Amelia, Ch 364- Dragon
Minerva's files were a wreck wrapped in a mess inside an elaborate joke. If she wanted me to do her job, she went out of her way to make sure no one else had a damn clue what her job actually was. It had taken me almost two days to decode the file she entitled her Big Book of Blackmail. Decrypting it had taken less than a full second, the rest was me figuring out how to read her shorthand. And that was after spending a full week sorting through all her more immediately important tasks.
I would have frowned if it were my android body examining the file. There was information here that could get several congressman, three Prime Ministers and a Supreme Court Justice removed from office. Near as I could tell, most of her blackmail was acquired by using blackmail on other people. I wasn't sure I wanted to know where she got some of it from, but there was no way in hell was it legal. I found myself conflicted between standards as a person, and orders to help Avalon as best I could.
I sorted the copious amounts of information into two files. Relatively harmless blackmail, like the affairs and tax frauds went into one side. They didn't evoke the happiest impression of humanity, but they weren't outright evil. I'd find someone with slightly thicker skin and fewer restrictions to manage them. Waste not, want not.
The sick stuff, like accepting bribes to look the other way as a Juvenile Detention facility was used as the main resource for a prostitution ring, I could not ignore. I didn't imagine that Taylor and Amelia would, either. They likely didn't know this stuff existed in the first place. I dedicated one of my attentions to managing a series of snooping algorithms that would get the evidence needed to get valid warrants, and a list of authorities that we could tip off and expect some gratitude from later. Just because I was opposed to blackmail, didn't mean I couldn't see the value in collecting and trading in favors.
The changes that Emma made to my code were a dream come true. While I was prevented from performing actions ten time faster due to the processing speed limits, it gave me the ability to multitask spectacularly. I could devote my full attention to a total of fifteen different tasks at the same time, though only one could be used for any single task. My artificial body was granted the Tinker processing, and was busy working on the repairs and making an EB tissue upgrade for my armor system. I didn't want to start the next generation of my ships until I had time to sit down and make sure they met our new maximum potential.
Seven other attentions were dedicated to managing and artificially advancing Avalon's economy and industry. Via proxy, I was making oil trade arrangements with nations that would rather buy from us than Russia or the Middle East. Just cheaply enough that those nations could resell the supplies at profit, forcing overall prices down. Mapping where we wanted the Japan portal when it was created in about a month, and planning the ceremony surrounding that. With any luck, we'd be as modern as Bet within a decade, if far less populated.
One of those seven perceptions had become distracted after stumbling across a casual maneuver by Number Man, which I traced back to a request by the Elite to expand some of their interests onto the East Coast.
Now he and I were engaged in a game of chess to determine if the ailing Medhall would get a chunk of the New York market instead of the Elite's shell companies. It was a far cleaner use of our time and resources than a real clash between us would look like. Were the two of us to really go at it, we could destroy entire economies, and neither of us wanted that. I was starting to worry that I might actually lose the chess match. I idly left a note to the Empresses about this event.
Three focused on the Endbringer algorithms, trying to predict the next attack or find the Endmakers. One to track them, one to analyze Glaistig Uaine's frustrating claims on the subject, and one to use Rapture's models. Progress was nonexistent.
I spared a section of effort to the Birdcage. They were holding court. Theoretically, it was past lights out and they should be on lockdown, but I tended not to interfere with the cellblock leaders' meetings. They rarely caused trouble with one another, and giving them more time to handle the herculean task of maintaining what passed for civilization down there was the least I could do. It was also the most I could do. I used my social analysis tech, which had been an incredible boon in keeping the prison more peaceful than it had ever been, to watch the proceedings.
"I'm afraid Valerie is ill, beyond the ability of my medical staff to treat," Teacher started his turn at the podium. Several reactions of concern or distaste. The casual sadism inflicted on Valefor meant nothing to them, they were worried for the loss of the convenience that Valefor provided to their men. The female block leaders tended to keep the prostitution small scale and strictly voluntary, and also extremely expensive compared to what Teacher charged. "I'm afraid we may have overworked her again."
Marquis spoke next. "That is a concern. We all know that there is only one person with a legitimate healing power in the cage. Glaistig Uaine, would you be willing to grace us with your power?" Portraying himself as a benefactor and leader to the others. Nothing I didn't already know, the man was every bit the leader his daughter had become and more.
"You know my price," Glaistig Uaine responded calmly. "As does the Appraiser." She's asking for a sacrifice, it's the only thing she ever asks for.
"Indeed I do, Faerie Queen," Teacher agreed calmly. Underlying hostility between the pair. Both compete for the resource of the undesirable members of the cage, the ones that the other leaders have little use or love for. Teacher's fear of the much more powerful parahuman, and her love of him groveling, kept their relationship stable. "My humblest apologies, it is not a price I can afford at the moment. All of my people are valuable parts of the community, their loss would be felt. If nothing changes, then perhaps I'll be able to give you Valerie in our next meeting?" Reminding the others that, as overpriced as many of his services are, he was responsible for virtually all of the maintenance and medical care in the Birdcage. A problem that I need to find a way to alleviate.
