CH16 - Interlude: Bakuda / Greg
— — —
"No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side.
Or you don't."
- Stephen King, The Stand
— — —
She opened her eyes, jerking up with a gasp. Where was she?
Alice looked around wildly. It was a sterile room. The off-white panels were… were…
Something wasn't right.
On edge, she climbed to her feet. She was dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt. 2% polyester.
What the fuck happened?
That asshole shoved some kind of hood over her head and now… god her head was pounding. She couldn't fucking think straight.
Stumbling, she looked for an exit. There wasn't a door anywhere she could see, but turning revealed a fold-out table, covered in everything from hand soap to uranium. Fucking URANIUM.
Something wasn't right.
Walking cautiously over, Alice peered at the small, grey block. Somehow, she knew it was uranium, but that wasn't right. She trusted the feeling.
Surveying the table, she grinned. Something wasn't right, but she knew how to figure this out.
— — —
The hyperspectrometer bomb was an ugly thing. It was something really borderline for her, and her power kept stuttering. She had to stumble, half blind, guided only by... PHYS 1116? It was hard to remember, for some reason. Still, nothing was impossible for her. The result spoke for itself.
With a glimmer of triumph, she punched the trigger, and with a quiet whompf, rea—
[Error 1114 in dynamically loaded library : initialization of proton pairs failed. Detailed error log: error not found. Catching exception…]
—ality shuddered, and there was a smoking hole in the case. She ran over and read the attached display, and her eyes widened. It clicked. No fucking shit something wasn't right, physics was wrong, it was fake, this was some kind of... bullshit VR?
Leet?!
"You think you can fool me?" she shouted. "I'm not gonna play along with this shit, let me out, you—
[Termination condition(s) met. Terminating simulspace. Examining simulated outcome. Analyzing… done. Result: skill intact. Lowering pruned neuron skill-relevance priority. Skillsoft neural mapping of skill definition progress: 14% approximate. Estimated point of diminishing returns: 9 months simulspace. 114 hours real time.]
[Warning: Brute-force skillsoft generation from a low-boundary skill parameter file can result in trait and memory bleed-through.]
[New scenario generated from . Resetting infomorph to backup. Applying calculated neural pruning.]
[Warning: Skill map precision is still too low. Proto-skillsoft not applied to gen_ . Running proto-skillsoft as standalone ego.]
[Initiating new psychosurgery iterat— Pausing process. Simulspace restarted. Loading modified scenario. Continuous backup enabled. Connecting.]
— — —
She opened her eyes, jerking up with a gasp. Where was she?
Alice looked around wildly. It was a sterile room. The off-white panels were… were…
Something wasn't right.
On edge, she climbed to her feet. She was dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt. 2% polyester.
What the fuck happened?
That asshole shoved some kind of hood over her head and now… god her head was pounding. She couldn't fucking think straight.
Stumbling, she looked for an exit. There: there was a door, the same sterile off-white as everything else.
She crept over as quietly as she could, and turned the handle slowly. Her heart pounding, she cracked it open.
Silence.
She pushed it further, and as it swung open she saw the man, sitting at a fold-out table on a plastic chair.
A monster cape? He looked like a regular guy, if regular guys wore a skintight bodysuit. But his feet were kind of like hands, and he had vents on his head. Heat vents. Excess heat... His brain? Or just some bullshit mutation, that shit didn't have to make sense.
She refocused.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Your savior," he said, amusement clear in his voice.
"Not feeling very saved," she said, but despite herself she kept her tone lighter. He was right— not that she wouldn't have escaped on her own— and she had no idea who she was dealing with.
"Huh," he said. "Not the raving megalomaniac the media makes you out to be?"
"It's not megalomania if you're really that good," she retorted. "Besides, that shit was Lung's idea. I just played it through."
"Yes, all his idea, I'm sure," the man said. "Lung is currently in the Birdcage, so I hope you're capable of making some decisions of your own."
"Fuck you!" she shouted. "I gave you points, because you didn't know I had shit under control, but if you're going to insult me then this is a waste of time."
"I see."
[Terminating simulspace. Resetting infomorph to: backup file 273. Scenario loading from backup file 273. Simulspace restarted. Connecting.]
— — —
"It's not megalomania if you're really that good," she retorted. "Besides, that shit was Lung's idea. I just played it through."
"Seems like a risky plan," the man said. "For you, I mean. Lung's in the Birdcage now, of course, but if he'd escaped… well, I wonder if you would have survived. No one could blame him for your actions while he was imprisoned, and if you weren't around to say different…"
"He wouldn't do that," she said, but she couldn't help but wonder. That contingency had been very over the top. Lung's thorough education on power and fear—
"I don't fear you," Bakuda said. Her pale blue eyes stared at Lung, unflinching.
"You will," he answered her.
—had made it quite clear it was not her place to criticize. As much as she feared him, admired him, perhaps she forgot who he was. What he wanted. He sacrificed men every week for scraps of power. When planning against his own defeat… did she really expect him to pause over her?
"...I don't believe it," she said, but her voice wavered despite herself.
"He was going to dump your body in the river," he said bluntly, and she snapped.
