Chapitre 20: Wake-up Call – Chapter 19
Everybody knows about the Prisoner's Dilemma. Well, everybody thinks they do.
It's deceptively simple: two criminals are suspected of a crime, and they are given the choice to incriminate the other or remain silent. If no one betrays their partner, they both get a light sentence, and if they both betray the other (by tattling, heh), they get a medium sentence. The trick is that, if one betrays a loyal partner, the traitor goes free, and the heartbroken criminal who stupidly thought honor amongst thieves was a thing gets a [harsher] sentence.
On the surface, what you want during a Prisoner's Dilemma is to have someone loyal and devoted on the other side and then stab them in the back.
But that's on the surface, because humans are a tricky thing.
When the Prisoner's Dilemma actually shows teeth, it's when you [iterate]. If you trusted someone who betrayed you, you won't cooperate with them in further instances, not until you see them try to cooperate and finally decide to forgive them. Because that's kind of the thing being put on display here: cooperation, grudges, and forgiveness. Earning a reputation as untrustworthy is a very bad thing for your survival, being too unforgiving can get in your own way when people try to build back bridges, and being too trusting gets you a very harsh sentence in jail for a crime that may not have been that bad (who hasn't committed a federal felony from time to time, after all?).
So, the iterated Prisoner's Dilemma can be used as a mathematical model to study the possible evolution of trust and cooperation in human societies. There's a very cute website with it where you can tweak the parameters. Worth a look.
But that's the thing, isn't it? The lesson one takes away is that sentimentality, trust, and the willingness to forgive have their place as survival mechanisms that are actually vital for a social species. That short-term benefit is not the best choice when we take into account the long-term harm we are bringing to our community and how that reflects on ourselves.
The iterative Prisoner's Dilemma tells us to cooperate, to be good to one another. It's like a sappy Aesop fable with a bit of math sprinkled on top.
So, what happens when you take a man clinically incapable of empathy, mono focused on short-term gains as his default option, and who thinks he can cheat any system where there are two options, and you offer him to play a rousing round of Snitches Get Stitches?
That he will screw himself over.
Or, at least, that's my current theory.
I'm currently sitting on Coil's old chair, my pose carefully adjusted to evoke, without copying, his own predatory body language: fingers carelessly laced in front me, shoulders straight, head leaning forward… The works. I'm tempted to ask Taylor if she feels like wearing a tuxedo and getting strapped to a metal table.
… Mental note: inquire about metal tables with restraints.
I've have had, unfortunately, multiple occasions to analyze this room, from the bare cement walls only broken up by thin steel rails that give it a brutalist air, to the lavishly comfortable leather chair that Coil uses while forcing his visitors to sit on Ikea's most butt-tormenting furniture. There aren't bookshelves adorning the walls with leather-bound tomes that have never been cracked, though I'm sure he couldn't resist the temptation in his civilian life, because this is set to have one and only object of interest for the usually nerve-wracked visitor: Coil himself.
I hate this room and everything it stands for. It's a constant reminder of defeat, frustration, being a prisoner, a [slave]…
So, taking Coil's seat? Having him brought to me so that he can see how our positions have been thoroughly reversed? That's a power move.
A clumsy, idiotic, stupid power move.
That's the whole point, you know?
[Lisa Wilbourn delaying—]
I know. No need to remind me.
Still keeping my affected, languid calm, I press a button recessed into the mahogany surface.
"Bring him in."
The door opens, and a very pissed-off Hannah walks in, dragging a still groggy, unmasked Coil while looking like she's one minute away from having him trip down the stairs.
Still my favorite.
Without any further ceremony, she plops him down on the far too angular chair in front of me, cuffs him to the legs, and walks out.
"So, I suppose you're wondering why I've brought you here…" I begin.
Damn it. Monologuing is contagious.
"Not really. To brag about how clever you are?" he says with his own affected disinterest.
Well, it seems like we're on schedule.
"That's just a fortunate side-effect."
"Fortune is a matter of perspective, it seems." Not a trace of surliness. Just condescension, still seeing me as an amateur who may have gotten lucky.
Because the power play is clumsy, because I've had my only guard leave the room, because I'm apparently putting on this whole show to rub his nose in my victory.
Perfect.
"Well, of course. We can't all be winners." And now he bristles. But—
[Coil trying to appear calm, trying to discern possible advantages—]
Thanks, Power. Just more confirmation. Though I could've gone without the screwdriver through my throbbing temples…
I allow myself to flinch, and Coil—[Thomas Calvert] tries to hide his satisfied reaction.
"Already this tired, my Tattletale?" he says, between paternal and condescending.
