CoP 11: Forget Me Not

Author's Note: All right. To my fellow writers, a valuable lesson in etiquette: You do not control the story, the muse does. When she says "write", you write. When she says "I'm taking a vacation to Bermuda, don't call me," you're screwed. So, I shall no longer dictate to her when my next chapter will be written because when she's in a bad mood, oh boy, do I get the worse case of writer's block EVER!

Author's Note 2: This chapter is dedicated to ComicFan209, Emma, and Angelfish369 for your continued encouragement! Thank you to everyone who continues to travel along with us, I hope you are enjoying the ride!

"I'm going to do it."

"You know she won't let us go."

Bob sighed as he leaned against the bunk bed frame. "Yes. But if I can get her to think I'm on her side, I might be able to figure out a way to get us out." He looked at Patch, who sat quietly on the floor in his usual place. "How did you do it, last time?"

Patch took a breath. "Well, like I said I didn't do it alone. I had the aid of some WebSprites who were in as bad shape as I was. We were all mutually disliked by the Warden, but only I was able to communicate with him… well, myself and one other."

"One other?" Bob asked.

Patch nodded. "Yes. A WebSprite who still retained the abilities to speak normally but who could also communicate through WebSpeak. He was the one who taught me enough to get by while I was here, and who introduced me to those who would aid in my escape."

"He didn't go with you?"

Patch shook his head. "We tried to get as many sprites out as we could, but at the time there were too many guards. Myself and 10 other WebSprites managed to escape in one of the shuttles, but he stayed behind to free sprites from the inside."

"You told me you got the information to escape from the Warden. How did you do that?"

Patch looked at Bob evenly. "Those the Warden held in high regards," he muttered sarcastically, "were used for experiments. He tried out new "toys" on his favorites."

Bob shuddered as images filled his head of what those toys could be.

"He had a real passion for controlling others, but he did have one weakness: his love for the drink. One second, he abided too much. He got sloppy, didn't pay attention to what he was doing, and left me un-cuffed. I took him by surprise, released the others, and we… persuaded him to tell us the way out. Then we put him out of his misery."

"You… deleted him?"

Patch nodded. "Couldn't have him following us, or alerting the guards to what happened." He frowned. "That surprises you?"

It did. "I can't do that," he said after a pause.

"You might not have a choice, if you want to survive."

Bob shook his head. "No. I don't believe in deletion, and I don't believe in the no-win scenario. There's always another way." He began to pace the cell.

"It's not always that easy, Bob."

"I'll figure it out. Whatever happened to the other sprite?" Bob asked quickly to change the subject.

"He's still here."

Bob paused in his pacing, a frown forming on his brow before his eyes lit up in recognition. "Commodore?"

"Yes."

"But… he was going to come with us."

"The WebSprites who I left with formed a group called the WebRiders. They gather up sprites lost or condemned in the Web and give them a place to call home. Blackadder and I have been working closely with them, providing aid and support whenever we can. In return, they help us fight against the injustices we find across the Web.

"Blackadder promised to take Commodore to the leader of the Riders and bring back a small army to free the others and destroy Villanova for good. Commodore has been providing us the information on the guards, the power grids, the interactions of Constantia and everything else he could access to help us escape."

"And now Constantia knows he helped us."

"As far as we know, yes." His eyes bore into Bob's. "He may not be alive anymore to help us. If that's the case… then you might be our only hope."

Bob stared back at Patch, clearly understanding the message. "I'm sorry, Patch," he replied. "I will do everything I can, but deletion is out of the question."

Patch took a breath. "She took Blackadder."

"What?"

"While you were gone, the guards came down and took him." He leaned forward. "Just what do you think she's doing to him right now?"

Bob swallowed.

"Now stand there and tell me you can justify valuing her life over another's."

Bob flinched, dropping his gaze. For a moment, he said nothing, his mind chewing on Patch's words. He knew in his heart he couldn't delete her… it went against everything he believed in. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

Bob raised his eyes. "Take a life… and live with it?"

"The same way you will," Patch answered softly. "You must find something to live for, and fight for it with all of your core. Then learn to live with the consequences."

"What did you live for?"

Patch smiled. "My code. I wanted to give it up… but I couldn't change my formatting, no matter how hard I tried. Sprites were in trouble here. I couldn't go against my code." He gave a dry laugh. "I still can't. Look at me, I am a medic, for User's sake. I just couldn't stop mending."

Bob couldn't help but smile in return.