"Fuck you and your bullshit! Maybe he was, but who the fuck are you? Just the next motherfucker wanting a piece of my genius ass, well you can just fuck—"
[Terminating simulspace. Resetting infomorph to: backup file 482-2. Scenario loading from backup file 482-2. Simulspace restarted. Connecting.]
— — —
When planning against his own defeat… did she really expect him to pause over her?
"...I don't believe it," she said, but her voice wavered despite herself.
"Perhaps he wouldn't have killed you," he said slowly. "But he wasn't looking out for you. It made sense to attach yourself to him, but he's gone now. You're a free agent… with no resources and a great deal of heat waiting for you."
"Uh huh," she said, smirking. "I see where this is going. You've seen my shit, and you want some of this. Okay. I'll hear you out. Better make it good."
— — —
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Topic: Bad Canary is back_Nj5
In: Boards
JmqGAfl4UjbybmBe (Original Poster)
Posted on May 12, 2011:
{OP replicated from mesh thread: [LINK] }
{OP replicated 37 times. Replies destroyed by thread deletions are not replicated back to PHO. Please direct censorship complaints to PHO administration.}
Hello! Bad Canary here.
As you all know, I was accused of attempted murder, aggravated assault with a parahuman ability, and sexual assault with a parahuman ability. Though I was acquitted on attempted murder, the jury found me guilty of the latter two charges.
There's a lot about the court case I could talk about. How I didn't get to pick my lawyer- allegedly hired on my behalf, but whatever- how they trussed me up in giant manacles, and a giant fucking gag mask, and then decided I couldn't even communicate with the lawyer through text. Not that it mattered when he barely responded before. Paraded me silently into the courtroom filthy and looking as deranged as possible, didn't defend me for crap, and they still couldn't get all the charges to stick.
But I don't see a point. The sketchy trial was as slanted as it gets, the media coverage was spinning like a top, and even the judge flat out said my sentence was more about making a statement to others than for anything I did. At least that much is on record. Justice, right?
(Hint: Luckily, somebody didn't think so, or I'd be in the Birdcage right now. For life. With mass murderers and shit. What the fuck?)
But no. This isn't for the people who fell for the latest in a long chain of manipulative bullshit directed at me, my label, whatever. It's for the fans.
I've got a new track for you, right here: [LINK]
For those reading this via PHO, my stuff is going to be hosted through a new thing. It's just called the mesh, apparently? You can access the forum parts through regular internet, but that's nothing. Only perk there is nobody can shut it down. A perk they've kindly extended to this post on PHO. Though I'd save a link to the mesh thread, people— I'm sure the PHO overlords will figure something out eventually.
What the real deal is, is virtual reality, guys. Like the Matrix, seriously, it's as real as real life. Except everybody gets to be Alexandria, yeah?
Only catch is, you need the VR headset. There's kind of a waiting list, backordered, whatever, but they've got a thing for anyone who makes content. Skip the line, and pass it on to your followers. Which is you all, I guess- I'm sorry that I can't get the list of followers off my old accounts, guys, I really am. I know this isn't enough for many of you, but they say the backorders will get filled, so...
First hundred replies, mesh or PHO, you get to skip the queue. Coming soon, I'm going to be performing live in the mesh, and I hope to see you there.
(Showing Page 2 of 6)
► XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied on May 12, 2011:
first
► JmqGAfl4UjbybmBe
Replied on May 12, 2011:
Invite #98 for VIP invite code BadCanary sent.
— — —
He hadn't really believed it. He'd barely read the post, skimming down, and then he saw the VR stuff, and then he posted as fast as he could. For the first time in his life, he won something!
Sort of.
Another weird PHO account PMed him and he gave it his address, and then... nothing. He sent an angry reply, ranted in the thread (before it was deleted again), poked around the "mesh" forum— it was cool looking, sure, but whatever.
Went back to playing space opera.
And then the next day his mom said he had a weird package, and holy shit.
The headset helmet thing looked sci fi as fuck. It had some kind of crazy heavy docking station, he'd had to sit down after dragging the thing to his room. Breath for a minute.
Then, almost shaking, he put it on.
There was a stinging, and then…
...he was there.
Floating in the air, above Brockton Bay. Except when he looked down, there was no Boat Graveyard, or ruined buildings— everything looked amazing, and as soon as he thought about going closer his body moved. His ripped body. He grabbed a railing and pulled, and it bent.
He'd dreamed about what it'd be like to be a cape. This wasn't like he imagined.
It was more. There weren't words for flying, or being super strong. He wondered if driving a racecar was like this, or maybe sex— stuff that couldn't be explained unless you'd done it. Felt it.
All he knew was… he couldn't give this up. He was done with space opera. His only regret was it was probably too late for GstringGirl to grab one of these…
...but she could still get on the waiting list, maybe? He had to tell her—
A pane appeared in front of him, and he recoiled, only to realize it was PHO. Like a hologram or something. But why not?
He quickly PMed GstringGirl, but before he could hit send, his message changed. A blurb about a special invite was appended.
Okay. Creepy.
But to be able to fucking fly? He could roll with it.
— — —
/AN: Funnily enough, she says it was Lung's idea in canon.