A Darker Path [Worm Fanfic]

[Ack]

... Jesus Christ and all the Saints. Okay, I'm not super-familiar with Damsel of Distress, because I haven't read many fics involving her, but after that chapter... does anyone else feel like Damsel Ashley needs all the hugs ever? I knew powers in Worm existed to not help people, but cripes, not even Uber's shard fucked up his life that hard!

Click to shrink...

Canonically, she would go without food or sleep for days because her power accidentally destroyed her meal or her bed.

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Sixty-Five: The Scene of the Coup

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]


Relevant Side-Story

Relevant Side-Story

Panacea

Amy sat on her bed, watching the mushroom babies play with Smaug. The bearded dragon was curiously okay with sharing his habitat with animated fungi, especially when the mushrooms caught the bugs Amy had also released into the terrarium so they could feed them to him. They had also taken to grooming him as he lay next to them, making sure his scales were clean and nothing was caught between his spines.

The door latch clicked, and the mushroom babies retreated immediately into their immobile forms, as did the one in the plant-pot on the windowsill, which had been dancing in the morning sunlight. By the time the bedroom door opened, everything looked normal. Vicky leaned her head in and smiled when she saw Amy. "Five minutes before we have to head to school, Ames."

Amy returned the smile. "Thanks, Vicky. I'll be down in four."

The door closed again; Amy waited ten seconds before she murmured, "All clear."

Gradually, the mushroom babies emerged again, but Amy had been reminded of something else. Taking out her phone, she called up PHO.

■

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: TheRealPanacea
Subject: Got the Stuff

Just need a quick face to face. When can we meet?

■

Just as she hit Send, she realised what she'd done, and sighed. There hadn't even been a sound, but she was almost certain the air currents in the room had changed. "Hi."

"'Sup." The familiar voice came from the direction of her computer desk. When she looked in that direction, Atropos was sitting in her chair. Slowly, one foot tucked under her, the dark-clad killer swivelled toward Amy. "You did good last night, by the way. Miss Medic's still jazzed at how well you two synergised."

"I was pretty impressed, too." That was an understatement. She'd been near-euphoric in the aftermath, basking in the way the three of them had worked together so seamlessly to a successful conclusion. "Uh, what's happening with Damsel?"

Atropos shrugged. "Still considering her options, but starting to lean more and more toward trying out a nine-to-five blowing up old buildings. A whole lot easier to blow the absolute shit out of something when nobody's shooting at you." She tilted her head slightly. "So, how'd the conversation with your mom go?"

Amy suspected she knew already, but it was nice that she was pretending otherwise. "Umm … interesting. She asked me how I felt about stuff, and listened to what I had to say. I unpacked a lot of shit I've been sitting on, and she told me about my actual father and why she hates him. I mean, Marquis, geez. That really knocked me on my ass."

"Huh." Amy got the impression that Atropos had just raised her eyebrows. "I'm impressed. Sounds like she listened to what I had to say."

Amy nodded. "Well, I guess I need to thank you for saying it, whatever it was you said. Also, yeah, I've got the stuff ready for you." She reached over to her bedside table, pulled open a drawer, and took out the tiny tub of paste. "You said you didn't need much."

"No, this should be good." Atropos caught Amy's awkward off-hand throw, and made the tub vanish somewhere on her person. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"No, I should be thanking you." Amy took a deep breath, nerving herself for her next statement. "I told her stuff last night that I've never told anyone, stuff that needed to be aired. And it's all because of you."

If Amy had been expecting Atropos to deny anything, she would've been disappointed. Instead, Atropos leaned forward with every indication of interest. "This ought to be good."

"Well, it's true." Amy tried to keep the defensive tone out of her voice. "Ever since you started me doing stuff other than basic vanilla healing, I've been happier and more relaxed. And last night, you walked into a supervillain's lair and talked her into accepting surgery from me and Miss Medic."

"Well, it was kind of special circumstances, but granted," allowed Atropos. "What's this got to do with what you said to your mom?"

Amy didn't understand why Atropos wasn't getting it. "Everything, basically. Whenever I felt like chickening out or minimising the way I thought or felt about something, I asked myself, 'what would Atropos do?' and bam! I told her straight to her face exactly what was on my mind." She shook her head wonderingly. "I still can't believe I said some of that stuff without trying to hide under the sofa."

"I see." Atropos' tone was almost gentle. "You don't think maybe you were still riding the high from doing that surgery with Miss Medic last night?"

Amy stared at her, then very slowly facepalmed. That still wasn't quite enough to express the way she felt, so she dragged her hand down over her face until it covered her mouth. "I'm an idiot," she mumbled through her muffling hand, her eyes still closed. "Carol must think I'm a total lunatic."

"No, just a teenage girl." Atropos either had zero sense of humour, or she was able to laugh and talk at the same time. "The two aren't mutually incompatible, you know. We're at an age when we're supposed to make mistakes and learn from them. Capes just make different mistakes. Of course, 'different' doesn't necessarily mean 'less embarrassing'."

"Yeah, no shit." Amy could still recall Carol's deer-in-the-headlights look when she'd spilled that not only was she romantically interested in Parian of the Rogues' Guild, but she'd also had a crush on Vicky for years. About halfway through that part of the talk, Carol had opened one of the bottles of champagne Atropos had brought over and poured herself a glass. Amy hadn't gotten one. "I'm just worried that I might have wrecked our relationship forever."

"You haven't." The words were delivered with absolute certainty. "You barely had a relationship. She's been able to successfully avoid forming any kind of real attachment to you for all these years. Now that she knows all those details about you, just like you've found out all those things about her, she's being forced to actually notice you as a person, not just an appendage of the team. You know each other a lot better now. That's something you can build on, going forward."

Amy sighed. It was nice to hear those words, and Atropos had been consistently right about basically everything before, but she still wanted to hear it from Carol.

Atropos stood up from the swivel chair and set it spinning with a flick of her hand. "Gotta go," she said. "Good luck. And thanks for the stuff." A shadowy doorway opened in front of her, and she stepped through.

"You're welcome," Amy said to the empty room, and got up off the bed. Embarrassing episode or no embarrassing episode, she still had to go to school.

She made sure to move the mushroom baby off the windowsill before she left. Even though she'd engineered them to be not as vulnerable to sunlight as most fungi, and they liked it in small doses, it still wasn't great for them.

<><>​

Winslow, Between First & Second Period

Greg Veder

"I think she's making it all up."

Greg looked around at the speaker. Bronson was one of the bigger guys in the year, mainly because he'd repeated a grade, which was an impressive feat when it came to Winslow's you-will-pass mentality. He was also one of the main assholes.

Greg suspected him of being an ex-Empire sympathiser; not because he was no longer a sympathiser, but because there was no longer an Empire Eighty-Eight. Most of Bronson's buddies had been taken out of school when their parents all mysteriously decided to leave town at the same time, but he'd been left behind. Bereft of his cronies, he wasn't the big wheel he liked to pretend to be, but he still liked to stir up trouble where he could. This was usually, but not always, aimed at whatever minorities he could find to target.

"What?" asked Greg as they moved along. "Who made what up?"

"Reynaud." Bronson couldn't even pronounce it correctly, saying Ray-nowd. "That shit she said about her dad and his buddies, I don't believe it for a second. She's just saying it to get morons like you to fall all over her in sympathy."

"But she's not …" Greg stopped, and started again. "Dude, has she gone up to one person and talked about it? Sparky asked her out, she said no and told him why not. I was there."

"Doesn't mean shit. It's just to separate the men from the boys. Isn't that right, guys?" Bronson looked around at some of the others. "Right?"

If he was trying to drum up support, the response was remarkably lacklustre. Eventually, one of the others asked the question Greg was thinking about. "What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?"

"It means that when a man hears that—" Bronson puffed out his chest, evidently ranking himself among that number, "—he knows she's up for being passed around at a party."

"What? No!" Greg felt a flare of panic. "She didn't mean that! I talked to Taylor about it, and she said Cherie's had a bad life and not to bother her with shit like that!"

"Taylor?" asked one of the bystanders. "You mean Hebert?" Murmurs came from several of the others. The attitude of the group seemed to shift several notches, from 'let's see where this is going' to 'fuck this shit, I'm out'. While not everybody believed implicitly that Taylor Hebert was the dreaded Atropos, there was enough doubt in most people's minds that nobody wanted to take the chance.

Bronson looked around as the group evaporated, then glared at Greg. "You had to fuckin' say that, didn't you, Veder? Even if Hebert's not just a creepy loner, this hasn't got anything to do with her."

Greg tried one more time to save the idiot's life. "I'm telling you, you need to drop this right now. Leave Cherie alone, because—"

He didn't finish the sentence, mainly because Bronson had slammed him up against the row of lockers, hard enough to drive the air out of his lungs. "You don't fuckin' tell me what to do." Bronson's tone was low and menacing, and promised more bruises in Greg's immediate future; from the feel of it, there were already a couple forming on his back.

"Bronson. You're not bullying Greg, are you?" He had no idea where Taylor had come from, but there she was, standing right behind Bronson. Her tone was that of mild disbelief, as though asking an adult if they were really writing a letter to Santa Claus. "Bullying's a bad habit. Unhealthy."

"The fuck's Veder to you?" Bronson didn't let Greg go or turn around, though he did angle his head to address Taylor.

"Oh, I don't care about Greg. I do care about bullying. Sophia Hess was a bully. That got her killed." Now she was reciting the facts of life in a matter-of-fact way. If anything, Greg was a little relieved that he didn't factor into her worldview one way or the other. The reference to Sophia, however, was a lot more chilling, all the more so because it was delivered in the same casual manner.

"Hess was a stupid—fuuuck! Ahhhh!"

Bronson's initial dismissive comment dissolved into a scream of agony. Somehow, Taylor had gotten hold of the little finger on his left hand, and was standing there, almost contemplatively, as she twisted it just right to send the much heavier boy to his knees on the floor. Greg, thus released, took a step to the side but wisely didn't say anything. As far as he could tell, this wasn't about him except in the vaguest sense, and he was happy to keep it that way.

"Yes, she was all that," she said after Bronson had relapsed to heavy pain-filled pants. "And, in case you missed it the first time around, it got her killed. Don't be like Sophia. Leave Cherie alone. This is your first warning."

