Chapter 77 - Grimmlands - Alternate Plans
Year VE71, December
Cover Art by Mi Chumi
In the basement of a now-vacant Grimmlands prison, Doctor Arthur Watts labored. A literal array of hard-light keyboards were linked to the rings on his fingers. Combined with his own custom haptic translators, it allowed him to manipulate data and code as if he had more than his mere two-hands at once. It was literally the only thing that allowed his physical body to keep up with his breakneck-paced mental processes. Before him, dozens of screens showed either remote views or live data streams of his current experimentation.
This was his preferred mode of existence. Not dealing with whatever rag-tag and small-minded 'asset' that Tyrian or Hazel had ferreted out. Nor having to deal with those idealistic and narrow-thinking idiots in the Atlas military and technology sectors.
And most definitely not playing chauffeur to the Queen's errant daughter.
No, Doctor Arthur Watts' natural habitat was the laboratory, be it computer, robotics, biological, or some melding of the three. People were by and large imbeciles at worst, or annoying and petty at best. People blathered on about ethics and morals and rules as if mundane and arbitrary limitations on intellect was somehow little more than the refuge of the weak-minded.
But code? Code did what it was told to. Code did what it was designed to do. Code did not ask questions, nor object to the data it was provided, nor argue that the output was unethical.
Which was the primary reason why he'd aligned himself with Queen Salem in the first place. She had been, in many ways, similar to computer code. She had been easily predictable. Practical. Unburdened by things like other peoples' definitions of morals.
As his hands and a portion of his prodigious intellect focused on the task at hand, the remainder of his thoughts pored over his current situation, and how he'd found himself here.
And what he'd do about it.
Queen Salem had come to him, those many years ago, offering him what he had considered to be a contractual relationship.
She would provide him with equipment, funding, and space to work undisturbed. She would not question his work, nor put any limitations on it. And she would, when the time was right, assist him in bringing their mutual enemy to heel.
Yes. Someday, the elites of Atlas would recognize him for the unfettered genius that he was. Someday, Atlas itself would bow to him.
Or it would fall burning from the sky in ruin, punished for its rejection of his rightful role.
All she had asked in return was that he put his genius at her disposal at times. And he had found that in most cases, what served her purposes also served his and vice versa.
Compromising Atlas' military and telecommunications industries by subtly introducing design flaws into their primary chip manufacturing? Queen Salem had immediately approved of his proposal and had provided anything he had requested.
It had taken years of careful work to position himself where he was now, working quietly and patiently to set the stage for a single catastrophic master stroke. One that Queen Salem had indicated would come in less than a decade and would begin the process of rapidly isolating Atlas from the rest of Remnant. Leaving its rulers paranoid and ready to tear the Kingdom apart, given the right leverage.
Ripe for further manipulation. Ripe for a savior to appear or for their final ruin. The choice would be theirs.
Of course, there were other barriers to that glorious future. They would need to also cripple the global network of Huntsmen and Huntresses, and the Academies that produced them. And they would need to provide suitable levels of Remnant-wide chaos and enemies beyond simply Grimm.
And so he and the Queen's other agents had toiled on what he considered "supporting efforts". Identifying the current Maidens and preparing to coopt or replace them with more malleable candidates. Compromising or isolating the Academies. Gradually undermining cooperation and trust between the Kingdoms. Fomenting prejudice between humans and faunus. All had been laid out in a careful roadmap years ago.
A year ago, he would have been confident that things were well on track. They had one of Ozpin's most valuable agents imprisoned, Lionheart was ripe for the picking, there was increasing tension between the faunus and humans in both Atlas and Mistral. They had even identified a half dozen young women who, with the right incentives, could be both coaxed into taking Maiden Powers, and manipulated into serving Queen Salem afterward.
And then… that roadmap suffered something akin to a traffic snarl. Queen Salem's direct orders began to fall off. Her attention became more unfocused, except in one specific matter.
Selene.
Every time he turned around, it was Selene this, and Selene that. Selene meddling. And aftwerward… no punishment. Nothing.
He grumbled when a soft ping sounded from off to the side, indicating that a person of interest was receiving a scroll call somewhere in Remnant. He had a few hundred of these flagged for immediate notification. Some would notify him of any call made to or from, though these were very few targets in number, as it would have been excessively annoying to be constantly notified because someone was feeling overly chatty. Most were limited to very specific algorithmically determined calls involving two or more targets. For example, the CEO of ATT to a specific Atlesian Councilmember, or a specific member of the Mistralian Council receiving a call that originated from within the Schnee Dust Company. He'd been unable to directly compromise the highest levels of the SDC's communications so far, they were excessively paranoid, and he wouldn't dare to tip his hand by tagging high-level Academy communications. But he could get some of those indirectly.
But a direct flag? For example on a scroll used by Hazel Rainart or Tyrian Callows? Well it paid to keep oneself abreast of what ones inferior coworkers were up to.
But not right this moment. Frowning, he gestured with a pinky finger, the conversation was archived for his future review, and he continued with his more pressing work.
He was, he felt, nearing a breakthrough on something powerful and novel. Something that might, perhaps, grant him future leverage with Queen Salem.