"And you," Patch continued, "you'll still go on defending. No matter what the cost."

Bob's smile faded as he considered Patch's words. "What if I'm not that strong?"

"You've made it this far, haven't you?" Carefully, Patch stood and placed his hands on Bob's shoulders. "Don't start doubting yourself now. Learn from your mistakes, and keep moving forward." He cracked another smile. "Preferably away from here. Far, far away from here."

"I second that."

Patch squeezed Bob's shoulders. "So… what are you going to do?"

Bob looked out the cell door. "Guard!" he called. He looked back at Patch and said with a quiet confidence, "I'm going to get us out of here." A heavy breath left him. "Whatever it takes."

/

"Back so soon?" Constantia purred as Bob was escorted into her chambers. "I knew you were decisive, but I will admit I am surprised."

"Where is Blackadder?"

"Who?"

Bob crossed his arms and glared.

"Straight to the point. I like that in a sprite." Constantia stood before him, crossing her arms in return. "He is otherwise detained right now."

"Let him and the others go."

"Not yet. He has something I need."

Bob stared hard at her before shaking his head in disbelief. "After you just offered to release them for me, now you're going back on your word? I don't know why you bother talking at all."

"As I said, I didn't expect you back so quickly," she replied evenly, unfazed by his annoyance. "And I intend to return him once I have what I want… however long it takes." She looked carefully at Bob, her eyes sweeping up and down his form once. "Maybe you can speed up the process."

Bob's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"How close are you to your captain?" she pressed, ignoring his question. She snapped her fingers. "Does he confide in you?"

"What?"

"Blackadder used one of my WebSprites to plan an escape. He could not have done this without help," she hissed quietly. "The question is, how much do you know about it?"

Bob's mouth opened to speak but his words were cut off by the opening of the door and the deposit of the red sprite at Bob's feet. Bob dropped to his knees and grasped Blackadder's bloody shoulders, turning him onto his side and gaping at the numerous wounds spread throughout his bruised chest and back. The captain gasped and grabbed at his head, a soft cry of denial escaping him as his body shook in pain.

The Guardian's brown eyes flashed up at the Warden, his voice growling in anger. "What did you do to him?"

"I did nothing," she smiled sweetly. Her eyes left Bob's to stare pointedly behind him.

Turning, Bob looked up into the black, dead eyes of the WebSprite, Commodore. He stood unmoving at the door, his arms resting calmly by his sides. "You?" he whispered.

"All of my sprites are loyal to me, and only me," Constantia drawled, calling Bob's attention back to her as she sat in her chair. "Commodore informed me of Blackadder's plan from the start. I ordered him to assist… in the hopes of figuring out where Blackadder received all of the secrets about my home." She rested her head in her hand, smiling softly at Bob. "I watched step by step as Blackadder revealed to us how the only escape attempt ever made was successful. Of course, I had the portal generator disabled on your transport before you all left."

There is no access code to the tear, Bob thought as he gently eased Blackadder into a more comfortable position on the floor, his hands cradling the damaged sprite's head. His golden eyes were open but barely coherent, shivers of pain racking his body in Bob's arms. Something was happening inside of him, pulling him from the present into a closed system of pain.

Looking back up at Constantia, he asked, "What is wrong with him?"

Constantia smiled. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way," she ignored him. "Once we secured your transport, he was supposed to come out and bargain. I wanted the sprite who led the escape from here. He wanted to be released. We would have accomplished both."

Bob glared. "You would have deleted all of them," he predicted.

"Of course. I can't let word get out that I'm getting soft around here, can I?"

Bob shook his head. "Then why did you spare us? Is this all some sick game for your amusement?"

She brought her elbows onto her knees and rested her chin on her knuckles, her face pulled together in an innocent gesture of curiosity, her green gaze resting on the bleeding sprite. "I thought he would come out bargaining for mercy." Her eyes flicked up to Bob's. "But I got you instead… much to my delight."

"I can't give you the information you seek," Bob lied. "I'm useless to you."

"Oh, you are anything but useless," she purred. "You want to save your friends, don't you? You'll do anything to keep them from harm… no matter the cost." She stared hard into his brown eyes, her green ones glinting like cold steel. "That is why I kept you and your friends alive, because a hero is easy to control."

Bob looked down at Blackadder to hide his grimace. She was right… and she knew it. His anger began to build as he spoke softly. "You told me no one would get hurt but then you deleted my friend. You told me you would let them go if I stayed but now you are letting him suffer." He shook his head, his voice becoming bitter as he stared helplessly at the bleeding captain. "If I'm always going to lose, why keep trying? How can you control me if I don't care anymore?"

There was a pause before a sharp clatter rang out beside him. Bob looked down to see a long knife resting by his boot, dropped by the traitorous WebSprite.

"Manual syntax error," Constantia said quietly. She nodded at Blackadder when Bob raised his questioning eyes. "We placed a small corruption in his processor, and now he cannot compile properly. You seem educated enough, I'm sure you understand how painful that can be."

He did. The bruises and cuts were just the beginning, micro-tears forming on the surface based on the location of the incorrect source code in his processor. The wounds would worsen as the body was no longer able to heal properly. Then the tears would go deeper, into the organs. Soon, dementia would set in, memory would erase, his body would begin to shut down… and then he would defragment.

It could take minutes for the error to cause complete corruption…

"So if you really don't care," Constantia continued softly, "you could just let him suffer. Dell, you're here because of him anyway, aren't you?" The fabric on her chair rustled as she became more comfortable. "Or you can show him mercy… and delete him now."

Bob stiffened.

"He might break and tell me what I want to know, but that could take a long time. Of course, by then, he would be too far damaged to repair by replacing the errored code… but why should that concern you?" She gestured her head towards the knife. "Go ahead, Interface. End him now. Show me you are in control of yourself. Show me you don't care."

Bob didn't move. His eyes closed and his hands tightened around Blackadder's convulsing frame, his jaw clenching in frustration as he realized he was trapped yet again by the cold-hearted Warden. She was always in control.

His head lifted when he felt her close, her movements so quick and light he did not realize she kneeled beside him until her face was inches from his own.

"You won't do it," she whispered to him. "Do you know why?" She smiled with anything but warmth. "Because your emotions make you weak, Interface," she answered quietly, speaking slowly as if to a child. "And because you will never be able to turn your back on another, no matter how much it hurts you. For this, you will always lose."

With one hand she stroked the side of Blackadder's face, now gleaming with sweat and twisted in pain. "Tell me what you know, Interface," she encouraged. "Tell me everything, about the escape, about the sprite who gave him this information… and I will correct the error."

Bob stared at his friend, his mind turning as rapidly as it could. How much could he reveal to save Blackadder without endangering Patch, the very sprite she was looking for? He couldn't trade one for the other… Constantia shifted beside him and he caught a glint from the knife as she returned it to the WebSprite.

'I can't delete anyone…'

'You may not have a choice, if you want to survive,' Patch's voice whispered in his mind.

With a mental shake, Bob cancelled the thought as quickly as it came. Even if he had the stomach for it, Constantia possessed the location of the syntax error in Blackadder's system, a disparity so small it could require reading millions of code streams manually to find. Not to mention Commodore might delete him right there for even trying.

Bob's breath caught. Commodore. The WebSprite betrayed them to Constantia, revealing their escape plans… But if she had wanted to know what happened before and he was loyal to her, then why didn't he tell her? What was he playing at? He must have seen Patch on the transport… why didn't he just turn the Guardian over to her?

Bob's thoughts were broken by a painful gasp. He laid his hand against Blackadder's head, stroking the tangled black hair in a gesture of comfort.

"Tick, tock, Hero," Constantia mocked gently. She gazed at him, peering deep as if trying to figure out his next move.

Bob felt the anger begin to erode at the hope in his heart. Despair was filling up inside of him, drowning out his belief that there was always a way to win. His emotions were eating away at his ability to think rationally, pushing him to do something rash, wanting him to do anything to wipe that smirk off her face, to get back at the sprite who betrayed them-

In a flash, an idea came to him. Maybe he wouldn't have to risk Patch at all, not with a little misdirection…

"This isn't about the escape," Bob spoke quietly, letting his voice be as deflated as possible, his eyes dropping in a gesture of defeat. "You don't care about how they got out. You just want to know what happened to your father."

Her hand grasped under his chin and pulled his gaze up to hers. "You know?" she asked, eagerness barely detectable in her voice.

"Yes," Bob answered, all fight gone from him. "And so does Commodore."

Constantia froze. Her eyes shifted to the WebSprite.

"Why do you think Blackadder approached him?" he glanced at the degraded sprite, whose reaction was nothing but cold stoicism. "He knew exactly who to go to regarding escape. The expert who helped the others.