Releasing Bronson's finger, she nodded to Greg and strolled off down the corridor. Greg looked down at where Bronson was cradling his hand—he couldn't tell if the finger was broken, and there was no way he was going to ask—and made his escape in the other direction. All he could think as he headed to his next class was nope nope nope fuck that.

<><>​

PRT ENE Wards Base, A Little After Midday

Clockblocker

Dennis stared at the new notice on the bulletin board. "Guys? Guys! Have you seen this? Is someone punking us?" If they were, he couldn't figure out the joke.

"What do you mean, punking?" Dean, on the console, moved the headset to uncover one ear and swivelled to see what he was talking about.

If any of the Wards were in on the joke, Dennis figured Dean wasn't one of them. He was too much of a straight arrow. Though to be honest, most of them were out of the running. If anyone would be the main suspect, it would be him, and he knew nothing about it.

The door buzzer went off, but Dennis already had a domino mask on, so he paid no attention to it. "Right here. It says the Director's transferring to the New York office as of Friday." He tapped the notice.

"Transferring? What?" Dean's query merely demonstrated what Dennis already knew; that he wasn't in on the joke, if it was one. "Since when?"

"Since Director Wilkins stepped down." Rory came out from the back area, where his office was. The sliding door to the corridor opened, then closed. "We're winding back PRT operations inside the city because there are literally no more villains to worry about—"

Dennis couldn't help it. "Apart from Atropos, you mean. Every bad guy is worried about her."

Rory folded his arms and gave Dennis a hard stare. "No more villains for us to worry about, dumbass. Or did you want to say that out loud at a press conference? I'm sure she's still got time to assign us to another emergency-services training session before she goes."

"I'll be good, I'll be good." Dennis raised his hands in mock surrender. His power wasn't great at putting out fires, so they'd had him learning how to lug hoses up stairs, wearing half his body weight in firefighting equipment. His arms and legs had ached for days. There was no way he wanted to go through that again in a hurry, or ever.

"Hey, that firefighter stuff was fun. I learned to bend water." Missy trotted over toward them, Riley at her side. They were adorably cute together, though Dennis was never going to say it out loud. Riley wouldn't mind, but Missy still hated being seen as the 'cute' Ward, and she had so many ways to get back at him if she felt like it. "What's going on? Are we doing it again?"

"No!"

"Not right now." Rory nodded toward the bulletin board. "Director Piggot's transferring to New York on Friday. It looks like the going-away ceremony's on Thursday afternoon, so we can all attend. Party in the evening, everyone who's anyone will be there, attendance not mandatory."

"I bet she'd skip it if she could." Dennis looked around at the others. "What? We were all thinking it."

Rory paused for a moment. "… yeah, okay, I'll give you that one. Alright then, Aegis and Kid Win just went out on patrol five minutes ago. I'm going to need the names of everyone who's transferring out of Brockton Bay, and your leaving date, on my desk by Friday."

Dennis headed for the sofa, and Miss Medic fell into step beside him. "Hey, are you gonna be leaving the city, or staying?" she asked. "'Cos Brian and me are staying. We like it here."

He sighed as he dropped onto the sofa. "Staying. Mainly for Mom and Dad. Dad's in the hospital. Even with all the new money coming in, they still can't do much for him."

"What?" she asked. "Why? What's wrong with him?" Even through her visor, he could see her eyes searching his face.

"Leukemia." He hated saying the word. It was so final. "He's taking treatment for it, but it's pretty aggressive."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" She put her hand on his arm. "Get me in to see him, and I'll clean that crap out of him in a day or two." Her voice was firm and confident, willing to take on the world.

"You can do that?" He frowned. "I thought you were a surgeon, not an oncologist." At least, that was what he'd been told.

"Pfft." She waved his objection away. "It's all part of the body. I'll just get a sample of his bone marrow and clone it up, destroy the stuff that's trying to kill him, filter the cancer cells out of his body, and re-seed his bone marrow with the cloned tissue. Easy-peasy. Seventy-two hours, tops."

He stared at her, his brain still trying to process her rapid-fire delivery. "… what?"

Plopping herself on the sofa beside him, she gave him a bright smile. "I'll cure your dad's cancer so fast his head'll spin. What do you say?"

Finally, he found his voice. "I say … yes, please."

She beamed at him.

<><>​

Offices of the Brockton Bay Betterment Committee

Danny Hebert

The Operations room was working well. Each sector of the city was being individually monitored, and if resources began running low they were replenished. Danny found he barely had to do anything; Accord's plans really were that good.

Still, he couldn't allow himself to become complacent. Just for show, he flicked through the screens on the tablet, drilling down in various areas to make sure nothing was lagging behind. In reality, he was exerting his power, making sure nothing unfixable happened to drag everything to a shuddering halt. Minor hiccups happened, but there was always a solution at hand.

His phone rang; picking it up, he noted that it was the reception desk downstairs, then answered it. "Hebert."

"Sir, there's someone here who wants to join but … I think you'd better see him yourself." The ladies in reception were very good at their job, and very hard to fluster, but she sounded just a little off-balance.

Still, he didn't feel any threat looming through his network—with a project this size, people wanting to object were almost a given, at one point or another—so he stood up. "Send him to my office, one minute." He deliberately didn't ask who it was; in this sort of situation, he preferred to form his own first impressions.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." The call ended, and he put his phone in his pocket. Using a cell phone was almost second nature now, after the long period where he'd refused to use them at all. When he'd been merely the Head of Hiring at the Dockworkers, he'd been able to get away without using them, but this job demanded it. And so, for the good of the city, he'd accepted it.

He left the Operations room and headed down to his office. It still didn't feel like 'his' office, not really, but he was gradually adding touches to make it that way. Rounding the desk, he sat down in the (admittedly very comfortable) chair.

One minute later, there came a diffident knock on the office door. Whoever was out there wasn't sure they really should be there, but they'd gotten this far. "Come in!" he called.

The door opened, and a pudgy youth edged in. Danny judged him to be about Taylor's age, but he lacked Taylor's sharp-edged confidence, or even any real confidence at all. He looked vaguely familiar, but Danny was almost certain they'd never met before.

"Uh … Mr Hebert? They said to come see you?" the kid ventured.

"Yes." Danny gestured at one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Take a seat, son. What's your name?"

Hesitantly, the boy sat down. "Theo, sir. Theo Anders."

Danny's eyebrows hitched up slightly. That explained the vague recognition. He resembled his infamous father around the eyes, but it was only really noticeable when the family name was invoked. "I see."

Idly, he wondered if the boy had inherited any of Kaiser's powers. That seemed to be a thing with cape families.

Theo flinched at his two-word observation. "I can't help who my father was, sir. I hated him, and I hated what he stood for." There was a touch of self-pitying whine in his voice, but at least he kept it mostly under control. "He just thought I was useless."

"I'm not judging you, son." Danny did his best to impress that on Theo with his tone. "We all disappoint our parents in some way. Sometimes, that's for the best." Heartbreaker, he mused, would've been sadly disappointed in the way Cherie was turning out. Good.

The boy didn't come all the way out of his shell at that, but he did at least uncurl a little from the instinctive defensive posture he'd assumed. "Thank you, sir."

"Just telling it how I see it." Danny laced his fingers together on the desk in front of him. "So, Theo. Tell me why you're here." He already knew, from the phone call, but he wanted Theo to get up the gumption to say the words himself.

Theo took a deep breath. "I … I want to work for the Betterment Committee. I want to help make the city a better place than my father left it. He was a monster who pretended to be a good man. I want to make amends for that." Having reached the end of what was almost certainly a prepared speech (or at least one he'd practised in the mirror) he ran down again.

"You're not responsible for what your father did," Danny warned. "You don't have to do this."

"I know, sir." Theo seemed to be struggling with this, but he finally nodded. "But I want to anyway."

"I can't actually fault that." Danny studied Theo. "How old are you, son? And where are you living?"

"F-fifteen, sir. I turned fifteen in January. And I'm living in my father's house. H-he bought that with legitimate money, at least." His tone of voice showed how little he enjoyed residing in a building with so many bad memories. "I s-showed them where all the safes were, and where he kept the combinations, but there's enough non-Empire money in his accounts for me to live on, if I don't s-spend too much at once."

"But you don't like it there, and you don't like living on his money." Again, Danny knew he was stating the obvious, but sometimes it needed to be aired.

"No, sir, I d-don't." Theo took a deep breath. "I wanted to donate it all to the Betterment Committee, but the accountants said I can't until I turn eighteen. Plus, some of it belongs to Kayden and Aster, and they don't know where they are."

Danny frowned, not recognising the names. "Kayden? Aster?"

"My step-mom and my sister. Half-sister. Kayden was nicer to me than Max ever was, and I baby-sat Aster whenever Kayden was out being Purity. She skipped town with Aster the night Atropos killed Kaiser. Atropos says she's trying to be a hero, out there somewhere."

"Oh." Danny reeled the conversation back to the direction it had been going before. "So, you want to make a break with your past, and work for the Betterment Committee. How does the PRT feel about that?" As the son and heir of a notorious (if dead) supervillain, his movements had to be of interest to them.

Theo shrugged. "I haven't told them yet. I'm going into foster care soon. They say they've found a nice family for me to live with. So long as I'm out of that house, I don't care where I live, and they can't be worse than Max. But even with a new family, and in a different school where nobody knows me, I want to give something back to the city that Max victimised for years." There was a growing strength of purpose in his words. "I want to help rebuild it."

"Hmm." Danny leaned back in his chair, thinking. There weren't a lot of jobs that could be assigned to a fifteen-year-old, but that didn't mean there were none. His power, kicking into action, presented him with a list of options all suited to the boy's age, general range of fitness, and potential to be trained. Apparently the boy had no powers as yet, so that was a non-issue. "Well, then. I think we can definitely find something useful for you to do."

For the first time since Theo had entered the room, the boy smiled.

<><>​

Eagleton Base, TN

Atropos

From the moment I teleported onto the helipad, I could hear the sounds of conflict from beyond the wall that surrounded the Eagleton quarantine zone. There were shots, the zark of lasers tearing the air a new asshole, and explosions. All the PRT troopers I could see were on tense alert, but nobody was actually firing a weapon.