I didn't hide the wince at my migraine. I do hide my visceral need to go back to white tiles and a teasing, caring girlfriend.
"What can I say? Not every day that one manages to topple a mastermind supervillain. I felt like going all out."
"Showing far more initiative than you usually would. Miss Hebert has been good for you."
My blood runs cold. My smile remains slightly mocking.
"She has. But that's not why we're here."
"Oh? Please, do enlighten me."
I swallow, letting out a slight measure of my nerves but not the actual cause behind them.
"Noelle Meinhart. What have you tried?"
Coil stills. Because this is the point where he can choose whether to keep talking and see what he can get out of this when confronted with an exhausted Thinker who's in over her head or to shut up and not give me anything, hoping for a better deal if he keeps the pressure up.
Gotcha.
Prisoner's Dilemma. It's a bitch to play against yourself.
"Why should I tell you?"
"I'm not gonna lie: the Protectorate have you in their custody. There's very little I can do to help you, but I can put in a good word?"
"There are no words good enough in the world. At least you could've done me the courtesy of trying to fool me, [Sarah]."
I don't have to fake too much my overblown reaction at that name used in such a context.
"You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I? If I'm already going down, it doesn't cost me that much to have your parents murdered on a contract set to pay after my disappearance. You know, I always thought you were the most dangerous, the one who may be able to strike against me, so it was only sensible of me to take certain… measures."
I grimace, rubbing my temples as a flash of pain goes through my face and doesn't quite leave.
"No, you didn't."
And he smiles and leans back, his pose as satisfied as he can express with his arms still cuffed at his sides.
"No, I didn't. But you just wasted enough of your power finding out that you're that much more useless in this negotiation. So, Tattletale, what can you actually offer me?"
No, I didn't, but I just made you believe you are far smarter than you actually are, and I'll thoroughly enjoy the look on your face when you find out—
[Lisa Wilbourn unlikely to enjoy looking at Coil's face under any circumstances.]
… You are right, of course, but allowances must be made for petty revenge.
Externally keeping up the charade and not showing my befuddlement at Power's intrusion (yes, Tay, I'm practicing that, believe it or not), I sigh in defeat and press a button carefully hidden under the desk's top.
With a grinding noise of cement on cement, a hidden passage slides open behind me. Because [of course] it does.[]
I'm actually tempted to track down the contractors and see if they've worked in any movies…
"Just like that?" Coil says after a dramatic pause.
"You aren't giving me much of a choice, are you?"
And he smiles that creepy, satisfied smile I always knew he hid under his mask.
"No, I suppose I am not."
***
It doesn't take long for Coil to give me an elaborate summary of everything he's done to take care of Noelle's little issue. Though, as Dragon (cringefully) said: there's very little that's little about it.
Yeah. It doesn't sound much better even when it's me who says it.
I mean, being a smart, drop-dead gorgeous, vaguely reformed supervillain only gives me so much leeway. Bad jokes are bad.
[Flirting tactics often involve laughing at prospective partner's jokes, regardless of actual hilarity.]
… Well, Colin didn't laugh at [that] one. Though that may have been due to the traumatized, centaured girl fully on display.
Anyway, everything Coil tells me basically amounts to this being an utter mess with no straightforward solution. His original plan was to test things out, find a cure in an alternate timeline, and then string along the Travelers for as long as he could until he was forced to actually produce results.
His current plan was to use Noelle as a suicide bomber against a target he would've painted as the culprit in the death of her comrades.
Lovely.
See? Prisoner's Dilemma, right there. This is why you iterate, people!
Still, as thorough as the reminder of how utterly unpleasant Coil can be to the people who have pledged their loyalty to him, he still manages to show off how resourceful he actually is. Toybox, for instance, has been thoroughly prodded. Panacea has been kidnapped, tried, and discarded. Power nullifiers from the shadiest mercenary groups brought along.
None of it has worked, but it will save me time hitting my head against a wall.
Which was the whole point, of course.
Well, not the [whole] point.
"So, this list of countermeasures in case of your capture is actually complete? I didn't miss anything?" I ask him, once again exaggerating how much pain I'm in.
"It is. I'm actually impressed."
[Geniality insincere. Undercurrent of frustration shown in tense parts of face usually hidden by mask. Coil likely trying to release stress in alternate timeline. Attempts frustrated by Tattletale's mocking in alternate timeline.]
Oh right, that's part of the plan. Because this is the timeline where Coil collaborates while trying to get a deal out of me that he believes involves my letting him flee through his escape tunnel. So I have to listen to him and pretend he's maneuvered me into wasting Power so that he has me at a disadvantage and in excruciating pain. Here he's more or less polite, even if he can't manage to hold back all of his seething hatred for the person who undid years of work in a single afternoon.