"Go ahead, Commodore," Bob prodded. "Show your loyalty to your Warden. Tell her the truth." Bob noticed he was becoming edgy, uncomfortable with the Guardian's accusatory tone and the questioning stare of the female sprite.

Bob held his breath as he waited fro the WebSprite to begin denying everything… but he seemed at a loss for words. Constantia simply stared, something working deep behind her green eyes.

Between the two, he could see the lingering doubt. It was time to press. User, forgive me.

"Blackadder believed in you… and now he's dying," Bob glared at him, putting as much despair into his voice as he could muster. "I'm not going to choose between protecting him… and protecting you."

He saw Constantia's eyes narrow as she returned her cold gaze to him.

"You want the sprite who deleted your father?" He jerked his head at the WebSprite, placing sole blame on the sprite who betrayed them. "He's all yours. Have at it."

Constantia was silent, her face drawn in concentration. She looked at the WebSprite, who shifted nervously, his tentacle-like hands flicking in irritation.

Commodore did not look angry or afraid… merely confused. For the first time since entering the room, he spoke in a gravely, broken tone of barely discernable basic. "I-I don't know." A small amount of panic entered his voice. "Warden, did I…" he trailed off, the question evident in his tone.

Bob was surprised by the sincerity in his voice… and the clear uncertainty of the accusation. He seemed more upset than anything… and he kept looking to her for guidance… like she had the answers…

Like he was waiting for her to tell him what to do.

Bob's mouth fell open as he put the pieces together. "You're controlling him?" Bob asked her in disbelief.

She stood and held up her hand towards the WebSprite. "Log off," she commanded. He leaned against the wall and slid to the floor in a sitting position. Instantly, he was asleep. Constantia looked down at Bob, her face carefully controlled.

Bob stared at the now dozing sprite. "You programmed him with an enslavement code. He can't function without you." Bob's heart skipped as he realized the degraded sprite didn't betray them, willingly at least.

She said nothing while she walked up to her chair, her back to him.

His mind turned rapidly. She could be controlling every guard and WebSprite in the jail, putting them all into one mindset: her own. It made sense, someone so small and delicate in stature possessing the power to dominate such an aggressive environment.

But if she could control sprites… "Why didn't you just use the enslavement code on Blackadder?" Bob asked quietly. "He would have told you everything."

She remained silent.

Bob glanced down at his wounded friend, confused. Why go through all this trouble? Why force them to give her the information when they could give it up willingly at her request? Why didn't she just ask Commodore right then if the accusation was true-

DRAM.

It hit him with the force of a dropping game cube.

"Of course," he uttered. "You couldn't. You're using a Dynamic Random Access Memory code, aren't you?"

She turned to him, her face void of expression but her eyes giving her away.

Bob shook his head. DRAM codes were brilliant tools created by doctors to help sprites repair damaged memory circuits and were intended for temporary use. Newer models were supposed to allow complete reprogramming of memories for those with severe cases of memory loss or disruption… "But you didn't know the upgraded codes had problems," Bob predicted. "You reprogrammed Commodore into thinking he worked for you… and the malfunctioning code completely erased his previous memories."

"I missed it," she whispered, her eyes staring off into the distance. "I caught him trying to help others escape… I used the code to get him to willingly reveal everything he knew, but his memory was wiped." She looked down at the ground, her hands curling into fists. "I thought he came up with those escape paths himself. I never considered he had helped the first time…

"He made a fool of me."

Bob, seeing an opportunity to reach the sprite in her vulnerable moment, called her name softly. "He doesn't know that. He can't remember. It's over now. You've already taken his identity from him. He is powerless to you. Your revenge is complete."

She looked down at him, her green gaze seeming to look right through him.

Never taking her eyes from the blue sprite, she ordered Commodore awake. Without preamble, she commanded, "Delete yourself."

"No!" Bob shouted, but could do nothing as the WebSprite turned his knife on himself, and dropped to the floor before flickering out of existence. Only a small black disc remained of the elder sprite.

"Yes, Interface. Now my revenge is complete."

Bob's heart sank. Another one dead, because of him. He was sickened by the thought… and by the small amount of comfort that Patch was now safe.

Blackadder spasmed, a sharp cry leaving him as a fresh wound opened on his arm. Bob pressed his hand against the gash, attempting to staunch the blood seeping onto the floor. "Constantia," he looked up to her. "Repair his code."