Which was why it was not until hours later, when hunger drove him from his lair, that he set his work aside and bothered to review the recording.
. . .
"Gods damn it," Watts swore after he had reviewed the recording once and made his way upstairs to prepare a meal.
It had been Selene, again using Hazel's scroll to relay a message, via Seer, to the Queen. A message that put him in a foul mood.
For months he'd tracked the sporadic pings of Amber Quick's scroll as it moved into and out of range of CCT relays throughout northern Vale. For weeks he'd used that data to build a comprehensive mathematical model that would, with reasonable certainty, predict her movements.
He'd begun this work at the Queen's behest over a year ago.
He'd then brought his data to her, demonstrating his ability to, given data and time, track practically anyone who exposed themselves to the all-pervasive CCT Network. He had been rightfully proud of his achievement.
And now, Selene had informed the Queen that Amber Quick was now "aligned" with her and was returning to Vale of all places.
And… based on Salem's response over Seer-Scroll relay, the Queen was… satisfied with this turn of events.
Arthur Watts had scoffed when originally informed that Selene was to be 'given her own head' in the wide world.
He had laughed and mocked Hazel when Salem had informed them that Hazel's efforts with Lionheart had been supplanted by whatever in the hells Selene had been up to.
And he'd shrugged when he'd been informed that the Huntress Rose, broken thing that she was, was also no longer a priority.
But this…
As he prepared the evening feast and reviewed the recording on one of his scrolls, he became more sure by the minute that a Seer would soon be in his presence, allowing Queen Salem to communicate her revised expectations to him.
And within the hour, he found his fears fully realized.
. . .
His needlessly but deserved gourmet meal nearly finished, Watts sat in the galley of the Grimmlands once-prison, sipping a rather expensive vintage that had complemented the food perfectly. His olive-green eyes were staring off into the distance, his mind bent fully toward its new task.
"It's clear that the situation has changed. Queen Salem's priorities have shifted. She is… setting aside years, perhaps decades of planning," he muttered.
And I know why. Queen Salem has become enamored of her daughter's play-pretending. The Queen has become distracted.
Therefore, it is up to me to press forward. To present the Queen with an opportunity that is too acute, too blatant in its immediacy, to allow further… waffling.
"Perhaps it's time I ceased waiting for orders, and focused on setting wheels in motion," he said softly, then glanced around carefully, and in a louder voice added, "for the Queen's long-term benefit, of course."
It never hurts to be prudent.
He drained his glass and sighed. "But first, I need to complete Trial 5A and evaluate synaptic sensory emulation fidelity. That is the key here."
. . .
Returning downstairs through the Bullhead garage, Watts strode along a hall that Selene, were she there, would have found very familiar. At the end of that hall stood a room with a now-repaired power transformer and an empty machine frame, once home to the Aura Shield Grimm component. Its state was of no concern at this time.
Selene would have also found the room he turned into before reaching the end of the hall familiar. The tables and workbenches were strewn with mechanisms and weapons in various states of disassembly or assembly. Sundered Rose no longer sat on one workbench, however, but was instead hung from a rack on the wall.
What would have surprised Selene, as well as Visha, was the manner in which he gestured slightly as he approached the far wall, which caused a portion of it to slide inward and then to the side, revealing a spacious room lined with hard-light and solid-state screens framing a very large workstation on one end, and what appeared to be a separate chamber separated by hard-light on the other.
Soon he was back at work at the terminals, hands flying over virtual input devices and screens flashing in a manner that would likely be incomprehensible to most of Remnant. Harvesh would likely have understood it, given time, if he didn't immediately try to strangle Watts. Sophia would have been impressed and likely horrified.
For several more hours he toiled, olive-green eyes reflecting the light of monitors. It was nearing midnight when he stood and stretched, and then with a few gestures dimmed the lights further.
Leaving the attached isolation chamber the only one still illuminated. A thick sheet of hard-light barrier isolated the two portions of the lab. One that, thanks to the recent failure of the original power source and the debacle with the Aura Shielder, now included both redundancy and an independent power supply from the rest of the facility.
Because on the other side of that barrier, hulked something that was both powerful and unpredictable, unless his work bore fruit.
He eased his way to the barrier, fingers poised to remotely access the input devices and activate his myriad subroutines.
Opposite him, the dark hulk lunged, growling and slamming its unnatural flesh against the barrier, seeking to tear through it and into him.
"That's right, my little monstrosity. Show your teeth. I'm right here. You want me." His mustache flexed as he grinned.
As if it understood him, the thing snarled and drooled, and raked armored claws across the shield, causing it to spark as they dug downward. It did not recognize him, other than as being something to destroy.
"Oh my, you do have anger issues," Watts chuckled. "Let's see if we can improve your attitude." The scientist's fingers moved in a complex pattern, and fans nearby ramped up.
"Commence Recording. TRIAL 71VE1215-5A. Activate Lullaby Protocol 5."
Watts watched as the beast, an unnatural merging of Grimm and machine, froze in mid-snarl. The Lullaby Module, carefully integrated with the existing modifications implanted by Merlot, quietly began sending the equivalent, for a Grimm, of nerve impulses directly into what served as a central nervous system.