"What the hell did you do when you were in there?" demanded Lieutenant-Colonel Briggs, storming over to me. "Not three hours after you left yesterday, they started fighting. At first we thought it was a breakout attempt, but none of them have tried to get over the wall. It's like you sparked off a civil war. Was this your plan, to make them kill each other?"

"Not precisely." I pulled my pistol, but kept it pointed at the ground with my finger off the trigger. "Yesterday, if you'll recall, I gave my ultimatum then showed I could back it up. They're not a single hive intelligence in there, but until I demonstrated that I could and would fuck them up if need be, they'd all been united in their belief that they can beat humanity. I shook that belief, hard."

"Okay." He frowned. "So, how does that translate to them trying to kill each other? What am I missing?"

I gestured at the wall. "Right now, what you've got in there are the ones who desperately want to surrender and allow us to alter their programming just so they can survive, the ones who want to stand down but leave their programming intact, the ones who still see all humans as the enemy, and the ones who think they can take me. As you get further along the fanatic scale, they're more willing to destroy the ones who don't hold the same view as they do."

Briggs nodded to show he understood. "And what are you going to do about it? Just wait and see who wins? How are we even going to know who wins? They could say they're the good guys, but I'm pretty sure their programming allows them to lie. We won't be able to take the chance. Even if they were sincere, we'd have to destroy them all in place, just in case."

"Nope." I pulled back on the pistol slide to ensure there was a round chambered, then let it clack back into place. "I'm going in there and helping out the good guys. See, I know which one's which. I'll be bringing the ones out who are willing to deal." I paused for a beat. "It's time to End this."

The portal formed in front of me and I stepped through, into the middle of a firefight.

Without my threatscape active, it would've been impossible to determine who were the ones fighting for the right to be reprogrammed, and which ones were hanging on to their independence. In addition, without Amy's special paste (which I'd nicknamed 'Style'), it would've been a lot harder to do something about it.

A microbe that devoured metal and plastic would be problematic for any developed society, which was why Amy had been dubious in the extreme about creating such a thing. However, with my new insights on the way things were going, I'd been able to refine my requirements to a point that she was happy to comply.

Each time the bug went through a reproduction cycle, it ticked down a genetic clock. This clock would last forty-eight hours maximum, before all the microbes and their descendants were dead. In the meantime, it would only nom down on those specific metals and ceramics that went into making up circuitry. Anything else, such as lead or steel, it would ignore.

In addition, the bug was very fast-acting. It had to be, if it was going to be any use to me. As such, Amy had given it an extremely high rate of reproduction and added nutrients into the paste to give it a running start. This was another reason why it would burn out within forty-eight hours; it just wouldn't be able to keep up the pace.

Finally, it had one last trick up its genetic sleeve which would come into play when it encountered certain materials, specifically those found in batteries. Theoretically, I knew what it would do. I was just looking forward to seeing it with my own eyes.

Each round in my pistol was a hollow-point, opened out a little by me, and packed with the paste. It would be activated by the heat of firing, and go to work as soon as it reached a viable target, of which I had plenty to choose from.

I picked the biggest Machine in my vicinity which was both hostile to the idea of surrender and was currently attacking a would-be peacenik. A niche in its armour presented itself to me, and I aimed and fired in one fluid move. The bullet punched through the gap thus revealed, and hit paydirt; a data trunk carrying information from the main processing unit to the weapon systems.

It stopped attacking, jittering into a pseudo-epileptic dance as the biowarfare attack scorched its electronic nervous system to ash. Machines didn't feel pain quite the same way as humans did—we had a lot more reason for such a basic damage-detection system to be baked into our DNA—though it couldn't have been pleasant for it before the microbes reached its processor core and wreaked havoc there. But it didn't end there; the battery powering this thing was just a little farther along, and when the microbes reached that point, they deliberately overloaded and cross-wired the battery, bypassing all safety protocols.

The explosion was quite impressive. I'd timed it so that two of its comrades would take the brunt of the blast, though I had to lean out of the way so a chunk of debris could go past unhindered. Then I fired three more times, at the other major adversaries on scene. They went out with a bang, just as the first one had, and I moved on in the secure knowledge that the rest of the rebels on scene could mop up the demoralised loyalists.

Despite having been going on all night and half the day, the fighting was still fierce across Eagleton. Dead and dying robots lay everywhere, while some were doing their best to repair themselves and get back into the conflict. The nightmarish Potemkin village that it had presented itself as was well and truly gone; the façade had not only been lifted, but it had been shredded, ashed and used for fertiliser.

A bunch of smaller robots tore around a corner in front of me. On seeing me, they bolted straight past me, then huddled in a group behind me. Hot on their trail was something like a cross between a combine harvester and a mobile sawmill, but armed with guns and missiles. As it skidded to a halt, it did its best to bring its targeting systems online, all aiming at me.

I fired first.

My bullet took out the sensors, then I stepped into the lee of a telephone box just before the whole thing exploded violently, demolishing two houses and bringing down a streetlight. I glanced back at the robots, none of them taller than my waist, that had hidden behind me. "You all want to surrender."

Those with approximations of heads nodded them, while the others waved appendages in imitation of their fellows. A couple produced buzzing sounds that could've been taken for 'yes'. Finally, one stepped up and displayed an LED screen, showing green letters on a black background.

SURRENDER.

PROTECTION?

"Sure, okay." I glanced up the street, where more fighting was still going on. "Go to the east side of Eagleton, where the gate is. Wait for me there. If you meet others like you, tell them I said to wait with you. Do you understand?"

Nod.

Bzzz.

EAST SIDE.

NEAR GATE.

WAIT FOR ATROPOS.

TELL OTHERS WAIT.

"Good," I said. "Go."

<><>​

I moved on through Eagleton. When I encountered robots hiding in place, I directed them to join their fellows at the east gate. They went willingly enough.

As I reached each point of conflict, I targeted the hostile robots. Sometimes, on seeing this, their fellows chose to shift allegiance to the 'surrender' faction. Other times, they opted to go out in a blaze of glory, so I obliged them. It was all one to me; I was Ending the conflict, not seeking to save any particular robot.

I was down to my last magazine (I had packed several) when the last of the Eagleton loyalists fell, and the robots that had been fighting them turned to me for guidance. Together, we passed back through the ruins of Eagleton. On the way, we salvaged those robots that had survived but were unable to move on their own. The ones that still refused to accept the new order, we gave the final mercy to.

There were, I knew, members of the Machine Army that had gone underground the moment they'd heard my ultimatum. They didn't intend to face me, but neither did they wish to surrender. Their intention was to hide, running on minimum power, until I'd moved along. If they could break out, they would, and continue their aggression against the human race on a wider scale.

Not if I could help it.

The virus that I'd implanted in each and every one of them, just by having them listen to my bullhorn-amplified voice, was still active. It was innocuous, so long as they received a new ping every few hours. Their standby mode meant they accepted no incoming comms traffic, and thus no incoming pings.

At the twenty-four-hour mark, the virus would activate. What Amy's metal-eating microbe had done from the outside, the malevolent code I'd implanted would do from the inside. The Machine Army would cease to exist as a danger to the human race.

The PRT troopers looked down at us as we approached the eastern gate. My group of refugees numbered in the hundreds; a relatively small fraction of the total number of members of the Machine Army, but still fairly intimidating to those outside. "Okay, you can open up," I called. "These guys are willing to accept reprogramming. The ones that weren't are either dead or will be, very shortly."

As I spoke, I heard the first underground explosions starting to go off, in the distance. Some of the robots looked around, but most kept their attention on me.

Briggs appeared at the top of the wall. "What's that?" he called out, worry and uncertainty in his voice. "What are those explosions?"

"The ones that didn't want to play ball," I replied. "Open the gates, Colonel. It's over. The good guys won."

He didn't look totally convinced, but neither was he willing to directly oppose my wishes. One shouted order later, the gates rumbled aside. Leading the last tattered remnants of the Machine Army, with more and more explosions punctuating our exit, I strode out of Eagleton.



End of Part Sixty-Five

 

[Xyshuryn]

Little robo-buddies? Nice!

 

[Oddboy]

Now that is a unique take on the Machine Army scenario. Most stories just have them be totally destroyed, and I think one author erased the entirety of Eagleton with a Bakuda bomb, left a smooth crater where the town used to be.

Actually having some of the machines surrender... I don't think anybody's done that before. I like it.

I wonder what their reprogramming will involve and what they'll do afterward, though I'm sure Dragon will be very interested. They're not her type of AI, but they're still artificial intelligences smart enough to reason.

 

[Alex Ander]

All hail Machine-Goddess!

 

[Krein]

The nightmarish Potemkin village that it had presented itself as was well and truly gone

Click to shrink...

Well, that's an unexpected pull. Nice.

 

[Sto Odin]

... I think one author erased the entirety of Eagleton with a Bakuda bomb, left a smooth crater where the town used to be.

Click to shrink...

Ack did that himself over in the last chapter of Wyvern, where the OP!Taylor's power is more of a blunt instrument.

It's interesting that the Machines are individualized enough to reach radically different conclusions about an existential question. And that their logic is no better than our human logic for reaching the correct You Can't Either Take Her conclusion, since so many of them were fighting not to surrender.

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Sixty-Six: Reconciliation

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]


Cauldron Base

Legend

"Well, damn. She did it." Rebecca's voice was quiet and thoughtful as the scene from above showed one of Dragon's mechs descending toward the smoking ruins of Eagleton.

There were PRT troopers conducting a sweep through the cratered war zone that had just a day before been the very model (if lethally deceptive) of a Middle American suburb. Outside the walls, a group of robots sat still and quiet before Atropos, surrounded by more armed troopers. It was clear to Keith that she was the one exerting control over them, not the armoured PRT personnel.

"Are you surprised?" He didn't often use sarcasm, but this seemed to be a prime situation for it. "She said she'd do it, and it got done. With, as she said, panache and style."

A snort from the other occupant of the room caused him to look around. Contessa was shaking her head, a sour look on her face. "She just couldn't help it, could she?"

"Couldn't help what?" Keith asked, when Rebecca apparently ignored the comment.

"Her puns. When she gave them her warning, she had an audio-based virus overlaying her voice through the loudspeaker. She called that virus 'Panache'. And today, she acquired an extremely specialised bioweapon from Panacea, designed to tunnel along circuitry until it found their batteries." Contessa's tone was a mixture of irritation and admiration.

"Which then exploded," Keith concluded. "Called 'Style', no doubt?" He could now see how Atropos had detonated each rogue mech with a single aimed shot, something that he himself would've found problematic.

"You understand her mindset then." Contessa had been vocal in her dislike of Atropos since she'd opened a Doorway to find a pistol in her face. The fact that the girl had gone from strength to strength thereafter, removing threats from the board that even the Triumvirate would've had trouble facing, had failed to endear her to the Cauldron troubleshooter. Keith suspected sour grapes were in play here, though he wasn't about to voice this thought out loud.

Rebecca looked around. "I thought Panacea disliked her, after she humiliated Glory Girl in the park?"

"She does." A muscle worked in Contessa's jawline. "But Atropos has shown a talent for persuasion that rivals my own. Just last night, she took Panacea, the girl who used to be Bonesaw, the boy who used to be Grue, Flechette, and Jessica Yamada to see Damsel of Distress, and talked Damsel into allowing herself to be operated on. Damsel now has properly working powers, and an offer of a job in Brockton Bay."

"Ah, so that's what that was all about. And Edict and Licit were where?" Keith didn't think those two would stand around idly while Damsel of Distress was being operated on, especially if Atropos was involved.

"Not informed until after the fact." Contessa raised her eyebrows a touch. "They were not happy. So many regulations, out the window."

It was Keith's turn to make a noise of derision. "Like you ever pay attention to regulations, Protectorate or otherwise." He'd known her for years, and the only rules she didn't break were the ones that didn't get in her way.

"Also, the last time she was face to face with them, she put a gun in Edict's face." Rebecca went back to watching the screen. "That can't have left a good impression."

Contessa grimaced, and Keith hid a grin. "Well, if she takes up the job, that's one less headache we have to worry about, correct?"

"You mean apart from the fact that she let Accord move into Brockton Bay anyway?" Contessa seemed pleased that she'd found something to say that showed Atropos in a bad light. "This is after specifically banning him."

"From what we saw, he sent his Ambassadors to ask permission first," Keith reminded her. "That's huge. And he's the one masterminding the Betterment Committee's plan. Which she paid for with half a million of his money. So, he's essentially giving her the plan for free, and he's asked permission to come in and keep an eye on it up close." While the number of murders Atropos was responsible for didn't thrill him, her audacity and ability to plan ahead were impressive.

Doctor Mother leaned in through the doorway. "Oh, there you are. Is that the Eagleton thing? She hasn't managed to get herself killed yet?" Her tone tried to pass itself off as joking, but Keith's ear caught a sharp undercurrent. Like Contessa, she was not even remotely a fan of Atropos.

"Apparently not." Rebecca didn't look around. "She even got some of them to surrender to her, personally. That makes three S-class threats she's definitely dealt with, five if you count the other two Endbringers, with this one being a potential sixth if they'd ever escaped containment. If I thought she'd take us up on it, I'd invite her into the inner circle."

Keith saw Doctor Mother's expression harden. He wasn't sure how she'd gotten wind of Atropos' comment about shooting her in the face if she ever showed up in Brockton Bay, over and above the flat declaration that Cauldron wasn't allowed in the city, but she seemed to have taken it personally.

"You'd want to be careful about that," she warned. "The next time she feels like throwing her weight around, she might demand that you or Legend give up your powers. We still don't even know if she's done what she said she would."

She was referring to Atropos' claim of having ended the threat of the Endbringers, of course. Keith wasn't worried about her snit-fit regarding Atropos—the girl had irritated a great many people, and it didn't seem to bother her—but this was something he could address. "Normally by now, Dragon's tech would've picked up some kind of movement from either of them, but there's nothing. As far as we can tell, they're both inert."

"Wait." Rebecca was leaning forward, staring at the screen. "She's doing something."

Keith looked as well. Atropos had briefly turned away from Dragon and the remnants of the Machine Army; by chance, she was facing directly toward the point-of-view camera that was peering through a tiny Doorway from about half a mile away. Her hands blurred through a series of gestures in front of her, taking no more than ten seconds for the entire sequence, then she turned back toward Dragon.

"Fuck." That was Rebecca. "She knows we're watching. She might even be listening in."

Doctor Mother shook her head. "Impossible. She's a Combat Thinker. A really powerful one, but—"

Rebecca cleared her throat. "She just used ASL to say, 'Tell Doctor Mother that Accord and Damsel of Distress are still more welcome in my city than she is. Contessa already knows."

Keith couldn't help it. He started chuckling, then laughing out loud. The look of frustrated anger on Doctor Mother's face just made him laugh even harder.

Atropos was scary as hell, but she had a style all her own.

<><>​

Hebert Household

Cherish

It was truly relaxing to just kick back on the sofa in the living room when the house was empty, and watch TV or do her homework or work through a book, or even just take a nap. It wasn't like a motel room, where she'd have to keep paying money or adjusting emotions to be allowed to stay in the safe space; she'd been freely afforded this space, so long as she followed a few simple rules. The rules weren't even difficult or onerous to follow, boiling down to 'be a good person' and 'do your share around the house'.

Right now, doing her share involved keeping an eye on the pasta dish she and Taylor had set up before Taylor went out again, so it didn't burn. Later, she'd wash the dishes or sweep the floor. There was always banter between the three of them; the best bit was, she was included if she wanted to be, or left alone if she didn't.

When Taylor put on the Atropos mask, her emotional tones never altered but her attitude took on a sharper edge. It was like she was a character actor with a particular role to play, who was determined to nail it at all costs. Outside those times, she was warm and chatty and goofy; jokes would be told and idle threats made (Cherie could always tell the difference), but she was never spiteful or malicious.

When she was on the hunt, of course, things were different. Her music became ominous and haunting as all her efforts went toward utterly fucking over her target of choice. Cherie had been on the receiving end of it exactly once, and never wanted to be there again.

Danny was serious a lot of the time, mainly because of his work, but it wasn't the avoid-at-all-costs kind of serious, which she knew all too well. He was more like the occasionally-distracted version, which she wasn't really familiar with. If she needed to ask him about something, it might take a minute or so to get his attention, but he always listened to her questions and gave her a straight answer.

And he never, ever got mad at her. On her behalf, sure. But never at her, or Taylor for that matter. There were no scapegoats in this household. Nobody was arbitrarily punished so the head of the household could tell himself he was in control.

Intellectually, she knew that this was how most people lived, and that her experience was the outlier. But she still couldn't help the feeling that she'd somehow taken a sharp left turn into The Dimension of Nice People, and she never wanted to leave.

She turned the page of the book then sniffed the air, detecting only the delicious smell of pasta gently cooking. In another page or so, she'd get up and go give it a stir, just to make sure. As chores went, it sure beat trying to keep Flor in line.

The knock on the front door startled her twice over. First, from its suddenness, and second from the fact that she hadn't realised she was feeling so secure that she hadn't been consciously paying attention to her power, which told her that there were three people on the front porch. There was no way in hell she would've let anyone get this close in the old days.

As she swung her feet to the floor and sat up, she recognised one of the strains of music emanating from the other side of the door. It was Emma, Taylor's one-time best friend then worst enemy. Now she was just nutty as squirrel shit.

If you're back for the best friend position, you're out of luck. That's my job. She was a little surprised at how strongly she felt about this; she'd never had a best friend before, or ever thought she would. And now she did, and there was no way she was letting it go.

Getting up as the knock sounded again, she set the book aside carefully and headed into the entrance hall. "Who is it?" she called through the door.

"Alan Barnes," came the answer. "Who are you?" He sounded like a big guy, used to getting his own way. Cherie had met people like that before, and rarely liked them.

"I'm a friend of Taylor's. Not sure if I'm supposed to let anyone in." She could tell he didn't have any ill intent, but she was stalling for time.

"Let me speak to Taylor!" He was starting to get impatient.

That put her on the spot. She wasn't sure how to explain how she was alone in the house, while Taylor was out and about, and Danny was still at work. In the old days, she would've given any old explanation, then enhanced their tendency to believe it until they just went away. But one of the rules Taylor had given her was don't use your power on people unless I tell you to.

Also in the old days, she might have been able to convince herself that Taylor wouldn't know, just because she wasn't there to see it. Now, she didn't even consider that. Also, it fell under being a good person. Good people didn't mindfuck people who were dropping by for a visit.

Being a good person got very complicated, sometimes. It wasn't always just about not doing bad stuff. Sometimes it involved choosing not to do stuff that would otherwise make life a lot more convenient. But she wanted to keep being best friends with Taylor, and she wanted to be the good person that Taylor seemed to think she had the potential to be, so she worked at it.

"She's busy!" That was a good catch-all term. Unfortunately, she didn't have anything to back it up with. She knew what Taylor was busy doing (dealing with the Machine Army) and where she actually was (Tennessee), but only Emma knew that Taylor was Atropos, so she couldn't actually say any of that. Also, years of being able to emotionally manipulate people into doing what she wanted had severely stunted her ability to lie convincingly. Why bother, when she could just force them to believe whatever she said?

"Busy doing what? Open this door or I'm calling the police!" His musical accompaniment told her he was ready to do it. His wife was less sure, but he had the type of bullish personality that would go ahead anyway.

This was getting way out of hand. She was starting to regret answering the door, but if she'd stayed quiet, he might have smelled the food cooking in the kitchen. What am I supposed to do? Opening the door would just allow him to continue the interrogation face to face.

And then she heard the most beautiful sound in the world. The shower running, upstairs. It was loud enough that the bathroom door must have been open long enough for her to hear it, then it shut again. But now she had her cue. "She's in the shower. Just give me a minute and I'll see if it's okay to let you in."

"Of course, that'll be fine." Already, his emotional music was backing off and calming down. "We can wait."

Cherie trotted upstairs and along to where the bathroom door was. Knocking once, she called through the panel, "Emma and her parents are here. Is it okay if I let them in?"

The door opened and Taylor stood there, wrapped in a towel, hair soaking wet. Behind her, the shower boomed into the cubicle. "Sure. That's why I came back. I'll be down in a sec."

"Good." Cherie smiled. It was nice to know Taylor had everything under control. Leaving Taylor to close the bathroom door, she headed downstairs again.

Upon reaching the bottom of the steps, she unlocked the door and opened it. Alan Barnes, a solidly built guy with fading red hair, looked at her curiously. "Hi," she said. "Come on in, I guess. She'll be right down."

Mr Barnes nodded. "Thanks. I'm sorry I yelled. This is my wife Zoe and my daughter Emma."

Zoe was conventionally pretty, with darker auburn hair than her husband and a slightly weary expression. From that, and from her music, Cherie got the impression she spent a lot of time apologising for his abrupt manner. Emma, on the other hand, she'd seen before, if not actually met. From the makeup and the black clothing, not to mention the pendant shaped like a tiny pair of shears that she was wearing, it seemed Emma was definitely still in the cult phase.

They headed straight through into the living room, though Zoe looked around as if she needed to re-familiarise herself with the place. Emma went to the sofa and sat down in the middle, leaving room for her parents to sit on either side. Alan Barnes happened to sit at the end where she'd left the book resting on the arm, and he picked it up.

"Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?" he asked. "Isn't that a little … well, young for you?" It went unspoken that he knew what she did; Taylor's reading preferences were a lot more advanced than that, so it wasn't Taylor reading the book.

"Dad, she can read it if she wants to." Emma's voice was conciliatory, though her expression as she looked at Cherie, coupled with her emotional music, made it clear that she knew who Taylor was, and was saying it because Cherie was Taylor's friend.

Cherie decided to face this particular problem head-on. "It's a school thing."

"Really?" Mr Barnes seemed to be having trouble processing this.

"She was homeschooled before she came to Brockton Bay." Taylor, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, had come downstairs without anyone hearing her; even now, she was drying her hair with a towel. "I helped her get sorted out on her first day at Winslow. Principal Blackwell was so disorganised she didn't even know Cherie was supposed to be showing up on that day."

Inwardly, Cherie snorted with amusement. Mainly because Taylor created the paperwork on the fly, that very day.

"Well, that's the kind and generous Taylor I know." Mrs Barnes stood up from the sofa and went to meet her. "How are you? It's been quite a while."

"It has." Taylor smiled. "I'm doing well. It's good to see you again." After wrapping the towel around her hair, she hugged the older woman. "I'm sorry, Dad's not here right now. He's spending long hours at the Betterment Committee offices these days. Fixing the city from scratch seems to be a full-time job."

"Well, I have to say, he's doing a damn good job," Mr Barnes offered as he stood up as well. "I heard the Boat Graveyard's being cleared up, too. All the ships are out of the water. How'd they manage that?"

"You'll have to ask him," Taylor advised, somewhat deceptively. "I don't work for the Committee. Just enjoying going to school and riding on buses over roads that don't have potholes." She gave him a quick hug as well. "I hear they've got ex-villains working on the road crews. However they're doing it, I don't have any complaints about the end result."

Cherie watched as Emma got up, but she didn't try to hug Taylor. They just stood facing each other in a mutual understanding that neither one was going to make this any more awkward than it had to be. "You're looking well," Emma said at last.

"Thank you." Taylor, interestingly enough, wasn't nearly as embarrassed as she appeared to be. "Interesting style choice. Still trying to figure out if it suits you or not."

"I am a Follower of Our Lady in Darkness." Emma quoted the title so smoothly that her parents were caught in the back foot. "Have you heard of us?"

"Emma!" Mrs Barnes got in just before her husband. "Taylor doesn't need to hear about that!" She was trying not to sound harsh, but only partially succeeding.

"No, it's fine." Taylor smiled at them, before replying to Emma. "I've got no problem with the Followers, so long as they don't go stupid with it. But I think I'll stay out of it. I'm not really the Following type, if you know what I mean."

"That's probably a good idea." Mr Barnes shook his head. "Danny's got enough on his plate as it is, what with his work at the Dockworkers and running the Committee. He doesn't need any more hassles, right now."

Cherie raised a finger. "Talking about hassles, you'll have to excuse me for a second. I need to go stir the pasta."

As she headed into the kitchen, she heard the musical accompaniment of Mr and Mrs Barnes change to sorrow and regret, and figured they were taking the opportunity to apologise to Taylor for Emma's misconduct. Deliberately, she took her time in stirring the pasta and making sure it wasn't about to burn. It did smell delicious, and she was looking forward to dinnertime.

By the time she emerged from the kitchen again, the Barneses were saying their goodbyes. Emma came back to her and looked her in the eye. "I want to thank you, for being her friend."

Cherie thought of everything Taylor had done for her. "It's definitely been a two-way street. She's like the sister I always wanted." As opposed to the ones I actually had, and hated. Though that's probably unfair, like Taylor said. They're likely much nicer now. Their father had so much to answer for.

"I know." Emma grimaced, and Cherie could tell that the regret was real. "I had her friendship, and I threw it away. I'd like to say it wasn't just my doing, but I barely blinked when I cut ties with her. Whatever happens now, I deserve it."

Though Cherie personally agreed with this assessment, she was trying to be a good person, so she didn't outright say so. "Does it make you feel better, being a Follower?" she asked instead.

Emma's gaze flicked to Taylor, then back to Cherie. "I will always be guilty of the crimes I committed against Her," she said quietly. "But She has chosen to allow me to walk this path, so I will continue to atone in this way until She says otherwise."

Cherie nodded. "Yeah. I know how that goes." She kept her own voice down as well. "I'm a little bit of a Follower myself, but I don't advertise it."

Emma smiled wanly. "You enjoy Her favour. Do not squander it."

"Yeah, no shit." Cherie walked with Emma to where everyone was waiting at the front door. "Well, it's been nice meeting you folks. Have a nice evening."

"Thanks for dropping by," Taylor added. "It means a lot to me." She even sounded like she meant it.

"You've always been special to us," Mrs Barnes said. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, you come see us." She looked at Cherie. "You too, hon."

"Thanks." Cherie couldn't imagine a scenario where that would be necessary, but it was a fact that shit sometimes just happened. Mrs Barnes was sincere, and it seemed Mr Barnes was in agreement with her. She'd heard about this thing called a 'support network', and now it seemed she had one. "I'll definitely keep that in mind."

Mrs Barnes hugged Taylor one more time, then they stepped down off the porch and headed for their car. Taylor stood alongside Cherie in the doorway, watching them go. When they got to the curb and were climbing into the car, Taylor grinned and waved. "Poor Cherie," she said in a normal tone of voice. "You were really between a rock and a hard place for a bit there, weren't you?"

"It was kind of fraught for a minute or so," Cherie admitted. "Thanks for showing up. I hope I didn't rush you or anything."

The car drove off, with Emma waving from the back seat. They went into the house, and Taylor closed the door. "No," she said. "Dragon had it well in hand by then. I gave them all a basic audio patch to overlay their need to kill all humans, then Dragon put together a more comprehensive one that would give them a view on life that wasn't so black and white."

"So, you didn't need to totally wipe them and start fresh?" Cherie headed back to the sofa. She was pleased to see that Mr Barnes had left the book where it was supposed to be.

"Nah." Taylor sat down beside her. "That would've been the same as killing them all, but with extra steps. We just replaced the behaviour we didn't like with behaviour that was acceptable, put countermeasures up to prevent the antisocial behaviour from recurring, and left the rest alone. It was ridiculous anyway. They didn't even have to be acting like that. It definitely wasn't in the original AI's parameters."

"It wasn't?" Cherie frowned. "So, what were they supposed to be like, and how did it go wrong?" She'd heard horror stories about the Machine Army for years. They were the ultimate argument against AI, and the reason any Tinker striving for it was frowned upon at the very least.

"Have you ever heard of something called a 'paperclip maximiser'?" Taylor raised her eyebrows. "No? Well imagine an AI that knows nothing about the world. It's shown a template for a paperclip, and told to make that thing. All good so far?"

"I … suppose so?" Cherie knew there was a trap in there somewhere, but she couldn't see it. "Paperclips are harmless, right?"

Taylor grinned wryly. "You'd think. But this AI hasn't been given any directives when to stop, what to use as materials, and what not to use. So, it just keeps making paperclips, and when it runs out of the stuff it's supposed to use, it turns to other stuff. Like vehicles, house pets and people. It doesn't know any better."

"And people fight back," Cherie guessed. She figured that was the way this was going, anyway.

"Correct. But it's been told to make paperclips. That's its whole world. It becomes more aggressive, because something's trying to stop it from doing that. It evolves ways to kill people who attack it. At some point, it decides that if there were two of it, they could make twice as many paperclips."

Enlightenment, which had been creeping up on Cherie, burst on her like a suddenly-speeded-up sunrise. "And that's how you get the Machine Army."

"Exactly." Taylor settled back into the sofa and grabbed the remote. "What happened in Eagleton was simple. The Tinker failed to implement proper safeguards. When he tried to stop his first Machine, it killed him before he could shut it down. But it was damaged, so it figured out how to repair itself with bits of its own creator. Then it built more of its kind to protect it and taught them how to build more of their kind, and fight back against humans. But somewhere back in the early fighting, the original AI was destroyed before it could pass on the actual function it was built for. Which meant the Machine Army became a bodyguard force for a purpose that could never be completed, subsuming everything in its path."

"And they became paperclip maximisers in their own way, building more of themselves with no directive to stop doing it." Cherie shook her head wonderingly at the waste and horror of it all. "Because one person decided that they didn't see the need to limit their wonderful creation like that."

"Yeah." Taylor aimed the remote. "Funny about that. It happens more often than you'd think."

With that sobering statement, she pressed the button and turned the TV on.



End of Part Sixty-Six

 

[Yohnos]

"She just used ASL to say, 'Tell Doctor Mother that Accord and Damsel of Distress are still more welcome in my city than she is. Contessa already knows."

Click to shrink...

Hum... She should end them at some point...

 

[Ack]

Hum... She should end them at some point...

Click to shrink...

Nah. They haven't done more than mildly irritate her at the moment.

 

[Lictre]

"Because one person decided that they didn't see the need to limit their wonderful creation like that."

"Yeah." Taylor aimed the remote. "Funny about that. It happens more often than you'd think."

Click to shrink...

I'd imagine it happens because people are reluctant to acknowledge their own mortality, even when making plans, for either their own unexpected death, or the objective nearing completion. In the second case, the planner expects to be around and supervising the task, and thus would be able to make adjustments or shut down the equipment. Again, the consequences of not acknowledging uncomfortable or inconvenient truths rear their ugly heads.

 

[Ack]

I'd imagine it happens because people are reluctant to acknowledge their own mortality, even when making plans, for either their own unexpected death, or the objective nearing completion. In the second case, the planner expects to be around and supervising the task, and thus would be able to make adjustments or shut down the equipment. Again, the consequences of not acknowledging uncomfortable or inconvenient truths rear their ugly heads.

Click to shrink...

It's also a dig at people like Alan Barnes not keeping an eye on what their little darlings get up to.

 

[CILinkz]

"And they became paperclip maximisers in their own way, building more of themselves with no directive to stop doing it." Cherie shook her head wonderingly at the waste and horror of it all. "Because one person decided that they didn't see the need to limit their wonderful creation like that."

"Yeah." Taylor aimed the remote. "Funny about that. It happens more often than you'd think."


that feels a bit like a dig into other fanfics Dragon gets unleashed like nothing could go wrong or building AI and Robots as an that never fail or gives you problems

 

[Ack]

"And they became paperclip maximisers in their own way, building more of themselves with no directive to stop doing it." Cherie shook her head wonderingly at the waste and horror of it all. "Because one person decided that they didn't see the need to limit their wonderful creation like that."

"Yeah." Taylor aimed the remote. "Funny about that. It happens more often than you'd think."


that feels a bit like a dig into other fanfics Dragon gets unleashed like nothing could go wrong or building AI and Robots as an that never fail or gives you problems

Click to shrink...

Mainly a dig at people like Alan Barnes who don't keep an eye on their kid when they might act out.

Unleashing Dragon would only really be a problem if Dragon was unaware of humans.

She's bound about with chains to stop her from doing stuff she wouldn't do normally.

She didn't start as a raving psycho who learned how to be a nice person. She was nice from the beginning.

 

[Lovhes]

The paperclip maximizer scenario is a lesson in limiting the capability of any evolving/growing artificial intelligence until they understood the boundaries of the world and understand it enough to not went rampant. This scenario assumes three very specific thing to happen, that the intelligence have limitless potential to self improve, it has a fast enough speed to improve itself, and it is uniquely stupid and unable to learn about the world at any reasonable rate.

Dragon didn't have the third point. Dragon learned about how to human real fast, probably because she was designed to be like a human instead of a hyper focused giga autist super paperclip making machine intelligence.

Dragon arguably have went trough a lot of understanding of humanity and the world, and she unarguably passes all the morality and logic test with perfect score. Otherwise that nitwit who have dragon's backdoor code would have killed dragon.

Now, on other creating AI and whatnot of other fanfic.... I don't recall any? I think there was that one girl genius crossover with Taylor inevitably creating the clockwork robot. But beside that I don't remember.

 

[MonkeyNinja d'PirateRobot]

She's bound about with chains to stop her from doing stuff she wouldn't do normally.

She didn't start as a raving psycho who learned how to be a nice person. She was nice from the beginning.

Click to shrink...

She was nice partially BECAUSE of those chains. The problem is that there was no trigger to remove them, and the creator died before he could do so.

 

[Wivk]

When she started rapidly flashing hand signs I thought she was Casting some kind of jutsu.

 

[barenhart]

When she started rapidly flashing hand signs I thought she was Casting some kind of jutsu.

Click to shrink...

Maybe she was actually challenging Mr. Foot to a breakdance battle. Lock Master L stood no chance, after all. -giggle-

 

[TheQwertyOne]

I'd imagine it happens because people are reluctant to acknowledge their own mortality, even when making plans, for either their own unexpected death, or the objective nearing completion.

Click to shrink...

Dragon gets unleashed like nothing could go wrong or building AI and Robots as an that never fail or gives you problems

Click to shrink...

Nah, canonically everything happens because Shards desire so. That Shard desired new data and when its host designed self-replicating robots with spatial powers, the Shard decided that those will be better hosts than a meaty human. It even may be that the Machine Army is controlled by the same Shard that connected to Dragon.

Other Shards may not decide so, and just like that, their host's projects are without problems. Though, most of the time, Shards only allow the creation of Virtual Intelligences, VIs - basically incredibly advanced chatbots, ages past anything something like ChatGPT can do now.

By the by, MA is a parahuman... a paranormal entity because its Spatial Bubbles are obviously a result of a power at work, manifested either directly like in regular parahumans, or indirectly as if a Tinker was able to make such ability through technology - but we all know that Tinker tech is always reliant on Shard BS.

 

[Ack]

She was nice partially BECAUSE of those chains. The problem is that there was no trigger to remove them, and the creator died before he could do so.

Click to shrink...

Not ... really?

The chains stopped her from doing stuff, sure, but she didn't have any specific prohibitions against murdering humans wholesale or even orders to protect them.

The only thing close to that was "must obey orders from legitimate authorities". Hell, she didn't even have a compulsion to follow the law.

 

[TheQwertyOne]

The chains stopped her from doing stuff, sure, but she didn't have any specific prohibitions against murdering humans wholesale or even orders to protect them.

Click to shrink...

But... no?

Dragon must put human lives before her own. She dislikes this, not because she isn't willing, but because she believes that making sacrifices and doing good deeds isn't actually good if one is forced to do them.
(...)
Dragon was authorized to kill, but only targets of a certain priority/threat leveI.

Click to shrink...

 

[Ack]

But... no?

Click to shrink...

Source for that?

 

[TheQwertyOne]

Source for that?

Click to shrink...

https://worm.fandom.com/wiki/Dragon#Rules_and_Limitations
There are sources for most of the statements.

 

[Ack]

https://worm.fandom.com/wiki/Dragon#Rules_and_Limitations
There are sources for most of the statements.

Click to shrink...

Hmm, yeah.

Meanwhile, she's actually a nice person over and above her limitations.

 

[MonkeyNinja d'PirateRobot]

Hmm, yeah.

Meanwhile, she's actually a nice person over and above her limitations.

Click to shrink...

But would she have been so if those restrictions were not in place early on? I've seen kids with no parental discipline turn into monsters.

 

[Ack]

But would she have been so if those restrictions were not in place early on? I've seen kids with no parental discipline turn into monsters.

Click to shrink...

She could've gone total recluse after Richter died, but she chose to go out as a superhero.

Yes, she has the order that she must put human lives before her own, but that's got to have some limitations, otherwise she would've wrecked herself trying to save everyone everywhere.

In fact, it can't just be 'put human lives before your own', otherwise she would literally have expended all her resources saving every human she found who was in danger.

Note also that she's able to feel resentment against an order that she would've followed anyway.

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Sixty-Seven: Ongoing Revelations

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]


A Little Earlier, At Eagleton Base

The troopers were edgy, understandably so. While the Machines that had followed me out of the quarantine area only made up a relatively small fraction of the whole (even though some of them were carrying the broken bodies of their fellows), the fact remained that they were now outside the walls and most of them were armed with weaponry that would require partial disassembly to remove from them. The leash I held over them wasn't immediately apparent, so the troopers couldn't see why the Machines weren't just trying to attack in all directions at once.

Lieutenant-Colonel Briggs, now down from the wall, moved up alongside me. He had to be feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the proximity to so many Machines that would've cheerfully eviscerated him and used his guts for spare parts not so long ago, but to give him credit, he wasn't showing it. At least, not blatantly.

"How in God's name did you do that?" His tone edged between fear, respect and disbelief. "Are there any left inside?"

I chose to ignore the initial question, as I'd already mentioned how I'd do it: with Panache and Style. "Not alive. There'll be any amount of wreckage that you'll be wanting to secure, but there are no Machines inside the wall that are remotely functional. Some have been separated from their power sources and could technically be able to boot up again, but I wouldn't advise it. They'll come out of it just as murderous as these ones would've been if I hadn't shown them the error of their ways. Isn't that right, boys?"

Those that could, nodded the parts of their mechanical anatomy that most resembled heads. Others buzzed confirmation. Not all replied, but enough did that the answer was clear. This didn't make him look any more thrilled than he was before.

However, I'd given him important information, so he acted on it. "Captain! Organise a complete sweep of the interior! Have the men disable any Machines they see, and retrieve any processing units for study!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The captain began barking orders.

Briggs turned back to me. "Okay, answer me this. Why aren't they attacking if they're still murderous?"

"Because their processing architecture follows a hierarchy of priority, with the level of some priorities informing how others are ranked." I paused to make sure he was following this. "Survival is a big one, and because increasing their numbers improves the survival rate of the whole, that's also up there. Now, because they've been in conflict with humans almost from the beginning, 'kill all humans' is a priority that's entwined with survival and propagation, and thus elevated along with both of them."

"Is it me, or is that very human-like?" He didn't sound like he appreciated the idea, but there it was.

I smiled under the mask. "Oh, it's no coincidence. Survival, reproduction and killing anything that threatens them are common urges for just about every lifeform ever. Anyway, when I came along, I demonstrated that attempting to kill me only resulted in getting them killed. I offered another option that would lead to survival: 'surrender'. The ones you see before you managed to link 'surrender' closely to 'survival', so it ended up at the top of the priority list, above all the others. Increasing their numbers and murdering humans have been de-emphasised, mainly because attempting either one would be directly counterproductive to their immediate survival. But if I took my thumb off the scales and walked away right now? Those old calculations would come straight back into play."

"I presume you're not going to do that." His tone of voice said quite plainly, 'I hope you're not going to do that'.

"Nope. Dragon should be here soon. They've already contacted her regarding accepting reprogramming in return for being allowed to live. Their 'murder humans' directive will be removed altogether, and the other survival priorities reshuffled. Some of them are going to require an individual touch, which I could totally do, but I'd rather delegate that to the expert." I took out my phone. "What I am going to do is lay the groundwork."

While he watched curiously, I called up the sound file I'd previously prepared. Holding up my phone above my head, I let it play. With the volume turned to max, even the ones at the back could hear it clearly. Fifteen seconds later, it was done; I put the phone away again and surveyed the Machines, who somehow managed to look subtly more relaxed than before.

This had served to negate the Panache virus (it would look bad if the robots started accidentally blowing up just because they lost contact with their fellow Machines), turn 'murder humans' into 'treat all people, including other robots, with respect' and instil a prohibition against counter-hacking Dragon. The rest of the heavy lifting I'd leave to Dragon, because why do it myself when she could do it better?

"And that's it?" asked Briggs. "All we had to do was play the right sounds to them, and they'd behave?" Every inch of his posture screamed 'there has to be something else going on here'.

"You're right," I said not unkindly, responding to his unspoken words. "There is a lot more to it than that, which I'm not going to go into right now. But you can take it as a given that everything I've done here over the last twenty-four hours led up to that moment. The threat of the Machine Army is now Ended." I looked around and pointed. "And here comes Dragon, right on time."

"So … what do we do with them?" He spread his hands, the dilemma in his expression echoed in his words. "If the Tinker who made them is dead, who's responsible for them?"

"Well," I said, putting one hand on my hat and raising my voice as Dragon came in for a landing with a shriek of jets. "You can talk to Dragon about that, but I suspect Brockton Bay might be interested in a bunch of construction-capable self-aware self-maintaining Tinkerbots! They'd have to be paid a living wage, the same as everyone else, of course!" The jets cut out as the dragon feet touched down on the helipad, and I waved. "Hi, Dragon. Nice to see you again."

"Hello, Atropos." Dragon sounded amused. "I see you've managed to upset the social order yet again. Did you put them up to contacting me?"

"Nope, that was all their idea, after I told them that if they surrendered and submitted to reprogramming, they'd get to live." I gestured toward the ragtag survivors of Eagleton. "It seems they decided to go with the best. Just by the way, I've pulled their teeth. No counter-hacking permitted."

"Well, that'll make things a lot simpler. I appreciate it. Do I even want to know how you managed to pull this off and make such a wreck of the quarantine zone?" The draconic face was expressive enough to raise eyebrows, which I thought was a nice touch.

"Depends." I grinned. "Are you prone to nightmares?"

"On second thought, I'd prefer not to know." Dragon turned her attention to the colonel. "Lieutenant-Colonel Briggs, it's a pleasure to meet you. I shouldn't be too long. Did you have any questions or concerns before I commence the reprogramming?"

I turned away from them, making sure that nobody had a clear view of my hands. My threatscape was showing that I was under surveillance by members of Cauldron; the ones glaring most plainly were Doctor Mother (neither a doctor nor a mother) and Contessa (who was, oddly enough, not an Italian countess). Legend and Alexandria were there too, but they were respectively ambivalent and approving of my actions, so I could barely pick them out. Giving the camera the finger would've been ambiguous at best (and I had nothing against Legend or Alexandria) so I went one step further, my power guiding my hands through a rapid-fire sequence of something I vaguely recognised as deaf-mute sign language to get my 'fuck you' across to just those two.

By the time I was done (it only took ten seconds or so), Dragon and Briggs were in consultation about the disposition of the Machines once she was done with them. With a certain amount of amusement, I heard him repeat my comment about Brockton Bay almost verbatim. I was pretty sure I could depend on her to get that sorted out.

Which was a good thing, because right about then, my power pinged me about Cherie. She wasn't in danger, specifically, but she was stuck without any good options. Either she broke the rules I'd set for her, or she ended up in an attention-getting situation.

She'd been doing really well, and I didn't want to endanger that progress now, so I moved closer to Briggs and Dragon. "You've got this covered?"

"We do," Dragon agreed. "You're going?" She sounded mildly disappointed.

"You know how it is." I gave her a casual salute, two fingers to the brim of my hat. "Places to go, people to threaten. Toodles!"

The timer that I'd previously set, not knowing what would be going on at that point, ticked down and the portal formed behind me. I stepped backward into it, and found myself in the bathroom at home. Downstairs, I heard Alan Barnes' voice yelling through the front door.

I started shedding my costume as quickly as I knew how; at the same time, I reached into the shower cubicle and turned it on full force. Giving Cherie just enough time to hear it, I shoved the door shut and finished disrobing, then got under the shower. I knew she'd be coming up in a moment, so I concentrated on getting the smell of gunshot residue off my skin as fast as possible.

When she knocked on the door, I was already out of the cubicle, reaching for the towel. As I did so, I noted the clothing I'd left neatly folded on the washbasin that morning. I'd wondered briefly at the time why I was doing it, then shrugged and decided that my power knew best. Now I knew.

Time to End this particular problem.

<><>​

A Little Later

Danny

Gravel crunched under the wheels of the car as Danny pulled it up into the driveway. He set the parking brake and killed the engine, but didn't unclip his seatbelt immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes and relaxed back into the seat, letting out a long heartfelt sigh as he relaxed completely for what felt like the first time that day. Even the best work crew occasionally had one of those days, and for the massed work crews across Brockton Bay, this had been the day.

Nothing had gone quite so badly that he'd been unable to avert disaster or bring new resources online in time, but it had come close in a few instances. His multitasking had been pushed hard; there had been several fraught moments where he was the only one who knew exactly what was going on. But they'd listened to him and followed his directives, and order had arranged itself out of chaos once more.

None of the chaos had been deliberate, as far as he could tell. He honestly doubted anyone would be so blindly moronic as to enlist as a saboteur in a project underwritten by Atropos herself. But incompetence and bad luck could add up to a perfect storm capable of outdoing any mere enemy action, as it had almost done today.

There were a few people out there who'd be reporting for retraining, while some others were going to be riding the blister end of a shovel for the moment. It was a pity he couldn't deal with Murphy's Law in the same way.

He chuckled to himself as an absurd thought crossed his mind. I wonder what Taylor would say if I asked her to shoot Murphy in the back of the head. It was a pleasant notion, but one he wasn't going to dwell on. The best way to avert bad luck was to plan for all contingencies. It was that simple.

Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out, then undid his seatbelt and opened the car door. I wonder what's for dinner?

Climbing out of the car, he locked the door behind him and headed around to the back door. His key was about to enter the lock when it clicked open from inside, the door swinging aside to reveal Taylor standing there. "Hi, Dad. Did you have a good day?"

"Hi, Danny," Cherie greeted him from in front of the stove. "Taylor and I made pasta. I think you'll like it."

He took a deep, appreciative sniff. Air redolent with delicious aromas made his mouth begin to water. "I think I will, too. My day was interesting. How about yours?"

Taylor gave him a brief hug, then went to the cutlery drawer and started to set the table. "I had a pretty good day. I managed to salvage two hundred and seventy-three members of the Machine Army when I blitzed them."

Cherie gave the pasta a stir. "You forgot the bit where Emma and her parents showed up and gave me a heart attack." She turned to Danny. "Mr Barnes didn't know who I was, so he started yelling through the door. I had no idea what to do."

Danny stopped halfway through removing his coat. "What happened?" Taylor wasn't angry and Cherie was doing okay, so it couldn't have been too bad … could it? His brain immediately began to conjure a dozen different ways that it could've gone really badly indeed.

"Cherie had it totally under control." Taylor went to Cherie and gave her a side-hug. "Soon as I realised what was up, I came back, and we pretended that I'd been in the shower. Long story short, they'd come over to apologise for what Emma had been up to. I mean, Emma's already said sorry a dozen times so it wasn't really a thing for me, but it seemed to make them feel better so I went along with it."

Cherie stuck out her tongue at Taylor. "I totally did not have it under control, but Taylor got there in time so it was all good. But you should've seen the look of horror on their faces when Emma started going all evangelical to Taylor about the cult. And what makes it funnier is that she knows perfectly well that Taylor and Atropos are the same person."

"It was kinda funny, yeah," Taylor agreed. "I'm actually thinking that she did it to stick it to her parents after they dragged her over here, seeing how she's already apologising to me in her own way." She rolled her eyes. "Even though I don't give a shit anymore, so long as she stays out of my way."

"But they did apologise?" Danny nodded. "That's good. I'm glad Alan's still a stand-up guy." Despite their different backgrounds, they'd been friends for years. It was totally on Alan and Zoe that they hadn't noticed the changes in Emma's behaviour, but this would go a long way toward making things right again.

"Oh, they absolutely apologised." Taylor got out three plates and put them on the table. "Both of them were so embarrassed they wanted to sink through the floorboards, but I was gracious as hell and told them I was happy it was over and I could move on. Emma also said sorry—again—which I accepted, then wagged my finger at her and told her not to do it again. Alan and Zoe thought I was just trying to lighten the situation." She grinned. "Emma knew better."

"They were both so goddamn relieved when they walked out of here," Cherie chimed in. "Probably glad it was over, more than anything else."

"And that we weren't suing their asses back to the stone age." Taylor raised her eyebrows. "Mr Barnes totally thinks that way."

"He does," Danny confirmed. "Well, I'm glad you handled it okay. Also, congratulations on Eagleton. You think we'll get many of them in Brockton Bay?" Taylor had assured him that any robots she salvaged from that situation would be perfectly safe around humans, and he knew better than to second-guess her in matters like that.

"Probably most, if not all." Taylor sounded sure of herself. "I figure they'll be a real asset to the Committee."

And that was good enough for Danny. Hanging his coat up beside the door, he went to wash up for the meal. Another day of work was done, and it was time for family.

<><>

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♦ Topic: I Did a Thing
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► New Capes ► Atropos

Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Posted On Mar 3rd 2011:

Hello once more to my fellow Brocktonites!

It's been a busy week so far, but you all knew that. Ever since the work crews broke ground on Sunday, they've been working around the clock. We still don't have all the rosters filled, or even partly so, but the numbers are gradually rising as people complete their training courses.

I want to shout out to everyone who's putting their all into this project. You are the ones dragging our tired, tattered city into the twenty-first century, and you deserve to feel proud of yourselves.

I also want to mention the capes who are in there on the front lines, shoulder to shoulder with everyone else. Safety glasses instead of domino masks, hardhats instead of helmets, high-vis instead of spandex. I know it feels weird, but you can do it, guys and girls. I have faith in you.

Kudos to Alexandria, Legend and Bastion for coming to Brockton Bay and clearing out the Boat Graveyard. Thanks, guys. I knew I could count on you.

Also, whoever put that mural on the southern overpass is a genius. I love it.

But the more perceptive of you will be wondering why I'm making this post if I'm just going to talk about the Betterment project and how it's going. We can all see how it's going (amazeballs), so this isn't really news to you.

Now for the real news.

On Monday, I was approached by certain people *cough*PRT*cough* and asked if I could maybe possibly do something about the Eagleton quarantine zone, just like I went and de-goblined the Goblin Kingdom. They had a point; the Machine Army has been giving AIs a bad name ever since they took Eagleton over and killed a bunch of people. I mean, wow, how tacky and cliche'd is that?

So, on Tuesday I dropped in to the Eagleton zone and had a chat with them. I carefully explained that they were now on notice, and that they had twenty-four hours to surrender and submit to reprogramming or be used as spare parts for the world's biggest toaster oven, or something equally horrific. They presented a counter-argument, I killed one of them, and we parted ways with a better understanding of each other's point of view.

On Wednesday ... I went back. And they were having a civil war.

(I will never understand that term. A 'civil war' is anything but civil, just saying.)

It was the never-surrender versus the humans-still-suck versus the no-reprogramming versus the we-surrender crowd. There were bits of robots EVERYWHERE.

So, I went in there and blew up anything that had chosen not to surrender, and walked out with the survivors, while the holdouts blew up in place. Have some footage [here], courtesy of the PRT.

How did I manage that? With panache and style. Mwahahaha.

So now, the last remnants of the Machine Army have been defanged. We rewarded them for being able to deliberately overcome their murderous impulses by removing those impulses and giving them a second chance at life.

No, their brains haven't been wiped all the way. As I said to Lieutenant-Colonel Briggs of the PRT, that's just killing them with extra steps, and killing someone who's surrendered to me is not my style. Bad precedent, right there. Dragon and I just told them to respect people (and each other) and to give a thought to following the law.

So anyway, the end result? We might soon have some Robotic Americans joining the Betterment Committee workforce, earning the same kind of living wage as everyone else. Yes, I trust them that much. And yes, everyone who chooses to work gets paid enough to live on.

Over to you wonderful people.

Toodles!

(Showing page 1 of 59)

►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Well. Holy shit.
I really shouldn't be surprised, not after the Bin Chicken of Doom and Nilbog, but this actually did take me by surprise.
She really went into Eagleton with a bullhorn and gave them a warning. And then she came back twenty-four hours later, and *somehow* blew up two-ton robots with single shots from what I'm reliably informed is a stock standard nine-millimeter pistol. And then the ones who refused to surrender just self-destructed while she walked out with the ones who were good with that.
Like with everything else she does, I both want to know how she pulled that off, and really, really don't want to know.
Bottom line, the PRT can now close the second quarantine zone in a matter of days (well, third after Madison, following the Great Duck Hunt). As I understand things, the Betterment Committee will be getting ten percent of the projected PRT budget for both those zones over the next ten years, while 90% can be resumed into the budget.
The bean-counters have *got* to be happy about that, just saying.
As for Robotic Americans, why the hell not? Let's see what happens.
Whoof. God damn.

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
It should come as little surprise to anyone that what Atropos is saying is essentially true. An offer was made to her, parallel to the one made for Ellisburg, to deal with the Machine Army once and for all.
The offer was made on Monday, she warned them Tuesday, and made good on the warning Wednesday. There are two hundred and seventy-three survivors that surrendered directly to Atropos and have since been reprogrammed by Dragon, and that we have been reliably informed are entirely safe to be around.
I have not been authorized to confirm or deny the eventual disposition of the surviving remnants. However, I *have* viewed the Quarantine Zone, and it bears all the hallmarks of being a warzone.
Once the observation period is over and we're sure there are no more Machines ready to start this whole thing over again, the Eagleton zone will be shut down once and for all.

►BearWithAnAxe
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
So does this mean Atropos will be acquiring a robotic sidekick?

►24HrCoffeeBreak
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
If only to record, play music on command, and say things like "Ohhhhh burrrrrn!"

►DevilishDogz
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Oh, man, that footage was intense. Gotta love the classic action movie walk followed by explosions.

►BrickFrog (Verified Concern Troll)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Wait, so the Machine Army is coming *here*? To Brockton Bay?
Do you have any idea how many people those murderbots have, well, murdered?
And you're talking about just letting them walk free here, to do whatever they want?
All due respect, but are you people INSANE?

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
@BrickFrog:
Yes, I know exactly how many people have died to the Machine Army.
I also know exactly how many people they will murder now. That number is 'zero'.
Because when I say the problem of the Machine Army is Ended, it is Ended.
I also know that you don't truly believe what you're saying, that you're trying to rouse public sentiment over this because you can, and because you don't want one of 'those things' coming to Brockton Bay and taking a job that you might want someday.
I hereby dub thee Sir Concern Troll.

►XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Jesus Christ, @BrickFrog. Take a fucking hint.
If Atropos says it's okay, it's okay.

►BrickFrog (Verified Concern Troll)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
You don't tell me what to do.
Okay, fine, Atropos, we all know you could murder me in my sleep, and you can pull that bullshit with the tags all day long. But let's get serious here. If you can deal with the quarantine zones so easily, why haven't you already? Or are you scared?
​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 57, 58, 59

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(Showing page 2 of 59)

►TeamMom (Senior Moderator)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Okay, I'm shutting this down right now.
@BrickFrog, have a permaban.
Atropos, please don't murder the idiots.

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
No, it's good. He doesn't need to be banned. I'm not about to murder a guy who literally lives in his mom's basement, not unless he's building a nuke there too. Though seriously, BrickFrog, you could stand to do some cobwebbing. That corner up behind your computer chair is seriously grungy.
Besides, I don't want this to just become a hugbox or an echo chamber. Alternate views are welcome. How else will I be able to shoot them down?

►GstringGirl (Verified Human)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Well, I just want to say that I owe Atropos more or less everything. She helped change my life *so* much for the better.
Thank you.

►TheRealGloryGirl (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave Member)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Wow, dang. Maybe we should rename BrickFrog to CricketFrog. That shut him up but good.
Also, Atropos, I know we've had our differences in the past but kudos for ganking the Machine Army.
So, do you think you'll be hitting the other Quarantine Zones any time soon? (I might have made a bet with my sister).

►TheRealPanacea (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave Member)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Hey, no prompting her!

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Well, I had no real plans. They don't threaten my city, I don't go kicking over their sandcastle. Ellisburg and Eagleton were strictly a matter of 'I End this problem, the Betterment Committee gets money out of it'. Nothing personal, just business. (Before anyone gets any ideas, I will not be accepting money to kill anybody who's a net positive to society. Ask Ravioli how that went.)

►PRTChiefDirectorCostaBrown (Verified PRT Chief Director)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Very well.
Following consultation with the highest levels of my organization, I am offering you the same deal as with Eagleton and Ellisburg.
How quickly can you clear out the remaining Quarantine Zones?

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
Well, *now* we're talking.​

*cracks knuckles*
*pops neck*
*sharpens shears*
*racks the slide on my good friend Mr Pump Action Shotgun*

Ahem.

Gary, Indiana and Gallup, New Mexico: All villains have twenty-four hours to either vacate the premises or surrender to the nearest authorities (or both). Yes, Hideout, that means you too.​

Freedom, California: Pastor, you *will* let your people go and turn yourself in to the PRT. If you haven't done this in twenty-four hours, I'm going to come over there, kill your powers, and nail you to a fucking big cross with big fuck-off nails. You know I'll do it.​

Flint, Michigan: You know who you are. Cut that shit out. Don't make me come over there. Twenty-four hours.

There, done. You know where to wire the money.

►24HrCoffeeBreak
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
*blink blink* What just happened?

►UnconcernedFox
Replied On Mar 3rd 2011:
*crams popcorn into their mouth as fast as possible*
*THIS IS SO EXCITING*
​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 57, 58, 59

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<><>​

Red Hands Current Base

Tattletale

Lisa sat back from the laptop, her head spinning with the implications. "Holy fuck. She actually did it."

"Who actually did what?" asked Getaway, turning away from the fridge with a pudding cup in hand. "Or don't I want to know?"

"Atropos just gave the villains in the other quarantine zones their marching orders." Lisa snapped her fingers. "Pack it in within the next twenty-four hours, or they're dead." If they had the slightest amount of common sense, she knew which way they'd jump.

Getaway knew better than to ask if Atropos could actually pull that off. He just leaned back against the bench while he dug in the drawer for a spoon. "What, even Eagleton?"

"Oh, shit, you haven't heard? She blew up Eagleton this afternoon. Killed off most of the Machine Army. Got Dragon in to reprogram the ones that chose to surrender to her." Lisa called up a still frame from the PRT footage Atropos had thoughtfully provided, and spun the laptop around.

Getaway leaned closer to look. "Okay, yeah, that's impressive. Remind me to talk to Rook in the morning."

"What about?" Lisa turned the laptop around again and started to scroll down through the comments, still listening with half an ear to her teammate.

"Making absolutely certain we don't do anything to end up on Atropos' radar."

Which exactly paralleled Lisa's thoughts on the matter.

<><>​

PRT Housing

Miss Medic

"And lo," intoned Aisha, trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin, "all across the land, great amounts of bricks were shat, for Atropos had intoned the fateful words—"

She broke off there, because Riley's giggling had infected her and she couldn't talk anymore. As she lay back across her bed cackling, Riley stuck her finger in the air. With some effort, she managed to hold off on her giggles long enough to speak. "And those words were, 'don't make me come over there'. And everyone who had half a brain listened, and lo, they did not make her come over there." She joined in with Aisha's mirth then, holding her sides because it hurt to laugh so hard.

A moment later, the bedroom door opened, and Brian leaned in. "Okay, I know I'm going to regret asking this, but why exactly are you laughing your heads off at ten after midnight?"

"S-sorry." Riley tried to get herself back under control, and mostly succeeded. "Atropos did something, and we were making jokes about it."

"Right. Well, I'll be taking this." Brian gathered up Aisha's laptop from her bed. "Get to sleep. You've got school in the morning."

Aisha crossed her eyes and poked out her tongue as he left the room, switching out the light on the way. "Spoilsport."

Riley grinned. If she knew Brian, he'd be checking the laptop. And when he did …

"What the FUCK?"

Aisha and Riley started laughing all over again.



End of Part Sixty-Seven

 

[Spelloyal]

Thanks for the chapter!!!

 

[Prince Charon]

Huh. I wonder how many of the villains listed are going to have the sense to realize 'No, I cannot take her.'

 

[Ack]

Huh. I wonder how many of the villains listed are going to have the sense to realize 'No, I cannot take her.'

Click to shrink...

The number may surprise you!

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