Mortal Steel: Episode 7

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Mortal Steel: Episode 7
Source: collected/010-mortal-steel-episode-7.mp3
SHA-256: 9ace7b84b0940b2a3eda6ce8bce95ce997b72338b50b06601df3325d1d41f939
Model: scribe_v2 | Transcribed: 2026-10-10T18:10:06.481604+00:00
Machine transcript — uncorrected. Speaker labels are local to this recording and do not identify people.

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

[00:00:53.480] Speaker 1: Mortal Steel, episode seven. Pastor Ethan Cutter rolled his left arm around in his socket. It was a little stiff, but otherwise fully functional. Relief beyond reason flooded through him. He drew the messenger from his hip holster in a flash and dry fired it against six imaginary foes. Six imaginary kills. He dropped it back into his holster.

[00:01:29.260] Speaker 1: The only question now was, what was he going to punch first? That list of things to punch had grown very long since he lost his arms, and Ethan hated putting off such important work.

[00:01:47.420] Speaker 2: This was good work, Dumpit.

[00:01:49.700] Speaker 1: The man was turned away from Ethan, seated at his office desk, lost in some illustration. Ethan walked over to get a better look. The artwork was surprisingly skilled. In an instant, and without him asking to, his second mind began simulating what it saw on the page. Three hundred milliseconds later, Ethan stepped back out of the simulation, unable to keep the broad smile from his face. Dumpit finally noticed the cyborg standing over his shoulder.

[00:02:27.300] Speaker 2: Ah, it's just something I was cooking up. Probably won't work. I'm a dreamer.

[00:02:33.800] Speaker 1: Dumpit, this is a work of art. If you can build it, I can do more than make it work.

[00:02:40.420] Speaker 2: I can build it. Twenty hours is a tight window, but we can do it. Still, it's no chainsaw arm.

[00:02:48.680] Speaker 1: Ethan slapped the big man on the back. You're right. It's even better. [theme music] Part nine. Price of admission. Sister Francesca, former nun of Last Respite and now wastelands warrior, was not ready to get out of her sleeping bag. She heard the zipper on the tent next to her. It wasn't even dawn

[00:03:23.720] Speaker 1: yet. Dr. Marie Singer set about the noisy business of preparing tea anyway. Fran buried her head deeper into the sleeping bag. No, not yet. Couldn't she dream a little longer? These days, life was the nightmare and dreams were worth living. Spurred by the sounds of Marie's ritual, more sisters began exiting their tents around her. Go

[00:03:58.880] Speaker 1: back to sleep. This cork could not be put back in the bottle, however. Blasted nuns. They kept their morning rituals no matter what was happening. Fran reluctantly joined them a few minutes later. She wasn't going to be the last one out of bed. Dr. Singer handed her a paper cup of unadorned black tea. She knew she should be grateful for the finite supply. No one was growing

[00:04:33.780] Speaker 1: any more, after all, but found it difficult.

[00:04:38.380] Speaker 3: Good morning, Francesca. I see you're the last one awake. Did you enjoy your rest?

[00:04:45.400] Speaker 1: No.

[00:04:48.040] Speaker 3: It pains me to hear that.

[00:04:50.660] Speaker 1: Then the seven of them were quiet. They had set out with twelve, but there were only seven now. Francesca tried not to dwell on the moments of their deaths, which were each uniquely gruesome and painful, and preferred to look forward with hope. What hope she could manage, anyway. Mostly, she hoped to be back in civilization, preferably behind a meter of solid concrete. I'll sleep better when I have a reason to

[00:05:25.480] Speaker 1: believe I'll wake up again. Dr. Singer pressed her lips into a line. Why did people do that again? Maybe her tea was too hot. Maybe she was mad. People were always mad when Fran spoke, so that was a safe bet.

[00:05:42.300] Speaker 3: That's what we're all working toward. Perhaps today will be our day.

[00:05:48.420] Speaker 1: Fran surveyed the other sisters. Three of them, Hilda, Ursula, and Fran herself, had ditched their tunics and wimples entirely. Such a silly name for a headdress, wimple. At least it was fun to say. They wore something more akin to combat fatigues now. The other three, Temperance, Joelle, and Mary, still wore the full getup. Dr. Singer herself wore the tunic but not the wimple, leaving her long hair tied back in a neat ponytail, some kind of symbolic

[00:06:23.252] Speaker 1: compromise between the factions that had already formed in their order. Didn't take long either. The seven of them sat in a row, facing the wall and drinking their tea, waiting for some horrible porridge to be done cooking. It seemed cruel that she should have to smell it for so long before undertaking the task of eating it. Dr. Singer leaned forward and looked down the row.

[00:06:50.832] Speaker 3: Let's discuss battle formations one more time. Now hear me. Practice makes it automatic. You don't want to freeze up the next time some wretched creature finds us.

[00:07:04.272] Speaker 1: They each stood up and formed their new battle formation. It kept changing because they kept dying. The nuns practiced for half an hour before Dr. Singer finally called it quits and asked them all to break camp. She always asked because technically she was not their leader. She had been their boss, though, so it was a natural fit. Worked for Fran. Sticking her neck out even farther was the last thing she wanted to do. Actually, all she wanted to do was survive,

[00:07:39.832] Speaker 1: take a bath, and get back to work. In that order. Hopefully these New Hope people had plenty of circuits and servos for her to work on. Anything that didn't talk back would be fine, actually. Four hours later, they were sheltered under the overhang of an old movie theater. Not for water, or to hide from some unidentified sound as they had earlier. No, but to pray. To pray.

[00:08:15.472] Speaker 1: Francesca was as devout as any of these people, but there was a time and a place. If God was offering them any help, they wouldn't find it like this. So she kept a lookout instead, which was why she saw the humanoid first. Fran slapped at the ladies next to her without looking.

[00:08:36.532] Speaker 3: Hey, hey, hey, look.

[00:08:38.372] Speaker 1: They watched in silence as the humanoid walked down the center of the broken road, directly toward them. The body was covered in brown rags from head to toe, and something about the way it walked. It was not at all normal. They dipped far too low with each step, like a person who had started their exercise routine doing walking lunges and liked it so much they never stopped.

[00:09:09.692] Speaker 3: Battle formations.

[00:09:11.312] Speaker 1: In an instant, they were in their arrowhead formation, wooden bats, iron rebar, and tennis rackets in hand. Fran had to admit, they'd done it rather smoothly as well. Maybe this wasn't a complete waste of time. The rag person stopped ten feet shy of their group.

[00:09:30.352] Speaker 3: Greetings from New Hope. We received your message. You are welcome to follow me to safety.

[00:09:37.552] Speaker 1: The voice was poorly synthesized. A robot? It turned around and started its odd walk back in the direction it had come from.

[00:09:46.112] Speaker 3: Safe place safe.

[00:09:48.372] Speaker 1: Dr. Singer looked back at the rest of them from her place in the front. There was that same expression from earlier. Scared? Maybe it was scared. No one spoke, so Fran took the liberty.

[00:10:00.832] Speaker 3: Let's go already.

[00:10:04.332] Speaker 1: They followed the rag-covered robot from a healthy distance for about half a mile until it stopped on a platform set off to the side of the street. It looked like the entrance to one of those tunnels they dug under old LA to avoid vehicle traffic. If Fran was right, this was an elevator.

[00:10:24.751] Speaker 3: Stand on the spot for wonderful safety.

[00:10:29.312] Speaker 1: They all looked at each other, trying to find some consensus by the way their faces were situated, which was a pointlessly difficult way to do it. The robot spun its body above the hips in a complete circle, and a small jet of yellow sparks shot out from the rags.

[00:10:51.972] Speaker 3: It's good time safe.

[00:10:53.712] Speaker 1: Fran voiced what she suspected their faces were already saying.

[00:10:59.452] Speaker 3: This is a bad idea.

[00:11:02.232] Speaker 1: They nodded in turn and reformed the battle stance. Then the robot reached into an overgrown shrub and pulled out a metal rectangle with a large red button on it and pressed it. The platform began sinking into the ground.

[00:11:20.872] Speaker 3: Goodbye.

[00:11:22.432] Speaker 1: It was a bad idea, but bad ideas were relative at this point. Trying to survive in the city was guaranteed to kill them eventually. And this was the first creature to greet them with words instead of teeth. Hopefully, this safety would be as tasty as promised.

