speaker 1: door open for Ethan to follow him. I don't suppose you have that problem, though, do you? Negative. Ethan winced at his own words. No, sir. Archbishop Gabriel Klein collapsed into his large office chair behind his desk and gave Ethan a look of undisguised exhaustion. Do you even sleep? Ethan moved into the room, ignoring the fourteen yellow warning marks that flashed around the room on his HUD, warning him of potential dangers like hidden

[00:09:16.156] Speaker 1: weapons or secret entrances. Sometimes. Not like I used to. The Archbishop motioned for him to have a seat. Ethan didn't know how to tell the man that he didn't need to, that his titanium joints experienced no strain from standing, that even if he did feel discomfort, he could simply turn it off. Please, sit. Yes, sir. Ethan sat down without even considering it. That unnerved him. Had he chosen to sit? More

[00:09:50.856] Speaker 1: importantly, could he have chosen not to? Yes, he could still choose. The Archbishop folded his hands and watched him carefully. His skin showed early signs of melanoma, most of it benign, but the spot on his neck was ninety-four percent likely to be malignant and growing. The outlook, considering his age and other cursory data, was not good. You have skin cancer. The Archbishop's eyebrows went up. Then he spun in his office chair and looked out the window behind him.

[00:10:26.516] Speaker 1: It wasn't a real window. Windows were defensive weak points. It was a real-time video feed of the view from the other side of the four-foot concrete and steel wall, and that served the purpose for his thoughtful stare. I'll consider myself lucky to die of skin cancer. The electronic part of Ethan's mind didn't really know what to do with statements like that. It started searching for old movie and TV quotes and feeding him ideas. It liked those one-liners for some reason. He shoved the unwanted

[00:11:01.496] Speaker 1: information away. He did that a lot lately. This was something he could handle himself. What's wrong? Archbishop Klein looked over his shoulder and gave him a weak smile. We're living on borrowed time, Cutter. All of us. When the strongholds in Mexico finally fall, they'll circle back north to clean us up. And that's all it will be. Cleanup. Ethan let the words hang dramatically between them for just a moment. There was more

[00:11:36.536] Speaker 1: here. Klein wasn't the type to lay down and die. Unless... Unless we do something drastic. Archbishop Klein turned all the way around and met Ethan's eyes. He started to speak, but hesitated. I'm not ready to reveal the full extent of that plan. I would probably be killed if I did. Not even to me? Klein let out a short, Especially to you. Four months ago, Pastor Ethan

[00:12:11.544] Speaker 1: Cutter had awoken from his coma just hours before they started disassembling him. They'd given up on his recovery and were repurposing the parts for the next candidate. Despite his miraculous recovery and the ultimate success of the Hail Mary project, they had not warmed much toward him since then. In truth, the leadership of the advanced clinic had considered dismantling him four separate times. He wasn't supposed to know that, but keeping his second mind from rifling through unprotected data was like

[00:12:46.404] Speaker 1: keeping a hungry dog from its food. "But you don't need to know my entire plan to do your part in it." Archbishop Klein absentmindedly touched the spot on his neck, then abruptly stood and straightened his robe, straightened his back, lifted his chin, and narrowed his eyes. "I'm letting you out of your cage, Ethan. Are you ready to kill some goddamn demons?" Both halves of Pastor Ethan Cutter's mind were in complete

[00:13:21.264] Speaker 1: alignment on his answer. For the first time since he woke, all of him wanted the same thing. "Yes, sir." "Good. Now go." The archbishop nodded once and waved in dismissal. Ethan spun his right hand like a drill bit, then clenched the fist and stepped into the hallway. He looked back over his shoulder at the archbishop. "I'll give 'em heaven." The conference room was

[00:13:55.844] Speaker 1: standing room only today. Gabriel didn't often leave his post at the advanced clinic. They had teleconferencing, after all. But this emergency meeting necessitated the leaders of the Last Respite Holy Military Base meet in person. Somehow, the practice of meetings had survived the apocalypse. Figures. Meetings, like cockroaches, could never truly die. Archbishop Lucius, Chair of Public Communications, was standing and

[00:14:31.124] Speaker 1: screaming, like usual. He pointed an accusing finger at the seated Gabriel. "You let it out?" "He has access to only thirty percent of the designed weapon systems." "It's an abomination. Who knows what the Japanese hid in that tech?" Gabriel ignored both lines of argument. This wasn't about public safety or blasphemy or espionage. What would the now deceased Japanese research team hide anyway?

[00:15:06.164] Speaker 1: Professor Saitama had been honorable and faithful to their shared cause until the very end. Gabriel felt that it was sometimes better to let a friend stab you in the back, to fully trust some people and simply hope for the best rather than live in paranoia. Lucius was not one of those people. "He hasn't hurt anyone." "Yet. What about that incident at the firing range?" Gabriel ground his teeth.

[00:15:40.484] Speaker 1: "If the bar for technology is perfection, we will never make another advance. Perhaps we should fight the demons with reliable sharpened sticks, Lucius." "Don't mock me." "Gentlemen, please." Bishop Erica Long, ever the mediator, raised her hands between them. The rest of the room was remarkably quiet. The other factions in the church seemed content to let these two duke it out. Erica leveled a

[00:16:15.124] Speaker 1: serious gaze at Gabriel. "You released an experimental and dangerous prototype into an encampment of civilians. We at least deserve an explanation." Gabriel ignored the self-satisfied look on Lucius' face. He took a deep breath. How to convincingly reveal just the tip of the plan. "There is a possessed in the outskirts known as Stalker, a former priest." A

[00:16:50.144] Speaker 1: wave of uncomfortable muttering went through the assembly. This was a sore topic. The rebel priest had been well-liked until he'd taken a demon into his heart and set himself up as a leader in the outskirts surrounding Last Respite. Old Los Angeles had been a populous place thirty years ago. Not everyone could fit inside this fortification. Not even close. "I've sent Pastor Cutter to find him, and if he can, kill him."

[00:17:23.304] Speaker 1: "What?" Lucius slammed his hands on the table, and the room fell into disorder as people fought to speak. Bishop Erica was unable to bring order to the room. Gabriel ignored the lobbed insults and waited, seated patiently in his chair until the room calmed enough to speak again. "The Stalker has a psychic link back to the southern demonic horde. He's feeding information to them. If we intend to survive the year, we need to sever that line of communication."

[00:17:59.264] Speaker 1: Lucius' face was a deep red. He was about to start another tirade when Erica spoke first. "You should have spoken to us first, Gabriel." Gabriel tried his best to look apologetic. If he had spoken to them first, it would have taken a week to drag every leader into the same room, assuming that they would even approve his mission. He'd accomplished the same outcome here, and much quicker, if a little more heated. But I agree with the strategy. You

[00:18:34.332] Speaker 1: can't be serious, Erica. It's worth the attempt, Lucius. Besides, if he fails, the Hail Mary prototype will be destroyed in the process. Lucius seemed mollified by that. He was a hothead, but not an idiot. Either way, he would gain something. He wanted to see the cyborg project killed. Bishop Erica Long turned to Gabriel again, and she raised her voice as if to speak for the entire room. Let's see what your pet project can do. It walks a

[00:19:08.852] Speaker 1: dangerous line with blasphemy, though. But it's either this or we ask New Hope or Crucifer for help. Lucius' face darkened at the mention of the rival denominations, only a shade lighter than the demons themselves in his eyes. And just like that, he was sold on the plan. Do you have the detonator, Gabriel? Gabriel nodded once. Give it to me. He hesitated, but knew

[00:19:43.952] Speaker 1: he'd lose this one. He'd already used up all his political capital on this earlier stunt. So he fished the detonator remote out of his pants pocket from beneath his robes and put it in Bishop Erica's outstretched hand. If he goes rogue or doesn't report in or lays a single hand on an innocent, I will slag him. Unfortunately, she had the power to do that. They could monitor everything he saw and did through his eyes,

[00:20:18.292] Speaker 1: unbeknownst to him. Gabriel would just have to hope that the cyborg didn't have another accident. He looked around the room. Every one of his peers had the same look of resolve on their faces. This was the outcome they all expected. I understand. Pastor Cutter stood in the armory amidst the hum of activity. For

[00:20:53.152] Speaker 1: reasons he didn't understand, he was given only thirty minutes to prepare for this mission. Given its apparent importance, that didn't make much sense. But he found it physically difficult to question orders. So he waited patiently as women prodded and adjusted the thousands of parts that made up his new body. They were all women, wearing identical black and white robes with simple headdresses. Nuns. Half a dozen hands pulled on him, filling internal containers with unidentified

[00:21:27.692] Speaker 1: liquids, running last-minute diagnostics. Meanwhile, the table in front of him was being covered with a selection of external equipment. There was no way he could carry it all, so he was already making a mental inventory of the pieces he knew he wanted. Without asking, that inventory was being tracked in a list on his HUD. Even after four months living with the second mind bolted on, its capabilities, however mundane, still surprised him. It seemed like the Japanese had thought of everything.

[00:22:02.672] Speaker 1: Ethan picked up the first item on the list, marked high priority. It was a comically large handgun, jet black with silver ornamentation. Silver crosses marked the sides of the gun's grip with another thin silver cross on the top for iron sights. He turned it around in his right hand. The weight felt right. Just six months ago, he'd have to fire this weapon from a seated position just to stay upright from the recoil. The nun still laying equipment on the table

[00:22:37.292] Speaker 1: paused when she saw him pick up the gun. You like that? That's my personal handiwork. It fires custom silver lead ammunition. You could take down a T-Rex with that. Does it have a name? A name? It's just a gun. Ethan narrowed his eyes. Not in my hands. All right. What's its name then? Ethan responded without hesitation. The Messenger. Even though it

[00:23:12.272] Speaker 1: was his first time holding the weapon, he placed it in his hip holster with practiced precision. The gun was so long it spanned from his hip almost down to his knee. What's your name? Sister Fran. Nice to meet you, Sister Fran. Oh, we've met before, number four. We have? Of course. You were asleep, but we've been there since the beginning. Who do you think keeps you running? It's us. Ethan looked around at the

[00:23:47.192] Speaker 1: nuns working around him. People staring at computer screens with cables running directly into his body. People muttering to each other in hushed, serious conversations as they pointed at numbers on a larger screen above him. He recognized one of the nuns. The surgeon, Marie. The last person he saw before the anesthesia kicked in. He turned his focus back to Sister Fran. Thank you "You're welcome. Try not to get too beat up. Every bullet hole is more work for us. Now hold still."

[00:24:22.456] Speaker 1: She smiled gently and lifted his left arm. A valve opened in his wrist and Sister Fran began carefully pouring liquid into the hole, her face a mask of focus. Perhaps this was holy water. It would be good to have some on hand in case he actually found the possessed man today. It was a solid defense against psychic intrusion and could ward off lesser demonic creatures. "Is this the holy water?" "Hmm? Water?" "Yes. Did you bless the water?" Fran looked

[00:24:57.256] Speaker 1: around at her co-workers as if there were some mistake. "Sir, we blessed the napalm." A wide grin spread across Ethan's face. "I like you, Fran." A red light flashed above Ethan and the nuns hurried over to him to start unplugging cables and sealing valves. Once they were done, he looked like a regular human being again. Almost. "We're out of time. You need to move." Ethan nodded. Two nuns started pushing open the heavy steel

[00:25:32.176] Speaker 1: door, leaning on the door with all their weight as they walked. The other dozen or so nuns stood in a loose group around him, parting just enough so he could leave. They stopped looking at monitors, stopped adjusting machines. They had dark circles under their eyes. Each of them was covered in grease and sweating through their heavy robes. And yet, they were all smiling. He might never know the debt he owed these people. He didn't even know most of their names. Sister Fran gave him a thumbs

[00:26:07.236] Speaker 1: up. "God go with you." Then she rushed over to the table, still loaded with equipment he couldn't reasonably carry, and handed him a pair of grenades. "But, just in case, take these too." Ethan gave the group a sharp nod of thanks, then started toward the doorway, bright with light from the outside world. The forty-foot concrete walls surrounding Last Respite came slowly into view as he walked out of the advanced clinic. What was left of humanity withered and died

[00:26:42.096] Speaker 1: outside those walls. The outskirts were a lawless hellscape where the strong made the rules and the weak got trampled. The apocalypse had come and gone here. This was just the fight to determine who would rule over the rubble. Today, he was finally going to get a say in whether that would be good, compassionate people, or literal demons. Truthfully, he didn't know whether he was an instrument of God's will or not, but he was an instrument of

[00:27:16.236] Speaker 1: retribution. A lot of prayers had gone unanswered in the last thirty years. Most of them he couldn't do anything about. But for those few who prayed for retribution, well, they were about to get their prayers answered.