The other Coil? That's the one who decided to not cooperate, so he's basically stuck sitting there with his mouth closed, trying not to tip off an almost fully-powered Lisa who has committed herself to make him [very uncomfortable].
Alternate Lisa has the best lines. My agent sucks.
I mean, I'm sure that the point where Coil stopped explaining how smart he was in securing the services of New Wave's most incestuous member to clench his jaw and take a deep breath was the moment when she started listing how much better each Cobra Commander plot actually is.
I have been compiling that list for [months]! And she gets to waste it without me to watch the reaction! So unfair.
[Lisa Wilbourn's envy of Lisa Wibourn—]
Shut up. Don't try to pretend you aren't as confused as I am.
[Use of flowcharts—]
Oh, yes, just what I need: visual aids. Would you like me to prepare a PowerPoint presentation as well?
"Well, if that's everything, I would like to get my reward now."
Oh, right. I still have to deal with the worst part of the job. Seriously, alternate Lisa, you owe me so much…
"I… I guess it's only fair." Meek, a flash of distaste that appears to be carefully hidden, and then I'm submissively kneeling by his chair, unlocking his handcuffs.
And now he's standing over me, a sudden—
[Twist of hip, aborted arm movement—]
Right. He just wanted to backhand me so badly he almost did it on reflex.
Which… I mean, if someone should get bitch-slapped in here, it's definitely not me.
Bondage and hair-pulling are one thing. I draw the line at hitting.
Also, [eww.] Eww. [Eww!]
Why, brain? Why?!
[Lisa Wilbourn discharging tension through—]
Lisa Wilbourn is a moron! That didn't discharge anything!
[Lisa Wilbourn's growing self-awareness—]
Fuck you!
"Well, I guess this is goodbye, Tattletale," Coil, for once, usefully interrupts.
"Sure I'm going to miss ya, boss." There, fake cheer, disgust barely held back. It helps when you [become] the character.
"Oh, I'm sure you will," he says with a disturbing grin that translates to 'stupid child, do you really think I won't be making a comeback after I've had time to get back on my feet?'
Which is not a question I want him asking himself. Because this is far too good to be true, and he may realize that in no time at all now that he's not devoting his brain to trying to trick me into making a mistake with Noelle.
Oh, did I skip that part? Yes, our conversation has been fraught with all sorts of plots to make me inadvertently trigger the proto-Endbringer into a murderous rage through some failure or other. Really, thrilling material.
I mean, you wouldn't guess how much effort it's taken me not to yawn. The stuff myths are made of.
Still, each uncovered trap has made Coil ever more certain that my Power is being completely drained. I have let the last three slide so that he thinks I've finally reached the end of the line and I'm just putting up a front.
Not that far from the truth, actually… Stupid Jess, making things so much harder than they had to be…
But, anyway, this is the moment where Coil could have a moment of introspection and think, 'Hey, maybe if the Thinker [seven] (I'm uncharacteristically polite in my introspection, and I won't mention that other accursed number that also starts with an "s") has actually managed to dismantle my operations so thoroughly, I shouldn't be so sure I have tricked her instead of her tricking me.'
Which is why, when he passes by a certain section of the wall, I tell him, with my most 'butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' tone:
"Did I ever tell you about the time Cobra Commander managed to get himself an internationally recognized sovereign nation?"
And he snaps.
I can see him pause, debating whether or not he can afford to do this.
Then he pushes a specific patch of darkened cement, and an exquisitely crafted knife slides out of the steel rail next to it, ivory handle first, right into his hand.
Accord makes the best housewarming gifts. Also, Dragon, you'd better take notes.
"You know, my Tattletale, I was hoping to keep the other timeline secure, just in case, but… You're in no condition to verify I won't do anything like this, and it would be such a disappointing end to our acquaintance to not enjoy ourselves one last time…"
He takes a step forward, and he freezes.
Because that's when the second alternate Lisa has shot his knee off from the back after he cordially bid her adieu.
Really, being an alternate Lisa sounds like a great gig. I should look into that.
Especially if Alternate Lisa the Second, long may she reign, has fallen to her secret temptation and shot something off [other] than Coil's knee.
Well, the thing is, when you devote almost every use of your power to keeping yourself as safe as you possibly can be? Dropping a timeline after being suddenly shot by surprise becomes something of a reflex.
And Coil just trapped himself into the timeline where he pulled a knife on me.
Ah, but Lisa, I can hear you ask, aren't you, by the same token, trapped in the timeline where Coil has, you know, pulled a knife on you?
To which I would answer: just wait and see.