[00:11:43.852] Speaker 3: Oh, no you don't.

[00:11:45.912] Speaker 1: Fran ran for the elevator platform and dropped down the hole before it could get too far down. She landed hard on the steel floor. A moment later, two more people thudded down next to her. Dr. Singer and Ursula. Fran had always liked Ursula. She rarely spoke, and if she did, it was strictly engineering or theological. And, well, Dr. Singer was better than nothing, she guessed. The three of them looked up at the shrinking rectangle of daylight above them. Four sisters looked down at them, and Francesca got the sinking

[00:12:20.476] Speaker 1: feeling that she would never see them again. A minute later, the elevator clanged to the bottom of the shaft. [elevator clanging] The robot in rags walked into the deep darkness of the tunnel before them. A second later, it disappeared into the black, and she could only hear its ancient servos fading farther down the tunnel. Dr. Singer glanced at the two of them.

[00:12:55.136] Speaker 3: I didn't leave home to stop halfway.

[00:12:58.116] Speaker 1: Then she strolled boldly into the darkness. A half breath later, Fran and Ursula followed. After all, what could possibly be worse than demons? Part 10: Upgrade. Ethan pointed his new arm at the paper target and pulled the

[00:13:33.016] Speaker 1: internal trigger by trying to move fingers he didn't have. The double barrel shotgun, which was his arm, spit fire and metal, [shotgun firing] taking the head clean off the poorly drawn demon. Dumpit had a maniac smile on his face.

[00:13:50.016] Speaker 2: Now flex your bicep.

[00:13:51.356] Speaker 1: Two shells popped out of Ethan's bicep and clattered to the floor. [shells clattering] Without being told, he slapped two more shells into the back of his right elbow, pointed his forearm to the ceiling, and cocked the gun by moving his whole arm up and down.

[00:14:07.116] Speaker 2: Sweet and sour Lord above. You look like you could take the Chained One himself.

[00:14:12.436] Speaker 1: Ethan squinted and stared into the distance.

[00:14:16.436] Speaker 4: Well, call him up. We'll settle it now.

[00:14:19.616] Speaker 2: Hell yeah. We'll settle this thing in the backyard right now. Why bother with a war? I like your style, holy man.

[00:14:27.376] Speaker 1: Ethan lifted an eyebrow.

[00:14:29.856] Speaker 4: I take it that's not actually an option.

[00:14:32.516] Speaker 2: Nah. Chained One would never go mano a mano. Demons ain't got no honor.

[00:14:37.376] Speaker 1: Then he took off an invisible hat and held it to his chest.

[00:14:41.516] Speaker 2: Excepting the King, of course.

[00:14:44.456] Speaker 4: What is it you see in that man?

[00:14:47.196] Speaker 2: It's not what I see, it's what he does. Without the King, there ain't no home in the Outskirts. Maybe not in the whole world. Between him and the Corpse Lady, they keep away anything real nasty.

[00:14:58.236] Speaker 1: Who was the Corpse Lady? Separate from the Mixers, then? Ethan had been ill-prepared for the factions at play in the Outskirts. It was more complex than he'd imagined. In truth, he had expected to walk right in here, kill the Stalker, and be home for dinner. Or nutritional paste. That was fine, too. He was still finding out, though, just how wrong he'd been. Ethan never got the chance to ask about this Corpse Lady because Dumpit waved his hands around for the forge

[00:15:33.236] Speaker 1: workers to gather.

[00:15:35.656] Speaker 2: Circle up. It's feedback time. [feedback sounding] All right, everybody pull your work out. It's been a long day.

[00:15:46.576] Speaker 1: Bad news, sad burn.

[00:15:49.656] Speaker 2: Let's see if we got anything Holy Man can use.

[00:15:52.736] Speaker 1: The forge workers, many of whom were still seriously injured, placed various metal contraptions in front of themselves on the big table in the center of the room. Dumpit walked around to the first person, a shockingly pale woman in her mid-50s with so many burn marks on her arms it was unsettling to look at. She pushed a slightly melted-looking sword forward another six inches for Dumpit to inspect. It wasn't the best work, but a weapon didn't have to be pretty to function.

[00:16:26.756] Speaker 2: This is the worst piece of trash I have seen in my entire life. My dad mama could have coughed up something better with her two hands tied behind her back. Even then she'd be ashamed.

[00:16:39.016] Speaker 1: He snatched the sword off the table, causing the workers to cringe. Then he walked over to a still hot forge and dropped the thing right in, staring straight at the woman while it melted. Then he walked over to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

[00:16:57.556] Speaker 2: I believed in you when you walked through that door, and I believe in you now. You're my best friend and the heart and soul of this whole damn city. Never doubt you can do better.

[00:17:11.436] Speaker 1: The woman took her lashings and praise stoically. Dumpit walked to the next person, briefly inspecting what looked like a handheld battering ram, and nodded without comment. Then he tore into the next person, cursing enough to make the tattooed man blush, and by the end of his follow-up praise, both Dumpit and the man were hugging each other, crying. Ethan's second mind queried him for once. He just shook his head.

[00:17:41.936] Speaker 4: Don't even ask.

[00:17:45.336] Speaker 1: An hour later, the entire forge crew was sloshing drunk on moonshine. Dumpit dragged a scrawny boy with a flush red face over to Ethan.

[00:17:55.636] Speaker 2: This here's TJ. He made you bullets for that big-ass gun.

[00:18:00.936] Speaker 1: Ethan stared back at the boy, who shriveled under his gaze. Dumpit poked one fat finger into Ethan's chest.

[00:18:08.696] Speaker 2: Thank TJ.

[00:18:10.116] Speaker 1: Ethan dialed his stare from neutral up to simmering.

[00:18:15.216] Speaker 4: Thank you, TJ.

[00:18:17.536] Speaker 1: Y- y- yes? The boy seemed to realize that response made no sense, panicked, then bowed. Realizing how foolish that was, he rose from his bow and scrambled away without another word. Dumpit swayed back and forth as if aboard a ship. He gestured at the messenger

[00:18:36.636] Speaker 2: You get forty shots. Full, full clip. Every tenth shot is a silver tipped bullet. Took a lot of teeth to get that silver, so don't waste it.

[00:18:48.436] Speaker 1: Ugh, you took out people's teeth?

[00:18:52.196] Speaker 2: A collection, holy man. There's some people out there who think, think you'll amount to something. Don't waste their hope. Or their bullets.

[00:19:03.696] Speaker 1: Dumpit teetered dangerously to one side, spun, then crashed into his desk. Continued speaking as if nothing had happened

[00:19:12.856] Speaker 2: DJ who wrote their names on those bullets. Romantic. Good kid. My best damn friend. Heart and soul of this city.

[00:19:22.816] Speaker 1: Ethan helped Dumpit into his chair, where he passed out soon after, snoring peacefully with his chin resting on his ample torso. Ethan slipped the extended clip into the messenger, spun it smoothly, then slid it back into the holster. Then he turned and made for the door.

[00:19:44.556] Speaker 4: Thanks, Dumpit.

[00:19:46.936] Speaker 1: Ethan stepped out into the cool night air, marveling at the distant sounds of conversation and laughter. Human sounds. A sound that should be made normal again. It was a simple thing, but it perfectly described what he was fighting for. The six elite scary boys sat on their motorcycles at the edge of paradise waiting for him. The reception was nearly warm as a freezer.

[00:20:22.656] Speaker 1: The stalker melted from the shadows as Ethan approached. His second mind plopped a black warning icon on him immediately. The fact that he hadn't been picked up by infrared sooner was perplexing

[00:20:36.656] Speaker 4: Looks like someone got a fresh coat of paint.

[00:20:40.276] Speaker 1: Paint and weapons. Not much more. Which was why he needed to see the nuns. Repairing his titanium endoskeleton and the many hundreds of damaged systems was not work a post-apocalypse forge master was up to, however skilled he may be at putting guns on stuff. Ethan's expected lifespan had shortened considerably the last time he was knocked unconscious and rebooted. Fixing his more mundane but essential systems would be necessary if he expected to survive the

[00:21:15.196] Speaker 1: week. Malfunctioning synthetic hormone injectors or uncalibrated force inhibitors could kill him just as surely as any demon, and those were very boring, meaningless ways to die. Much better to die atop a large pile of crucifer grafted warriors. The stalker slipped partially back into the shadows. Out of curiosity, Ethan switched to only infrared. His body below the collarbone was simply missing.

[00:21:50.256] Speaker 1: The trick was made no less mysterious once the curtain of darkness had been pulled back

[00:21:55.956] Speaker 4: Remember what I said about New Hope?

[00:21:58.976] Speaker 1: I don't expect them to welcome me with open arms.

[00:22:02.536] Speaker 4: I do. Their leader is called the Intercom, and it has an affinity for machines. Loves its robots. You're probably the most interesting thing it's seen in a while, too. I've personally had no trouble getting spies in. It's getting them out that's hard.

[00:22:20.656] Speaker 1: Ethan set the long, dark silver barrel of his new arm across his shoulder. Then I'll negotiate.

[00:22:29.796] Speaker 4: Oh, that's why I like you, Ethan. You're a blunt instrument. But this is a job for someone with finesse. Which is why I want you to visit a friend of mine first.

[00:22:45.856] Speaker 1: Now, you don't expect me to entreat with demons, do you? The stalker rolled his eyes

[00:22:52.396] Speaker 4: Let's call it a backup plan. You can borrow one of my allies. I believe she would be willing to help if she can use New Hope as a nest afterward. You're going to pay a visit to the Corpse Mother. The riders will show you the way.

[00:23:08.676] Speaker 1: Ethan straddled the seat of the spare motorcycle and revved the engine to life. This detour seemed like a waste of precious ammunition at best. Then again, ammunition spent on demons was never truly wasted. When he looked at it like that, he won either way. Ethan looked to the side and the stalker was gone. It was kind of the creature to keep revealing powers like that to him. It would make him that much easier to kill when their deal

[00:23:43.616] Speaker 1: was done. The other riders didn't start their bikes immediately, though. The scary boy nearest to him was staring with open malice. The murder practically dripped from her bone-covered face

[00:23:59.076] Speaker 3: That was my brother's bike.

[00:24:02.296] Speaker 1: Well, it was right kind of him to let me borrow it then

[00:24:05.616] Speaker 3: You shot him.

[00:24:08.516] Speaker 1: Ethan nodded down the street in the only direction they could be headed. This thing, the Corpse Mother, it uses dead bodies, right? One of the riders nodded. Wouldn't you say your body would make for a nice gift? He surveyed the other five riders. They would not meet his gaze.

[00:24:32.932] Speaker 2: Seems rude to show up without a few gifts. What do you think?

[00:24:41.292] Speaker 1: The scary boys finally started their motorcycles. The surviving sister was the last to join them, but she eventually sped off down the broken street. Ethan sighed. That was a relief. Words were cheaper than bullets, after all, and these creatures were still a little too close to people for his liking. He hated that he needed their help, but saw no other way to save the boy. So he pulled

[00:25:16.252] Speaker 1: back the throttle and followed the gang. Hopefully, their alliance would hold for just a little bit longer.

[00:26:16.412] Speaker 1: Dumpit awoke to a splitting headache, wiped at his face, then looked down at his hand. It was covered in a thick layer of black grease. Oh no they didn't. He looked at the other hand. It too was painted in grease. He was careful not to wipe any more of the mess on himself as he got up from the chair and suddenly fell to the side, slamming to the floor and knocking the breath from his lungs. Dumpit looked down at his

[00:26:51.212] Speaker 1: feet. Where his fireplace poker foot should have been, there was nothing. He saw it then, laying on the other side of the room. Between him and the stolen prosthetic was a carefully placed carpet of mousetraps. Not quite large enough to seriously injure him, but certainly large enough to feel every single one as he crawled over them. Oh, I'm gonna

[00:27:26.232] Speaker 1: kill you. He heard the snickers from outside his office, and though the traps stung like a rattlesnake's kiss, he couldn't keep the smile off his face. These ungrateful cottonheads. Hadn't he taught them everything he knew? Hadn't he given them a bed and a warm meal? More laughter as they heard the mousetraps spring on him. He wasn't even trying to avoid them

[00:28:01.092] Speaker 1: now. Oh, he'd get his foot back. Then, then he would plan his revenge.