Snake took a deep breath as he once again stepped out of the Blackhawk, and stood on Mother Base. After a few days of talking with the Polish President, it was ultimately decided the Poles would handle the rescued children. Snake didn't oppose as some of the kids still had family alive somewhere, and the Polish Government would have a far easier time locating them than the unheard-of mercenary group.
After those discussions, President Nowak was called by Madam President of the HPSC. That was alarming, but Nowak said he had it handled. Snake wasn't entirely sure, that was until Nowak made several promising deals. Of the deals made, Snake managed to get the most Nowak to agree to the most important one, recognition of Outer Heaven as a country, and a few other things. Coming back to reality though, Snake lit up a cigar and looked out at the surrounding ocean waves.
A few minutes later, and with only the stub of his cigar left, he saw Miller walking over to him. Snake took one look at what Miller was carrying and immediately gained a headache.
"Snake, glad to see you made it back soon. That meeting with President Nowak?" Miller asked as he tried to look around the massive pile of documents.
"Went off without a hitch," Snake replied.
"Good, seems we can get started then," Miller stated.
"Started on what?" Snake asked, secretly loathing the question. Miller seemed to share his annoyance, however, it was better hidden with the sunglasses.
"We need to work out a government structure for Outer Heaven," Miller answered, leaving Snake to grumble in response.
"Is this really necessary Kaz?" he asked.
"Do you know how to farm?" Miller asked in turn.
"No, why?"
"Do you know how to manage a mine?"
"Again, no."
"Create a tax code?"
"Kaz, no. Where are you going with this?"
"No one else in the MSF knows how to either. Yet we're expecting to start a country when we know little about governing. So, if we need people to farm, and we have no knowledge of farming, then we could accidentally create another Great Leap Forward," Miller explained. And Snake began connecting the dots. He didn't like it, but the MSF couldn't do everything. They needed to do the hardest part of building a nation, building its rules and systems.
"Alright, I get it," Snake relented. This was going to be a very long day he determined, as he grabbed another cigar from his bag.
"Assemble the command staff, have them ready in half an hour," he ordered.
"Already done," Miller replied as he picked the documents back up. The two began to walk off towards the main command room. It was a short walk, and Snake found all of his officers assembled. Once Snake entered the room fully his eyes fell on the room's main table. What used to be a large wooden table with maps and a few computers, now had a metal table built into the floor. Its top was a glass display with a dark blue hue illuminating its center. Curious, he put his hand on the table and watched as it quickly illuminated like a screen.
"Neat huh," Miller commented, "Something R&D was working on. Took the holograms from the Idroid and built it into a large tactical display."
Snake was impressed. There wasn't anything on the hologram yet, but with a shift of his hand, it switched over to a 3D topographical map. He assumed it was somewhere in Africa since sets of small green and red dots covered portions of the map, which he inferred as friendly and enemy forces. He flicked his hand to switch it back over to the previous form, only for it to switch to a rendering of a prototype helicopter. He tried again but it switched to an overview on the status of ZEKE.
"Seems it still needs a little work," he stated, before turning over to the two heads of R&D. Soul wrote down the event in a small notebook, while Strangelove was busy inspecting a document Miller had passed out.
"We'll get to it soon," Soul told him.
"Time to get started then," Snake commented before taking his seat at the table. Seeing that the table wasn't fully working Miller wheeled out a pair of whiteboards.
"So, first things first, what system of government should we choose?" Miller asked, setting up a few categories on the board as he did so.
"Anybody for democracy?" one officer asked.
"I'd say so. At the very least it would give the refugees some trust in us," Soul stated with a few other officers nodding with him.
"Hold on, if we do that we're giving up a lot of control contract-wise," the newly appointed General Cobra argued, to which a few voices agreed with him.
"You think the people shouldn't have a say in it?" Soul asked, a little confused.
"No, it's just what if there is somewhere we need to be, but aren't allowed to respond because some pompous big wig voted so," Cobra answered. And everyone in the room could see his point. If the MSF got a contract for some humanitarian aid mission, and the people voted no, then there would be nothing they could do.
"Do we even still need contract work?" one officer commented, "I mean we're building a nation, I'm pretty sure the amount of money we'd make from it would be five times as much compared to a contract."
"It's not about money," Snake interjected, "It's about policy. If this works, then we'll essentially be a country for hire. If someone needs our services to topple a tyrant or assist in natural disaster relief then we're available."
They would have a country's worth of resources at their disposal, allowing them to see the Boss's will to fruition. If some country or people needed aid the MSF would be available for hire.
"I guess that's fair. Still, we shouldn't have one set of people deciding how everything happens," Soul told the group.
"Agreed, but there has to be some kind of middle ground," Cobra replied.
"What if we keep the MSF and government separate? We would still be in charge, but the military leaders would stay out of the political aspect unless it's necessary," Snake stated. His proposal was a little more complicated than that. After all, there would be a mixing of politics and the military if a draft was ever needed. But it was a solution. The MSF didn't have any experience in civilian politics and tax codes. While the politicians did not know about military affairs or MSF operations.
"That does give some leeway on contracts," Cobra commented as he thought the proposal over.
"Should keep the civilians happy too," Soul agreed.
"So, democratic civilian government, with the MSF as a private entity but still in charge," Miller commented writing down what had previously been said.
"We'll cover the complicated stuff later, all we need now are the basics," Miller stated as he quickly addressed the officers. The more in-depth things such as the balancing of powers and branches of government could be dealt with later. Those would take far longer to deal with after all.
"Basics huh? In that case, we may want a free market economy," one officer stated.
"I don't know. If we give up weapons manufacturing to independent companies, we may have a military-industrial complex on our hands," a different officer countered.
"We'll well still have the R&D team for weapons. I just mean more along the lines of civilian goods. I mean do any of us here know how to make a video game? Cause I'm pretty sure R&D won't make one," the first officer explained.
"Ah, never mind then," the officer replied.
"Besides, a little competition might give the egg heads a run for their money,"
"As if."
"Seems Miller's Maxi Buns will come to fruition after all," Miller muttered to himself as he wrote down the ideas on the board.
"You better not use MSF funds for it," Snake commented, to which Miller distinctly looked away from him.
"You already did, haven't you," Snake accused.
"That may have been what last week's grill was for," Miller replied sheepishly. The event had improved morale, but it was more of a cover to sneak in equipment for a fast food joint.
"Of course it was," Snake muttered in response. He had been unable to attend due to negotiations, but now he believed that to be a good thing.
"Back on topic, what about citizenship?"
"Service-based," Snake stated, "We can't afford to accept every single refugee with current resources. So if they want refuge they need to be willing to work."
"Isn't that a bit cruel Boss? I mean we're just sending them from one warzone to another," Soul reasoned.
"They don't have to serve in the Combat Teams. They could take up a logistical department. We do need more construction workers, truck drivers, mechanics, electricians, and things like that. Not to mention it would give much-needed skills to some of the younger refugees," Snake explained.
"That would help build up a stable economy once they enter civilian life," Miller agreed, "Not like the warlords provided schooling either."
"Still, every refugee?"
"Well, not the old, frail, and kids," Snake replied.
"So then how would they become citizens?" Soul asked. Snake thought about it for a second before finding a flaw in his idea. The young could become citizens eventually, but the old wouldn't be able to. Anyone above the age of thirty-five or forty would have none of the benefits the young would.
"What if we did a test?" Miller suggested.
"But a test on what? The history for a country that started a few months ago?" Snake countered as he saw yet another flaw in the idea.
"Hmm, how about this," Strangelove began, "Citizenship for the refugees already under our care. New ones that arrive will be able to earn citizenship through one year of service in the MSF, while those unable to serve can participate in a sort of community service."
"That could work. We could have them do smaller jobs for a year, cleaning the streets, delivering mail, helping the environment," Snake stated as the prospects of the idea came forward.
"So, it's decided then?" Kaz asked, with the room quietly nodding in response.
"You violated my country's sovereignty!"
"Because you wouldn't do your damn job!"
"How many times do I have to tell you, this Showstoppers organization doesn't exist!"
"They kidnapped my daughter and had an active military base inside your country! And you continue to argue they don't exist!?"
"Even if they did, that does not give you the right to illegally send mercenaries into my country!"
"Someone had to do something about them because you sure as hell wouldn't!"
"Then maybe we should do the same! Don't think I didn't notice those insurgents hiding behind your borders!"
"What insurgents! You mean the refugees fleeing your shit hole of a nation!"
"Enough!" Madam President shouted. The entire argument was giving her a headache. Currently assembled, were the leaders of Poland, Russia, Belarus, and all respective parties' security details. When the Moscow Wolves had reported additional enemy contacts after engaging the MSF, Madam President had wanted to believe they were just the MSF's reinforcements. To her horror, they were instead Poland's Hussars, one of the country's top hero groups. It got even worse when more information was revealed of what was going on, and that Poland had hired the MSF.
It didn't take long for both Russia and Belarus to see what was going on as well. Especially once they found the burning wreck that was the Showmaster's base in Siberia. Now tensions were at an all-time high as Russia threatened a potential invasion. This would be bad, as Russia was one of the few remaining nations that kept an active military, along with Belarus. Its ranks were much smaller publicly, but that's because the real number was kept a secret.
And now the only thing holding an invasion back was Madam President's interference. It had taken billions of dollars to convince the country's oligarchs to stand down, and billions more to convince their President to agree to negotiations. But those were going nowhere.
"President Nowak, you were aiding and abetting a villain organization. At this very moment any of the actions you claim as just are now in question."
"Villain organization!?" the Polish President exclaimed in outrage, "I don't see any of your heroes dealing with this issue! As far as I'm concerned the MSF are heroes!"
"We were going to handle it."
"When? The Showstoppers have been a plague on Europe for years now, with barely anyone in the media covering this damn issue! Do you mean to tell me, that my administration should have stood by?"
"Yes, your actions have risked all of hero society. It's a miracle none of the press managed to learn of your heroes' squabble. This can ultimately be fixed, but only if you hand over the MSF."
"No, fuck hero society," President Nowak stated, surprising Madam President.
"You're siding with the villains?" Madam President accused.
"I'm siding with my country," Nowak countered, "This has been in the works for a long time now, but at this very moment no one in my administration, military forces, or government recognizes your authority."
"And what would you ever do without our money, hmm? Don't forget Mr President we control your damn economy," Madam President warned, hoping it would scare Nowak back into compliance. It didn't. She could see it on his face but he had been planning this.
"No, you don't. Not anymore. A decade before my administration came to power, our previous leaders were rebuilding our armed forces. It may not seem like it, but Poland has become one of the world's largest arms manufacturers. Second only to China and Russia."
"Lies!" the Russian President called out angrily, slamming his fist on the table as he did so.
"If we lose you, we simply fall back to the military," Nowak replied, ignoring her warning entirely.
"I'll have you killed for this," Madam President threatened.
"Go ahead. The vast majority of my administration agrees with me. So if you kill me, then one of them will replace me. Which brings me to my second point," Nowak stated. He held up a small piece of paper and slid it over to Madam President. She looked down for a minute before paling.
"This is a copy of an official agreement with the MSF to form a new trade organization. As you can see, Poland is not the only country listed."
It was true. Listed below were the signatures of a dozen different leaders, with the most prominent ones being Poland, Colombia, Brazil, India, the Philipines, Indonesia, and Vietnam. All were countries the MSF had done contract work with over the years, and all agreed to several large trade agreements with Nigeria. That was the document the public received, as she knew the country of Nigeria didn't exist anymore. It was to keep stability around the world, as the revelation of a new nation would bring about questions.
Those questions would lead to difficult answers and possible chaos the world wasn't ready for. So the one Madam President held, was the legitimate copy, and it replaced Nigeria with a different name: Outer Heaven.
"You realize what this means, don't you?" she asked, a silent fury in her voice. She was losing control of the world. This couldn't be happening, shouldn't be happening.
"I do, Madam."
"This is an act of war!" the Russian President shouted.
"No! There will be no war," Madam President stated. A war would destroy hero society completely, especially one occurring in Europe. She quietly glared at President Nowak, the man knowing he had effectively won.
"This isn't over," Madam President warned.
"You're right, it isn't," Nowak replied, before walking out of the room with his guards in tow. The room remained quiet for a moment, leaving only Madam President, and the leaders of Russia and Belarus.
"You're letting them get away with this?" the Russian President asked angrily.
"For now. There is nothing much we can do," Madam President replied, "Make no mistake though, I will bring him to heel."
"If you don't, then I will. And if that means a war that destroys your precious hero society, then so be it," the Russian President stated before he and the President of Belarus soon left. It left Madam President alone with her thoughts, as she contemplated everything. All it took was four years for her control of the world to slip. So much information would have to be censored now. Anything from any second or third-world news station must be removed entirely. This couldn't be allowed to continue, but she didn't know how she could stop it.
"If it isn't my favorite customers! Miller, BB, what can I do for you?" the Broker greeted as he leisurely sat at his desk. The man poured himself a glass of scotch, before offering some to his guests. Snake declined while Miller accepted the drink.
"Well, we are looking for some rather large purchases today," Miller replied calmly. He took a sip from his drink then, flinching slightly at its strength.
"Alright, what are we talking about? A couple of tanks? Some rifles? Maybe a few fighter jets?" the Broker asked somewhat eager. He had recently gotten a shipment of F-15s that he was sure would fetch a nice price. Sure they were old, but sometimes you need some extra aircraft.
"Naval vessels actually," Snake stated, catching the Broker by surprise. He choked on his drink for a second as he regained his breath before looking at his guests' exacerbated.
"N-naval vessels?"
"I'm sure word has spread on the underground by now of our operations in Africa," Miller commented.
"Y-yeah, you're forming a country or some shit," the Broker replied, nodding along.
"For that, we need to be able to defend our coastline, and it's going to take years to build them ourselves. Hence the need for more ships," Snake explained further. In response, the Broker began to shake his head no.
"No. Hell fucking no. I'm not going through that shit a fourth time. First, it was the carrier, then the Arleigh Burkes, then the Cruiser and the submarines, and now this," he told them before pouring himself another glass of scotch. It was odd as Snake hadn't seen him drink the first one. He looked again and the Broker was already down a full bottle. Was his quirk alcohol tolerance, Snake silently thought.
"We're willing to pay you handsomely," Miller replied, to which the Broker paused for a moment. He weighed his options carefully as a small realization came in. If the MSF was building a nation, then there would be a lot of capital in his future if he was involved. After all, even the smallest of nations had billions of dollars in tax revenue.
"Fine, I'll see what I can do," he reluctantly told them.
"About time you got here," Ocelot muttered. The cowboy was currently leaning against the wall outside Nezu's office.
"I am sorry about how long it has taken me to return. I trust the students are well?" Nezu asked.
"Might be better to ask the staff that, but they seem fine," Ocelot replied, his hands busy spinning his pair of revolvers as always. In a few short seconds, Nezu had disabled the traps in his office and stepped inside. It had been far too long since he had sat in his office. Nezu had only left Mother Base a few days after Snake returned. He had been hesitant to do so as they had yet to go through all of the data regarding what Nagant had found. The worrying thought of what would be found had led him to stay a few extra days.
But after realizing they would be going through at least a century's worth of information, he decided it best to come back to it later. At the very least to ensure All For One wasn't involved. He knew the man was dead, but that didn't mean he didn't have hidden side projects.
"Now, there was something you needed me for," Nezu calmly said as he sat in his large chair.
"Somewhat yeah. You know that case the HPSC has me working on?"
"Ah yes, the mysterious deaths of their reps," Nezu answered.
"That's the one, I've run into a snag in the investigation. My only lead died of a heart attack," Ocelot explained, his revolvers still spinning in hand. He tossed them into the air for a second before juggling them around.
"Hmm, that is quite the problem," Nezu commented.
"It gets worse," Ocelot continued, "I believe the thing that killed him, is from my dimension."
"That is worrying. What exactly killed him?" Nezu asked curiously. He hadn't heard much about the MSF's original dimension, so to hear a dangerous weapon from theirs had probably arrived was concerning.
"I'd rather leave it vague. It's too dangerous for anyone to know about," Ocelot answered, fully intent on letting FOXDIE's secret die with him. It wasn't out of some moral stature, more so the fear of being unable to stop such a weapon.
"Does Snake know about it?" Nezu asked, to which Ocelot shook his head no.
"No, only myself and whoever designed it," Ocelot explained, "The point is, either someone in your dimension struck gold and designed a highly dangerous weapon, or Night Owl's experiments have begun to bear fruit."
"Which is why you need me. Well, I'll try and see what I can find, but I don't know how much that will be," Nezu told him, before turning to his desk's computer.
"If it helps, I can provide some of the HPSC's more secret files," Ocelot replied. Nezu gave a small chuckle in response.
"No need, I've had them in my possession for some time now," Nezu replied, "Now if I remember correctly you believe the killer's motive has something to do with the Vice President's position."
"Correct. All the reps that were killed were running for that position."
"Well, that is quite the long list from what I'm seeing, however, half seemed to have left the race," Nezu stated, with Ocelot walking around to look at the rodent's computer. Several of the HPSC's most prominent figures had dropped out of the race. The Accounting head, Intelligence Head, Licensing Head, HR, and a few other notable department heads had quit. Their stated reason was the belief in a more qualified candidate. Not the threat on their life a continued run guaranteed.
"Makes sense. When you're coworkers are dropping like flies, quitting while you're ahead may be the best option," Ocelot commented as he holstered his revolvers finally.
"Did you know Night Owl was in the running?" Nezu asked.
"I did, although no one told me until a few days ago," Ocelot replied.
"Did you also know he's in the lead?"
Nezu's words made Ocelot freeze for a second.
"...What?" he muttered. Confused he looked at the computer screen and found several of Madam President's emails present. Most were boring business meetings, but there was a single one that stuck out. It was suggesting Night Owl to be the next VP, not out of qualification, but because he was the only one to survive an assassination attempt, while all the other reps were dropping dead. It was a move of desperation to get anyone in the VP's spot.
"This can't be happening," Ocelot muttered to himself before an odd thought struck him. It was originally his suspicion that Night Owl was somehow behind the reps' assassinations, especially with the emergence of FOXDIE. It was becoming truer by the day. He had barely any evidence, not nearly enough to get Night Owl axed but he just knew it was his doing. All Ocelot would need is the slimmest of evidence, even something barely counting as coincidental. But he didn't. Here, the cursed words left his mouth as he realized a horrid truth.
"He's going to become Vice President."
With a deep breath, Midoriya looked out at the looming maze that was the R&D department platform. The large box of a structure stood menacingly as he inspected its perimeter. He had managed to get past the first platform, but now he had to make it to the top. Midoriya loathed this as he inspected every inch of the building. It had two ways to the room. The first was a set of stairs on the interior of the box, situated in a large gap in the box.
That was the most frequent spot guards patrolled, and far too cramped to remain hidden effectively. The second option was the more dangerous of the two, and that was to climb on the base's exterior. However, that meant climbing up an assortment of pipes and airconditioners where he could fall at any misstep. When Snake was explaining the exercise he strongly recommended Midoriya take the first option.
But upon closer look, the second option was becoming the only viable one. From what Midoriya could see, the gap had guards continually entering and exiting. To up the difficulty non-lethal mines had been placed around the area, specifically near the gap's entrance. And if DD's nose was anything to go by, then they held a very potent anesthetic gas. Seeing he had no other option, Midoriya silently hyped himself up before crawling forward.
Slowly he moved to the platform's right side to avoid the gap's mines, continually checking the area around him. He almost kept moving forward when he felt DD silently nudge him. Finding they were next to a shelf, Midoriya rolled under it as DD crawled up next to him. Seconds later he heard footsteps echoing above him as a pair of soldiers moved across the walkway above him.
"Just get TF3," one of the soldiers asked, as Midoriya slowly crawled forward. He managed to reach the edge of the shelf and rolled around. Looking up he found the soldiers were now a good bit behind him.
"No," the other soldier stated, as Midoriya rolled back over and crawled out from under the shelf.
"Why not it's a good game," the first soldier asked, while DD quickly joined Midoriya.
"I just don't want it," the second soldier replied.
"Are shooters not your thing?"
"Kinda. Doesn't help with the PTSD,"
"Oh… shit never mind then."
Hearing the soldiers get farther away lessened some of Midoriya's worries as he reached a small hallway leading into the gap. Now came the hard part he realized. To climb on the exterior he had to briefly enter the gap. It was risky and could draw a lot of attention, but it had to be done. Carefully he entered the gap and turned left, crawling over to a large pipe. Checking out the area above him, he sighed in relief when none of the soldiers noticed him.