"That's right. Yes. Yes," Watts muttered with a smile as the cyborg Grimm eased back slowly onto its haunches, closed its mouth, and tilted its head slightly. "Pause Recording. Who is a good boy? Hmmm? Why you are." He turned slightly, evaluating the data feedback scrolling across a nearby monitor. "I knew it. Ah Merlot, you pathetic creature, you were so close. So close to immortality. And yet you lacked vision." He shook his head.
"Recommence Recording. TRIAL 71VE1215-5A results. Lullaby Protocol sensory diversion trial has been fully successful. Subject Beowolf-12.R4 responds appropriately to activation of module, showing zero aggression toward a clear Aura target. Proceeding to secondary diversion. Recording Complete."
"And now, my pet, let's see if you are… biddable."
The Boarbatusk did not like the cage. It expressed this by slamming into it, over and over, each time damaging itself. It would continue to do so until either it, or its constraint, ceased to exist. It wanted space. It was meant to seek and destroy vessels, not be confined.
Which was why when the cage suddenly opened, and it spun out into a larger space and then slammed into a far wall, it was initially perplexed, to the degree its tiny brain could be, at what had occurred, but not further angered. It almost immediately uncoiled, and examined its surroundings.
It was a larger space, but still confined, to some extent. That made it angry, its red eyes flaring. It sought an exit.
Or a target for its anger.
There was a vessel on the far end of the room. It prepared to spin up and charge but realized with some small frustration that this vessel had been identified to it and its brethren, years ago, by the Queen. This vessel was not to be damaged.
And that pissed it off further. It spun up into a tight ball, and began lapping the room, trying to burn off or express its rage. It could not destroy the Vessel, but it could destroy the space. Or itself.
It was on the third lap, caroming off walls, that it realized it was not alone in the room.
There was another Grimm in the room with it.
An odd Grimm. It was made mostly of the same material as it. White bone-like structures over dark flesh. But it also had… other material. Hard gray material on claws, across legs, and portions of its head. Material that reflected dully like the walls and floors of the room did. Like the devices that the Vessels flew through the sky in.
The Boarbatusk paused, examining it more closely. It did not feel the need to destroy it, though there were portions that the idea seemed appealing. But Grimm did not attack each other. There was no Soul there to drive that instinct.
From behind it, the Ensouled Vessel, the one it wasn't to harm, opened its mouth, and sounds came out.
"TRIAL 71VE1215-6A. Activate Lullaby Protocol 7."
Watts watched with bated breath as the modified Beowolf in the isolation room's red eyes flared, and then its head snapped to the right, locking its attention on the Boarbatusk, who merely tilted its head at the sudden movement.
Grimm did not have a fight or flight response regarding other Grimm.
Why would they?
. . .
And then the Beowolf leapt.
There was a momentary combination of screech and squeal, before the Boarbatusk's throat was torn out sufficiently to make sounds above a gurgle impossible. But the Beowolf was not satisfied with this. There was still substance left, apparently.
Over the next few minutes, the Beowolf howled and rent black flesh. Claws shredding the quickly dissolving substance of the Boarbatusk. Teeth tearing chunks out and breaking bony plates. It did not cease until there was nothing left, its brother Grimm having dissolved into nothingness.
And then it returned to its original spot, and sat patiently, waiting for its next command.
"TRIAL 71VE1215-6A results. Lullaby Protocol 7 redirect successful. Subject Beowolf-12.R4 responds appropriately to Aura sensory emulation, causing it to attack desired target. Possible further tuning desired to remove emulation upon reasonable assurance that target is no longer viable." With a gesture, recording ceased.
The Beowolf sat in the modestly lit containment room, eyes a low dull red, waiting for its next input. Watts' mouth stretched out into a broad smile.
In a sealed vessel on a shelf beside his desk, a singular eyeball floated in solution, anchored only by hundreds of filament-like connections that passed through the back wall of the vessel.
What its gleaming silver iris observed, none could tell.
[A/N] Thanks to recent reviewers Rookie80 and AtomicR4y!
Rookie80: Oh yeah, Rosso is going to be a key character in future chapters, so stay tuned and I'm very glad you enjoyed the map. I'll put it in the notes any time new images are added to that library. And yeah, word's going to start leaking out, but a lot of people will just assume it's an exaggeration right up until kids start applying to Beacon etc, and then like you say, Menagerie can play the 'uhhh dunno man, whatever?' card for a bit. XD
AtomicR4y: So glad you're enjoying it. I've got some very nice aquatic combat work drafted that I think you'll really like.
All: Sorry about the shorter chapter. I just couldn't find a good way to combine this with anything else, nor to expand on it without it feeling contrived. But there is a lot going on here, even if few word rather than many word. Can you see the potential plotlines that this chapter is setting up? Watts is using not only Merlot's research, but appears to be doing something with Summer's eye. *shudders*
I struggled a lot here, because I felt it needed to be here, but I wasn't ready to just have Watts spill all of his nefarious plans. Hope you enjoyed it regardless!
