Chapter 1771: 66
Chapter 66
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 conveniently 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
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