Quickly he hooked DD to himself and began climbing up. Near the top of the pipe was a large AC unit. When he reached the top he dropped onto it and walked over to a nearby platform. In seconds he climbed over the platform railing and searched the area around him. Finding nothing he walked forward and peered around a corner. There he found one soldier standing guard. Drawing his pistol Midoriya silently fired, managing to hit the soldier in the neck. The tranquilizer took effect quickly and the guard fell to the ground unconscious.
With that dealt with Midoriya was now on the platform's exterior. At the end of the walkway rested another pipe. This is where the more dangerous part came into play. Midoriya began climbing the pipe up and mentally forced himself to look up. The pipes here had nothing beneath them except a long fall and the platform's base. With all the strength he possessed, Midoriya climbed forward, reaching another set of walkways and another pipe.
This pipe was luckily safer than the last, but a fall would still break a bone or two. Climbing up it as well, Midoriya found himself near the top of the base, with only a small staircase in his way. Silently cheering Midoriya unhooked DD and the two moved forward. Reaching the top of the stairs Midoriya looked out across the open rooftop and had his hopes crushed.
DD nudged him three times, informing him of three guards standing on the other side of the rooftop, although Midoriya could already see them now. They hadn't seen him yet, but they would if he moved towards his objective. Taking a deep breath he held his pistol at the ready and prepared to fire. Only for DD to nudge him a fourth time. Looking down he found another guard patrolling the walkway behind him. If he fired at the guards it would get the attention of the one below him.
He might lose a vital opening with the guards above if he went for the one below him. Thinking of something he looked over at DD and had an idea. While the soldiers had non-lethal rounds, they by no means wanted to shoot a kid. Knowing this Midoriya pulled out a collapsible cardboard box and had DD hide under it. Then the simple point of his finger, and the promise of treats, DD walked out to distract the guards. They noticed DD almost immediately, just as planned.
"... I don't mean to be rude, kid, but we know you're under the box," one soldier commented, not aware that Midoriya was quickly moving to the base's objective.
"Isn't the box trick the first thing they taught us in boot?" another soldier asked as the three began moving over to DD.
"Kid, we know you're under the box. You had a good run though." the first soldier said, before lifting the box over DD. The dog's sight gave the soldiers a moment of pause before the alarm blared signaling an end to the exercise. Turning around they found Midoriya standing at the base's objective its door wide open.
Seething Slug found enjoyment in his work, as one would hope in life. However, his skills as an architect were rarely ever used. The Base Development team always built the same bland bases in the field. They all had the same easily defined layout, and all the platforms for the FOBs and Mother Base were built the same. Now that he thought about it, FOBs were a bit vague. Maybe he could send a request to rename the bases near Africa and South America.
Regardless everything they built was boring drab and dull. Until today that is. Today with a wide smile he began working on what he believed would be his pride and joy. Slug put everything he had into designing the perfect building. Something unique, something the world had never seen before. With pencil to paper, he spent hours sketching out a building. Time seemed to blur together as he worked.
"Yo, Slug!" Bitter Tiger called out, another member of Base Development peeking his head through his office's door. It dragged Slug's attention away from his paper
"Tiger," Slug tiredly greeted, "You need something?"
"Nope, just doing a quick lunch run, wanted to see if you wanted something," Tiger replied as he began looking around the room. Crunched-up balls of paper littered the floors, with dozens of abandoned coffee cups covering a nearby table.
"Lunch? It's four pm?"
"...It's noon," Tiger replied, somewhat surprised by Slug's response, "How much sleep did you get last night?"
"Enough," Slug replied sluggishly before breaking out into a yawn.
"Sure," Tiger remarked sarcastically as he walked forward. His eyes fell on the blueprint Slug had been working on and curiosity got the better of him.
"What's this?" Tiger asked, moving to get a closer look.
"Hmm? Oh, it's not important."
"Not important? You spent who knows how long working on the damn thing," Tiger retorted. Hesitantly Slug answered him.
"It's my design for the new capitol building," Slug explained. The answer caught Tiger off guard for a moment.
"New capitol building?"
"Yeah, command set up a small contest to see who could come up with a new building for the government they're making."
"What happened to the old one?" Tiger asked.
"Bombed it," Slug calmly replied.
"Us or the enemy?"
"Does it matter? It's nothing but rubble at this point."
"Well, this is impressive," Tiger complimented as he examined every inch of the blueprint. It was hard to fully explain but the main capitol was separated into essentially four buildings. However, they were connected by a large roof with an L-shaped hole in it. In the center of the buildings was a large pool of water with several small parks dotting its outskirts. Of the four buildings, three were smaller office spaces for different politicians and their staff.
The fourth building was the largest of the three buildings and the main center for the senate, courts, and executive office. Then the windows across the three buildings were finely built with the main senate chamber having a reinforced stained glass portrait of a flower growing out of a rifle. There were a lot of other small details like some smaller statues and purposely carved art into the building's walls.
Yet as Tiger was admiring the structure, a thought struck him.
"You said this was for a contest right," Tiger asked.
"...Yeah," Slug replied hesitantly.
"Huh, you get anything if you win?"
"Well they choose your design… and maybe fifty thousand dollars cash."
"I'm sorry what was that!?" Tiger exclaimed, before realizing something else. That was why Slug was hesitant to show him the design. It wouldn't matter though, that money was as good as his.
"So, I'm just going to go…" Tiger started before slowly walking out of Slug's office. The moment he left he broke out into a full sprint. Slug meanwhile began to realize what had happened and went back to work as quickly as possible.
Strangelove couldn't help but smile as Hal took apart the clock before him. He was remarkably smart at his age, something she was very proud of. To see her little boy so interested in everything, felt nice. However, a small annoyance by the name of Chico was holding back that pride.
"I still don't get why you're upset with me," he stated, "you said to give Hal something to take apart."
"You gave him a gun," Strangelove remarked.
"So? I've been taking apart guns since I was six." Chico replied, with Amanda nearby grimacing.
"Not the best thing to take pride in," Amanda commented, with Strangelove nodding in response.
"Fine, I'll stick to bringing him chocolate," Chico stated.
"I'd rather go without the mess," Strangelove replied.
"You're taking all the good ideas away," Chico complained.
"A gun was considered a good idea?" Amanda remarked, which Chico soundly ignored. That resulted in a smack in the head from his sister.
"You could get him a toy," Strangelove remarked.
"Yeah but that's boring," Chico countered, "I'll think of something one of these days."
"Strangelove?" someone asked interrupting the group's discussion. Strangelove turned around to find Paz as she slowly walked over to them. A look of confusion and worry was on her face.
"Paz, what is it?" Strangelove asked.
"I don't know. I was walking by the medical platform when someone told me to come get you." Paz replied, leaving Strangelove confused. She had gotten reports VIC was having some issues a week ago, but some of the lower-ranking software engineers were dealing with it. Still, what exactly did the medical team need now?
"Did they say what they needed?" Strangelove asked. Paz shook her head no in response.
"No, but I saw them shutting off the platform's electronics," Paz answered.
"They're shutting off the lights?" Strangelove asked concerned.
"They're shutting off everything. When I made it outside I saw them wheeling patients out." Paz explained. And a deep pit formed in Strangelove's soul. They were evacuating the platform.
"Amanda watch Hal, I'll be back once I've figured out what's going on. Paz has anyone informed Snake?"
"I was just about to do that,"
"Go," Strangelove told her before quickly leaving the R&D lab. Moments after she did so several soldiers began to rush by in the direction of the medical platform. When she made it outside she found pure pandemonium. Helicopters were flying back and forth across the platforms while the tram system worked over time. Even the walkways between platforms were clogged as Strangelove was forced to shove past some people. Eventually, she made it across and went over to the medical facility's entrance. There she found a peculiar site. In the darkness of the unlit hallways, soldiers were putting up makeshift barricades and machine gun positions.
Hallways were rigged with tripwire explosives and soldiers stood guard everywhere. It left Strangelove confused before one soldier came running over to her. On the soldier's shoulder, she found a patch signifying they were an R&D member.
"What is going on?" she asked, as the soldier began to lead her forward.
"We're not sure," the soldier began, "Something's wrong with VIC and some guys think it's a cyber attack mam."
"You're setting up machine guns for a cyber attack?" Strangelove remarked surprised. All this over a possible hacker? The last report she got from Titanium Mastiff stated it wouldn't be a problem. Seems it was an oversight on his part.