[Lisa Wilbourn talking to herself as if—]
Oh, come on, you're going to enjoy this as much as I am. It's partly your idea, after all.
Also, this is where he splits the timelines once again.
In one, he's going to jump behind his former desk, hoping to break line of sight and maybe dash toward his secret tunnel.
In the other, this one, he's lunging toward me, maybe hoping to get me as a hostage.
In both, and I'm not sure if it will be at the same time, but I'm crossing my fingers…
"Wha—aaaaaah!"
Coil screams in agony and drops to the ground, writhing in as much pain as the human brain can generate before finally falling unconscious.
Nociceptor activators. Don't leave home without them.
"Thanks, love," I say to the apparently empty room.
"Anytime," the voice made of a thousand hidden insects replies, sending a thrill of not-quite-fear and not-quite-something-else-that's-disturbingly-pleasant down my spine.
Really, Tay, we need to have a long, serious talk about the concept of scarousing. Horror movie night with you may be a [tad] too intense.
***
"Better?" Taylor asks, rubbing my shoulders while I sit in a normal chair in another room in this base that isn't as fraught with awful, horrible, alternate memories.
"A bit. I mean, the personal confrontation sure helped, but trying to fake like I was at his mercy once again… Not fun."
"I was talking about your headache, not your weird need to rub everyone's noses in your intellectual superiority."
"Well, if you'd rather rub your nose somewhere else—"
Colin coughs.
Loudly.
Ah, right. We have an audience.
… Not like [that!]
[Lisa Wilbourn's exhibitionism—]
You aren't allowed to talk me into further sexual fetishes! Much less while still making me wish I could give my skull an exhaust port.
[Colin Wallis specialty possibly—]
Ugh. No. Last thing I need is to let him literally tamper with my…
Brain.
"I'm an idiot," I can't help but mutter.
"Well, I didn't want to say as much, but…" Tay, my vengeance shall be swift and—[oh. Yes]. Keep rubbing that spot…
"No, I mean… Brain. Panacea allegedly won't do brains, and parahuman abilities are controlled by specific, non-standard neural structures, so—"
"So, surgery," Colin succinctly finishes my rant. Because, apparently, he hates fun.
"So your whole theatre back there could've been avoided if you sat five minutes to think about the problem," Hannah adds, apparently deciding she no longer wants to be my favorite.
"To be fair, I'm sure sitting in there, listening to everything that hasn't worked out, has helped me arrive at a different solution."
"I'm sure," Colin says.
"You don't sound that convinced."
"That may be because you've yet to say how do you plan to have us operate on an out-of-control parahuman who has both regeneration and a unique physiology, not to mention touch-activated offensive powers. A minor quibble, of course," Colin snarks.
And Hannah facepalms, something I'm not sure it's about him or me. Likely both, seeing as we're already close enough to warrant facepalming. It's a sacred rite of my people.
"Well, we could… Dragon, about your mind-machine interfaces—"
"No," a gentle, Canadian-sounding voice cuts me off.
"No?" I ask, as unsure of the meaning of the damned syllable as a boyfriend who very reasonably asked for a birthday blowjob.
"No. You're taking your girlfriend and going back to your hotel room. I don't want to hear about any of you till tomorrow noon, at the [earliest."]
"More like her girlfriend is taking her to the hotel. She's in no condition to—" Taylor joins in on ruining my fun.
"I thought we would buy a bike to celebrate—"
"That's it, you're delusional. See? You desperately need bed rest."
"Sure. Bed 'rest.'" Oh, Hannah's catty. I guess that dry spell—
[Miss Militia's dry spell—]
Shush. Don't ruin the mystery. Let's save it for a special occasion.
"It still seems kind of unfair that Dragon of all people is telling me to rest after a day's work."
"Would my opinion on the matter be more pertinent?" Colin asks. And everybody tries not to laugh because that's one spectacular deadpan. Or a man being very clueless.
Then, just as Taylor is helping me get up from the chair (which I don't [need], but I'm not about to throw it in her face—yes, I'm just being magnanimous and considerate), Dragon adds her own comment.
"You know how it is, Lisa: do as I say, not as I am."
Colin nods, Hannah raises an eyebrow, and I—
[Unusual turn of phrase. Dragon aware of Lisa Wilbourn's capabilities. Phrasing intentional. Hidden message in—]
Oh, another mystery? For me? With a hidden clue that you've managed to get past your own quasi-boyfriend?
See, Dragon? This is why you are my favorite.
==================
This work is a repost of my most popular fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/wake-up-call-worm.15638/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 85 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).
Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Power's intrusions into Lisa's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance
Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, Xalgeon, and aj0413. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and helping me keep writing snarky, useless lesbians, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone