Armsmaster and Miss Militia guided Smokey and me to the power testing area, the same one that I had used briefly the first time I had been to the PRT. Armsmaster immediately headed to a cart, laden with obvious tinker tech, most of which appeared to be in his style. It was all small, refined, and, funnily enough, painted blue. After a few minutes of us watching him prepare his equipment, he turned back to us.

  "I am ready to run my scans," he explained, gesturing to a heavy-duty look chair next to his cart. "Smokey, if you would sit down here?"

  Smokey looked at me, and I gestured that it was up to him. I refused to order him to do any of this, only accept that he volunteered. I would take control of our fights, and they both clearly considered me to be their leader, but I would not force them to do anything.

  Unless one of them went off the deep end. Unsurprisingly, that would change a few things.

  Smokey sat down in the seat, the overbuilt chair holding his weight easily as Armsmaster brought out a handheld scanner, the first of many. Smokey and the armored hero talked quietly to each other while Armsmaster scanned along his arm. I had no idea what they were talking about or what he was scanning for, but after a few minutes, they stopped talking and he switched devices, continuing for about forty minutes. Armsmaster steadily made it through every device, working at a quick, efficient pace. During the last fifteen or twenty minutes, the power testing people arrived and began setting up for their testing while the hero continued to work.

  While we were waiting, I chatted with Miss Militia about how things were going and how she was recovering from her run-in with Hookwolf.

  "It's never fun to get confronted with your mortality like that," Miss Militia admitted, getting a lot deeper than I had expected when I asked the question. "I was already contemplating how long I could keep from dying to give my team as much time as possible to save the civilian…"

  "Jesus… Are you, like... talking to someone about this?" I asked, not wanting to get too invasive but concerned for her anyway.

  "The PRT does not have psychologists on staff," Miss Militia said with a frown. "We've been trying to get the funding, primarily for the Wards, but with no success."

  "...So?" I asked, looking confused and getting an equally confused look back in return. "So what if the PRT doesn't have the funding? I assume you have health care, right? Then go out and find your own. Tell them you had a run-in with Hookwolf and that it's affecting you. Hell, you can even explain away your powers by saying you never leave the house without your pistol or something."

  Miss Militia looked at me for a long moment, seeming to blue screen as I appeared to rather handily solve her issue. Not yet satisfied, I continued while rubbing my face with frustration.

  "I also assume the Wards have parents who also have health insurance? They should seek out their own psychologists as well," I suggested, leaning back in the chair, my arms crossed. "I would assume that Vista or Clockblocker would have a harder time hiding their powers, but with an NDA or two, I'm sure that could be mitigated."

  "I… I hate how easy that sounds," Miss MIlitia admitted, frustration in her voice. "How could none of us think of that?"

  "Common sense has a way of stalling out sometimes," I admitted with a shrug. It happened a couple times to me since I got my powers. "Just gotta remember to occasionally remind yourself to think outside the box you locked yourself in."

  "I suppose I would have to," She said, shaking her head. "I will bring this up with Director Piggot, but I agree a message to the Wards parents might be in order. We supply them with supplemental health care, so I believe we could use that to coordinate hiring enough help. Thank you, Arcanum."

  "Happy I could help."

  We sat silently for a while longer, Miss Militia most likely contemplating the points I made, and hopefully considering what else she had missed. I, on the other hand, was once again wondering why I was bothering to keep the PRT happy. Not only did they struggle with common sense, they couldn't even spare the funding to keep their members and Wards mentally healthy.

  Eventually, once Armsmaster completed his scans, finishing off by taking a small metal sample off of Smokey's back. He failed to do that twice, each time getting a larger and more powerful cutting implement, until he was forced to use a tinker tech cutting device. I couldn't help but smirk at the resilience of the golem frame I had made for Smokey. When he was done taking the sample, they both made their way back to us, the PRT tinker hero looking slightly frustrated.

  "Smokey does not emit any harmful radiation or energy levels," Armsmaster explained. "He contains no internal circuitry, nor does he seem to be receiving input from another location. Save for several small cavities around his chest, he appears to be solid metal."

  I resisted the urge to frown, realizing the cavities were most likely formed when sealing the golem core and the police badge into Smokey's frame. There must have been gaps where I didn't push metal in well enough, forming noticeable pockets. Knowing our luck, the PRT would make a note of that, probably as a potential weak spot. I would need to come up with some way to protect his golem core and badge, even more than a few inches of metal.

  "Thank you for confirming that," I said with a nod. "Does that mean it's time for the power testing?"

  "It does," Armsmaster agreed with a nod. "I need to leave, to put my findings in a report to attach to his file."

  He turned and immediately walked away, walking past his cart of stuff. As he passed it, he pressed some sort of control unit on his belt, and the cart started to move, following after the hero, matching his pace exactly. All three of us watched him leave, Miss Militia shaking her head slightly.

  "I'm sorry about that," She said, frowning and turning to face us. "He means well and is dedicated to being a hero, but he lacks social skills, or at least the desire to use them. Follow me, and I'll introduce you to the testing team."

  Miss Militia led us to the patiently waiting group of PRT scientists. They seemed more than a bit curious about Smokey's origin, but did not seem surprised when I refused to reveal how I had made him. They also took my word that he was fully sentient, treating him as a person as they asked him questions about his body, his powers, and what he was curious about learning through the testing process.

  Once again, Miss Militia and I sat back as Smokey was put through his paces. The first step was to ascertain his brute rating since that was easily tested and quantified. They started by having him lift a series of increasingly heavy weights, several of which were made from materials other than metal. According to Miss Militia, that was to confirm his strength wasn't attached to a specific material.

  They also had him perform several feats of strength, like breaking or bending something, smashing through walls, or lifting actual heavy objects, rather than gym out equipment. They even proposed several scenarios, put an object underneath the things he was lifting, and promised rewards for certain tasks.

  It was all rather thorough, if a bit strange.

  "There are several capes out there with brute ratings that only correspond to certain materials or certain actions." Miss Militia helpfully explained. "Manpower, for example, is a brute, but his "explosive strength" is above his normal strength levels. A load he would struggle to lift a few inches off the ground, he could most likely punch up into the air."

  "I could have told them he doesn't have that ability," I pointed out. "His frame is an artificial construct. I may not know the specific numbers, but I know how it works."

  I said confidently, only to be proven wrong several minutes later when the scientists finally delivered their report about his brute rating.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  "His normal baseline is around seven tons of straight lifting power, evenly dispersed throughout his body. The lack of actual muscles means he essentially has unlimited stamina, and does not suffer from weak spots due to muscle placement," one of the scientists explained, looking down at a clipboard and adjusting his glasses before turning the page. "He is also much tougher than his base materials by about twenty to thirty percent. We also noticed an interesting phenomenon during the state of mind testing."

  The scientist looked over at one of her compatriots, who stepped forward with a nod. He flipped through his own notes before starting to speak.

  "As you might have seen, we pushed Mr. Smokey to lift several objects during several scenarios," He explained, tapping his papers. "We consistently saw a slight increase in strength when he was defending or protecting something. It was minor, barely detectable by our machines, but that is to be expected due to the nature of these tests. Still, it was consistent enough to say I am confident Mr. Smokey is likely stronger when is defending or saving something he is invested in."

  My jaw dropped slightly, and I couldn't help but look confused. Smokey hadn't mentioned anything like that before, and I certainly hadn't put something like that into the golem. I don't even think I could do something like that...

  "Now, for a human, this sort of thing wouldn't be entirely unexpected," The scientist continued. "Our willpower can increase our strength, working through damage we are doing to ourselves in order to achieve something we desire, like protecting something. But Mr. Smokey is not human. His body does not respond to willpower. When we were testing his strength, he had a flat maximum that he could not push past, no matter how hard he tried. Until we began the state of mind testing at least."

  "I… huh," I couldn't help but frown as I looked over at Smokey. "That's… interesting."

  "Sorry, Arc, I don't know what to tell you," Smokey responded with a shrug. "I hadn't noticed anything either."

  "Well, we haven't really gotten in a fight yet. It's not too surprising we missed something," I pointed out, scratching my chin. "Then again, considering your original start… it's not actually all that surprising."

  Smokey's spirit foundation was made from two echoes, a seasoned Brockton Bay cop and a young kid with dreams of becoming the same, or at least something similar. The fact that those mentalities made him stronger when he was defending or protecting something fit pretty well. The more I thought about it, the less I was surprised about the fact. Instead, I was more surprised that we hadn't realized before, rather than not believing it to be true.

  "Either way, it's interesting. How dramatic do you think the effect could get?" I asked, directing my question to the scientist who had explained it.

  "There is no way to really tell in a lab setting, but seeing as simply adjusting how you thought about the scenario had an effect, I would say it has the potential to be significant," He said, addressing both of us as he responded. "I would make a habit of looking at fights and conflict in ways that best activate this. You're not just punching the bad guy, you're protecting the people he might hurt, that sort of thing."

  "Thanks for the advice," Smokey said with an honest smile. "I will keep that in mind."

  The scientists continued to discuss his overall brute rating, mostly just talking to themselves and occasionally answering questions. Eventually, after factoring in everything they learned, they settled with the rating of brute seven. I thought that was a bit high, but they explained that the rating system was more of a threat assessment than an assessment of power. The combination of resilience, speed, strength, lack of fatigue, the way injuries don't decrease his strength, his ability to apply his strength in ways humans couldn't, and the potential to grow in strength should he be in the correct mindset, meant that labeling him anything under a seven wouldn't be accurate.

  Once they explained his brute rating and assessment, they moved on to his "actual" power, the summoning of his dogs.

  They started with the Doberman. They ran it through a series of tests, finally concluding that it was just about twice as strong, fast, and tough as a normal dog, putting it at a brute rate of around three or four. We also confirmed that losing his summon could stun him for a moment, though I was pretty sure he was hamming it up a bit. We also stuck to the white lie that not only was he stuck summoning one of the canines at a time, but he was also restricted to giving them verbal orders rather than taking direct control. They still followed his orders precisely, but with their "canine" personalities, which made them less efficient.

  The experiment with the Golden Retriever was a bit more complicated. I confirmed he was using the same basic type of healing energies as me, which they accepted as an expert confirming its safety enough to let them test it on minor injuries. It could heal simple scrapes and cuts quickly, but it was difficult to test what Smokey and I were pretty sure was its actual point, stabilizing people until people could come and administer proper first aid or healing. This was further confirmed when we realized that the Golden could locate nearby significantly injured people, sniffing out the volunteer with the most significant injury, a trooper with a fractured radius in his arm.

  The Golden couldn't fix it, but he could soothe the pain and slowly heal the bruising that accompanied the injury. I fixed it before they left, once they were done testing the Golden's ability. The final verdict for the Golden was a striker, shaker, and thinker rating of one.

  As for Smokey, on top of his brute seven, he also got Master 3, with a sub rating that matched his summons. I had a feeling they would be adjusting that number after Smokey had some time to use them in combat and show off what he was capable of, but for now, we simply accepted their conclusions with an appropriate level of interest and understanding. This was for their benefit, after all, it was in our interest to keep them feeling smart and useful.

  And to be fair, we did actually learn some things. Between the Golden Retrievers' ability to locate severe injuries and Smokey's increased strength, I was willing to take back my earlier dismissal of the process. Not to mention, having some actual numbers attached to the vague knowledge that my golems and the spirit guardians were strong, tough, and fast was nice.

  Once everything was done with the testing, it was time for the PRT to "establish" that Smokey was fully sentient. I already knew he was, but they had their own methods and definitions of the word, so they wanted to do it their way. Miss Militia led us out of the testing labs and onto the new location. The interview was simple, done in an interrogation room vaguely disguised as a lounge, with a couch and an extra chair. It was done by a PRT worker I didn't recognize, dressed in business casual.

  They asked questions, poked and prodded his responses, asked more questions, and things made to confuse and force someone to think illogically. They proposed false equivalencies, asked him to work out logical fallacies, and asked complicated questions about how certain things made him feel, which I assumed was to measure emotional intelligence. By the end, I was beginning to wonder if I would pass the test.

  When they eventually finished, they packed up their notes, sealed it shut with a bit of red tape, and then handed the whole file to Miss Militia. With a nod, she accepted the folder before guiding us back through the PRT interior. We entered into the same conference room as before, where Director Piggot was still sitting.

  "Welcome back," She said, flipping through another file before looking up. "It's time to finish that conversation."