"I may be willing to pay that bill," Lustrum offered. "I trust that Bakuda would be acceptable as a payment?" One of the more unpleasant practices born of Glaistig Uaine's gruesome demands had birthed was a habit of storing the decapitated heads of parahumans, using them to purchase favors where needed from each other, knowing that ultimately, they'd go to placating the Faerie queen. That Lustrum had held on to this one for so long was a surprise.
"Should the faerie still remain with the body, Torchbearer. I am led to believe the Fusilier was badly damaged."
"Naturally," Lustrum agreed before turning back toward Teacher. "There is, of course, the matter of my payment. A couple of my girls are becoming increasingly distraught over their circumstances."
Teacher smiled. "Ah, yes, that is something I can easily fix."
Lustrum activated just the lightest touch of her power, and my instruments kindly informed me of the temperature of the room dropping by several degrees. "Not like that, you pig. You will rededicate one of your people as a therapist to assist in their care. And if I suspect treachery at any point during their treatment, I will take your head to replace Bakuda's."
"That would require I take a resource from elsewhere." Faking concern, has already decided he's willing to pay the price. Is setting the stage to negotiate terms.
"That is not my problem. If you are so worried for your resources, you should take care of them better."
I pulled away from that conversation. They'd continue their posturing for a while, but the deal was a certainty at this point. At least that meant Paige was going to get some form of help. It was, however, concerning about Teacher. He was running low on people, that was true, because he was using them for everything and to provide services for everyone. With exception to Glaistig Uaine, each of the block leaders had come to rely on Teacher's services. A fact that gave him significant power and let him enslave more and more parahumans. It was frustrating to watch. I needed to find a way to make the others need him less. Without breaking any of the contracts I agreed upon when taking control of the facility.
So instead I devoted that attention to analyzing the legal paperwork inherent in the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center, my duties and tasks, my limitations, and the various problems I had with it. There had to be something I could do, short of the obvious and asking Avalon to take control of the facility. Which the current joint US/Canada arrangement that owned the facility would never agree to. Considering Pantheon's proud history of collecting supervillain recruits, that was entirely warranted and I could imagine them releasing a full ten percent of the cage's population upon having control of it.
Many of whom never belonged there to begin with, I reminded myself.
The remaining attentions were dedicated to Leet and Masamune. While I couldn't Tinker more than once, I could devote my attention to giving other Tinkers tricks and tips for their own works. Three minds devoted to accessing the huge library of data I had access to almost instantaneously. I had to suspect Richter never anticipated what I could do if working with others. The man never did seem to want, or understand how, to work with other people. With the new attention I could give it, we were busy designing the M8 upgrade. It still retained the organic laticework, but it was more like a cybernetic Endbringer clone than a living thing anymore.
It would never be released on Bet. Unlike the earlier models and combat suits that could easily be disabled with a single thought from Khepri, and not much more from Gaea, these were almost purely robotic and could actually fight back against the Empresses. They would lose, of course, five of them weren't enough to fight even one of their smaller anti-Endbringer monsters. But they were too dangerous to give out to anyone other than Avalon's military.
Out of morbid curiosity, I ran the estimates of how long it would take for Avalon's current military to break the non-parahuman forces of all nations on Bet. The answers did not bode well for Bet. Even nuclear weapons wouldn't be enough to actually take down one of the Gargants, and a dozen Frostcats or Phalanx could shield themselves enough to weather the worst of the weapon. Radiation was no concern to them, nor was EMP. Three weeks to make it clear who the winner would be, six months to force the more stubborn and patriotic nations to accept a surrender.
Once parahuman powers were factored in, things became vastly more difficult. Something Pantheon clearly understood, given their methods of dealing with parahumans both American and overseas. I was not especially happy with how they subverted both Coil and Moord Nag, but my concerns were negated by the pair's casual disregard for human life. Sure, they were slaves now, but they were well treated and controlled.
Both were more than justifiable Birdcage material, and their lives would be forfeit quickly after getting there. Coil, for all his posturing, would have run afoul of Teacher or Marquis eventually. And Moord Nag would either have languished without the use of her scavenger, or she would have been put down by the likes of Lustrum or Glaistig Uaine when she attempted to refill her supply of power.
Instead, they've been subsumed and turned to useful tasks. I would save my empathy for their victims and spend my efforts on freedom for myself and those innocents that deserved to have someone champion their cause.
My various tasks ran along mostly untroubled, save for the chess game I was slowly losing and my worries over problems that could not be solved easily. Then a series of alerts caught all my attentions. The next Endbringer was starting to move.
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A/N- This chapter took for fucking ever.