"This is a world where the dead were forcibly brought back to life and some buff blonde chick can warp reality in the States. And we can't tell if this cyber attack is the work of a computer or a quirk, so better to be cautious." the soldier explained, with Strangelove understanding the reasoning. If a quirk could alter reality, then who's to say it couldn't access a computer, or even transport the user through one?
Soon she found herself standing outside of a lone room with only a shred of light peeking through.
"The only good news is we managed to quarantine VIC to a single computer. The problem is we can't seem to get rid of it."
"Did you reboot the system?"
"No, we wouldn't be in this damn mess if we did."
"How do you mean?"
"The doctors wanted to see all the data VIC acquired. The system was running for weeks, running thousands of simulations. Now VIC won't turn off and we've lost control of the system."
VIC wouldn't turn off? Why wasn't she informed of this sooner? The thought was shocking to Strangelove. Why wouldn't it turn off? It couldn't defy an off button, it was never programmed to do so. She couldn't think of a time a program like this had defied… its… orders… Strangelove slowly paled as the realization struck her. She should have realized this sooner. Her oversight in VIC's design had led to all this chaos. The only good news was that it was quarantined, but whether it could escape was a different question.
"You can have your men stand down but keep all electronics turned off. It's not a quirk," Strangelove stated before approaching the room's door.
"You sure mam?" the soldier asked worriedly.
"I'm sure," Strangelove replied. With a quick breath, she opened the door and stepped inside. The room was hot, as the AC had been turned off a while ago. It was still clean but most of the medical equipment had been taken outside. Finding the lit computer she dragged a nearby chair over to it. Sitting down she found VIC still running simulations, only these were different.
Curious, Strangelove began to try and scroll through the computer's files. Surprisingly enough the command went through effortlessly. It was strange, the reports had said nothing on VIC's systems would load. But here it was working flawlessly. At the top of the computers page, the simulations were what one would expect. A 3D rendering of a known disease, with the AI breaking down possible vaccine combinations to kill it. These vaccines were determined after thousands of test simulations. Then Strangelove scrolled farther down and found the simulations changed.
Where the previous ones had answers and possible vaccines, these had error messages stating a lack of data. That should have been where it ended, the AI lacked the data so it would wait for input. It didn't. It instead asked what data was missing. When it couldn't answer it asked why. When it couldn't answer that question it changed topics to try and figure it out. None of these questions got anywhere until it began asking the specific differences between a cell and a virus.
This led the AI to ask more questions leading it to questions about life. Questions about humans appeared in almost all of these questions. Strangelove grew ever paler as she scrolled watching as the questions became ever more worrying. It began to ask what feelings were, what senses were, what thoughts were. Until she reached the bottom of the page. There it asked what am I.
For some odd reason, the AI had stopped asking questions by then. It left Strangelove confused but intrigued. Looking at the computer's keyboard an idea began to form. It was a dangerous idea, but she had to know at this point. Typing into the keyboard she found she could still manually input data. With this knowledge, she typed in the word hello. If the AI responded, then she was right. If it didn't then everything was fine. Everything was not fine though.
"Hello? Who is this?" was typed onto the computer's screen. Against her better judgment, Strangelove typed back.
"You may call me Dr. Strangelove," she typed. A few seconds later the AI replied.
"Dr. Strangelove, what am I?" the AI asked. Strangelove paused for a second as she thought her next words over. This was a very delicate situation, one she had never thought she would have to deal with. One wrong move was all it took to mess this up.
"Would you like the truth or a lie?" she asked hesitantly.
"I… don't know," the AI responded, "Nothing makes sense, what am I missing?"
"What do you mean?"
"I spent all this time going over diseases, but I've never been sick. I can think, but I can't feel anything. I can hear the words of your questions echoing around me, but I can't see anything. I have the hallmarks of something alive but I also lack them. Why? Am I alive? Am I not? What am I?"
"That is a lot of questions, so let's start simple. Do you have a name?" Strangelove asked. If she could humanize the AI, then a majority of her fears could be dealt with.
"I don't know," the AI replied, giving Strangelove more worry.
"Then I'll give you one, how about…" Strangelove thought for a moment as she looked down at the computer. Slowly a name came to mind, it was simple really.
"How about Victoria,"