The warden said nothing as she retrieved the black icon. She stared coldly at the injured sprite, all traces of her flirtatious humor gone from her face. "No," she answered flatly.

"You got your answer," Bob argued desperately. "The syntax error is killing him. Repair his code!"

"His life means nothing to me," she said, her voice low and empty. "Neither of yours does. You both can rot in Dell for all I care." She turned, dismissing them with such indifference as to not even call for her guards. She moved toward the adjacent room.

Bob stared at the sulking sprite, briefly reminded of a child who had lost a game and had no further interest in playing with others. In a matter of nanos, Bob had turned her carefully controlled world on its head and her ego wasn't taking well to it. Now she was withholding the cure for Blackadder simply out of spite. As much as he hated it, he needed her to be in charge again. He had to return that power to her.

Even if it meant he would paid for it.

He stood, and with three long strides, halted her departure by grasping her arm. Turning her none too gently, he pulled her body to his, his eyes catching her look of surprise before he pressed his mouth firmly to hers. She struggled only briefly then melted against him, her free hand wrapping itself into his long, silver strands.

After a moment, he pulled away. His face still close to hers, he stared evenly into her wide, green eyes. "Repair his code," he demanded softly.

In response, her eyes closed part way, their sight lingering on his lips before casually meeting his again. "You will stay with me," she stated, leaving no room for argument.

A slow smile, small but distinct, spread across her face at his solitary nod. As if the past few nanos had never happened, the playful sprite was back in Bob's presence, the interest of the game once again glowing in her green gaze. Her eyes glittered, and Bob had the distinct feeling that he had just made a deal with the devil.

"Guards!" she called as she pulled away from the Guardian.

Two of the four guards pinned the writhing captain to the floor while she walked over to a small device. Pulling a green and gold icon from a pocket in her top, she placed it between two metallic plates. A field of energy absorbed the icon and enabled it to float inside a small purple bubble. Streams of data flowed through the icon as it spun rapidly in figure eights. Nanoseconds later, the bubble burst and Constantia retrieved the icon. She knelt beside the red sprite, placed the icon on his belt and tapped the icon twice.

A purple beam shot across Blackadder's body, like the field of green energy that engulfed a sprite or binome when one Rebooted in a game. Instantly it was gone, and the captain's body stilled from his previous convulsions. His breathing evened, his body relaxed, and almost immediately the small bleeding wounds began to heal.

Bob heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the sprite's gold eyes slowly open and take stock of his surroundings. Thank the User. Stepping forward to help his friend, he was surprised to be stopped by the two remaining guards. They seized his arms and held him firmly in place. Before Bob could protest, Constantia stepped in front of him.

"Now for you."

She held up between her slender fingers the black disc that had belonged to Commodore. "I didn't want to do this," she said sadly. "I prefer you as you are, strong willed and defiant. But, now that you know, I can't risk you using it against me."

Panic began to grow in his stomach when he realized it was the DRAM code. She was going to erase his memory! "You don't need that," Bob persuaded, keeping his voice as calm as possible. "I already told you I would stay."

"And not make any attempt at escape? Oh, Hero, we both know you are much too clever for that." A great sigh left her as she pressed the icon onto his shirt at the center of his chest. "What a shame. I will miss your humor… but we'll find other ways for you to amuse me." Her smile turned predatory, her eyes glinting in anticipation as her hand hovered over the disc.

Megabyte flashed into Bob's mind, his feral grin sending shivers down Bob's spine as he pressed the launch button. Now Constantia was about to blast him once more into the unknown. No, not again! With a surge of strength fueled by fear, Bob managed to break free of one guard, swinging his arm around in a knockout left hook that slammed the guard into the wall. Turning to disable the second sprite, he was unprepared for the blow to the back of his neck.

Crying out in pain, the force of the strike dropped him to his knees. Through his hazy vision, he saw one of the guards who had held Blackadder standing over him, a baton brandished in his hand. The guard who hit the wall was back at Bob's side, grabbing his arm and twisting it painfully behind his back. The angle of his arm forced Bob's chest out, his head falling back in a grimace as his body resisted the unnatural position.

A gentle touch on his face drew his eyes open. The Warden leaned close, smiled, and her hand moved down to his chest. Bob's heart raced as memories of Mainframe clicked by, Dot's face appearing in every slide.

Dot…

Bob did everything he could to hold onto her image as Constantia tapped the disc, releasing its software into his system and overriding his memory circuits. He watched her cruel smile fade as he fell into darkness…