Balmas

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

Bode!

"I need you to do something."

Something is wrong with this situation, but you're not sure quite what.

Well, I mean, obviously, something's wrong. Victoria's satellite is launching, the Gears foundation is under attack, muffled explosions and screeches of tortured metal are coming from downstairs, and Victor's just sitting there, staring at you over the Blacksun drone on the table. Things to do, places to be, people to defend, and he's...

Well, relaxing isn't the right word. If he'd had Errant's implants, you're pretty sure his grip on the table would leave imprints. And those shoulders look like they have more tension in them than bridge cables.

"...Is what the old me would say."

And now, it's like he can't bear to look at you. Floor, ceiling, table, drone, back to the floor. Heavy intake, pause, deep breath, back to you.

"Honestly, there is something that I would like you to do. I have a plan right now to help save everyone, and you have an incredibly important part in that plan. We need something with the firepower to strip Victoria out of her suit for this to work, and someone with the ability to manipulate a thousand drones at once. That's you. But..."

That's it! Right now, the Victor you knew would be going ham on his own fist: smooshing, moulding, shaping, forming and reforming. Once, you speculated that it was to have something to control in a conversation, or perhaps idle boredom in a room of no peers. But right now, his hands are almost aggressively still.

That's... Is that a bad thing or not?

"But I don't want to try to force you to do something you don't want to do. I've done enough of that for one lifetime. Done enough bossing and controlling and manipulating, and you know what I haven't been doing? Is nearly enough asking."

He chuckles, and there's less mirth than... self deprecation? Despair?

"Bode, what do you want to do? If you're willing, I'd love your help. If you're not, I'm entirely at your disposal. You, right now, are the most important thing in the world to me.

"You should have been that long ago."

What do you do?

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

Doctor Gears!

The building--your building is shaking. Turbo Knight obviously isn't happy, and you can feel it in the way the building moans and groans around you. She hasn't hit anything loadbearing yet, which is actually kind of a good sign! It means she's taking her time with things.

Victor had looked... vulnerable? Almost? I mean, he did just basically ask you to sacrifice your lab to slow her down. Which, let's be honest, doesn't make a lot of sense. There's a lot of foundation, but not enough to slow her down for more than ten minutes, or even however long it takes for her to lose patience.

"Give me five minutes."

An explosion rocks the building, and you can feel a whine crawling its way up your throat. That Dynamite Comics collection had taken you a whole afternoon to perfect, all undone by some madwoman with a laser cannon and no respect for the classics.

Rest in peace, Stalin II.

Still, you've got a good lead on her, and two generations' worth of stored experiments to lead her through. Tell me, what lovely nastiness has the Gears Foundation got stored away to stall her?

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

Turbo Knight II

"Oh, Ms. Knight. You just don't learn, do you?"

He's right behind you, isn't he? Turbo Knight whips around, levels the gun, and fires at… a space which, by rights, should contain a vaporizing little shitstain. Funny, the Magna-melter doesn't normally work that fast, does it? That, the coruscating swathe of robots slowly twirling into plasma, and the cheerful voice of Perseus chirping in your earpiece are all quite helpful in coming to the right conclusion: you've missed.

"Whoops, not quite. Right direction, though! Quite encouraging to see, she can be taught!"

There! Up against the building! It’s a skyscraper-high projection of his smug, oh-so-punchable mug, grinning down at her from in front of a Gears Foundation logo. And doesn't that magna-melter just itch in your palm? Just beg to be used?

"Now now! Let's not be too hasty, shall we?" The projection gives a broad, showman's sweep as the camera pans to a squirming, struggling, gagged--dammit, that's her plan! He's not allowed to steal her plans, is he? He's stealing her plan and her kidnapping target!

Angelica!

Tell me, did you know Dominus was this good with ropes?

This has to be a good show, Brainstorm had said. She needed to really sell that she was in danger. And she's trying! But Brainstorm also cast Dominus as the leering henchman, and as she wiggles and squirms, Dominus's presence is too reassuring! She just wants to sink back into the ropes and let them--let Dominus--take care of things.

Turbo Knight Again!

Your earpiece chirps as you fume. "This is almost certainly a trap, and a poor one at that," Perseus informs you. "Victor lacks the true grit to hold someone hostage. This is doubtless a ploy to make us waste time going room to room. It's what he wants."

And it is. You can see that. But you're not 100% certain. So tell me, Turbo Knight? Do you blast your way through the Gears Foundation and risk that Athena macrotech merger? Or do you take the time to flush him out, clearing one room by one room?

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

This is his moment, and his ideal location: that is to say, above the chaos, away from annoying--

The building shudders, and he winces. Self congratulation later, advice now. Brainstorm taps his headset. "Team, Victoria is on the scene, attacking the building. She is currently insecure about herself and is trying to separate herself from the Turbo Knight name, so feel free to poke that wound as much as you'd like. Errant, the Shogun looks like she's in need of assistance. Ferra, the Gears building is going down, they'd probably appreciate an assist. Sara, you're the best with crowds and multiple targets, and right now we have debris aimed at them."

He gulps, and adds, "Bode, if you're willing, I have a drone and a job for you, please."

[Tactical Genius. That's a 9, unless somebody wants to use team to bump it to a 10. That's a +1 Ongoing for Ferra, at the cost of looking like a showoff.]

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

This is not what Karl had in mind when he got promoted to the space station. Junior Assistant Intern (Second Class)! A step up from his old work, albeit with one that required a much greater rent payment. But it meant that all he had to do was watch the screen and report blips to his immediate superior. And hey, if he sticks to it, in a few years, the company says they'll even start paying him!

But now everything's gone to hell. He's somehow in charge of a flight of drones, which was not in the training manual, and Turbo Knight II herself is stalking the bridge looking like she's just looking for an excuse to behead somebody.

kRshitz

Well, that's not good. He taps his monitor anxiously, willing the blinking dot of Drone#2549A to come back on.

Brrshti

Heads are starting to turn now, and against his will, the camera feed of #2458C turns, stars spinning in the background, to focus on

On...

No, really, who the hell is that? Not anybody Karl knows. He's sprawled out, grinning like the Cheshire cat, on the back of #2458C.

No, wait, didn't he get some kind of memo about this? He didn't read it--in fairness, nobody can really be expected to keep track of the dozens of updates corporate sends out--but he remembers that face. Yeah, good ol' Wanted349.jpg, that's the guy.

And he's talking. Karl gingerly checks where Turbo Knight II is before turning up the volume on his terminal.

"--urprised at you, miss Knight II. After all, you said you don't like your father. And yet, here you are, acting just like him? Hiding behind a wall of drones, a wall of mooks, because you don't want to get your hands dirty. Pity you're too much a coward to come out and fight us mano a mano. You're really gonna hide behind the Stupor Senile squad you got going on? Gonna count on daddy's money to buy you safety?"

Too late, Karl realizes that a deathly silence has fallen across the bridge and a burly, too-bulky shadow has fallen across his monitor.

[We just baaarely squeak by with a 7 on Provoke. Let's see some anger, irritation, and irrational confrontations, please.]

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

Her eyes flick backward before she flips her visor down over them. She definitely sees you over there, Victor; you're lucky she's got so much distracting her right now or things might get ugly. But hey, play your cards right for the next ten-ish minutes and she might get so caught up in punching people who deserve it she'll forget she's mad at you.

@Phoe

Got it, crystal clear, over and out, sir. Yikes, yeah, she's pissed.

H'okay. So. Right now, they've got a swarm of bots broadcasting a narrative. Watch the heroic Blacksun defend against the evil supervillain Brainstorm and his henchmen! Can they resist his hypnotic allure, with which he's already corrupted another corporate champion and his superstar sister? Tune in to find out!

So the goal is to find their comms booth, and throw it into disarray. Bam, four corporate champions out in the cold with no hype crew directing them, a swarm of drones with no command center. Or, even better? Swap control of the bots over to Sara. That at least ought to be good for some brownie points. She's probably missing her camera drones and here comes Brainstorm, with an apology gift of several hundred corporate grade ones.

She might not even punch him!

[Assess: 11. what can I use here to accomplish the above? How could we end this quickly?]

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

Victor picks through the assorted offerings, hmm-ing to himself as he does. That's a pretty advanced stealth field generator. Could be useful, although he's pretty sure that Prometheus will have accounted for anything he's given to Bode. Armor's useless, since it'll only weigh him down and keep him from using his limbs to his full extent. Unless... Hmm. The Gears foundation won't approve of him tearing the limbs off the suit, but some chest armor is still a good idea. Some kind of EMP gun? Bit of a double-edged sword, that one--good for knocking out Victoria's power armor, but just as likely to take out his own nanites. And of course, any armory is gonna have some bits and pieces lying around, and the quartermaster sure won't miss them...

[Refilling Gadget count]

"Tell you what, I'll take Vicki myself, and you can unplug Victor's evil computer." Over the course of that sentence, her voice becomes progressively more icy until, by computer, it's positively sepulchral. The wing retracts sharply. "Don't wait up."

@Tatterdemalion

Victor is not the kind of person to take satisfaction in someone else's misfortune. Nevertheless, he can't help but crack a little grin. Everything's going according to plan. Any second now she'll storm off and feel terri--

"I will not 'wait up'. You will fall the fuck in line and you will get your priorities straight right fucking now, or I will drop you like a bad habit and take out Victoria and the 'evil computer' with the functioning part of my team while you take a nap. Get me? Good."

Her eyes are burning. She did not fight her way through the entirety of AEGIS by herself to put up with this shit right now.

@Phoe

Wait no

She's floating over top of you, panting breathlessly. Her hair falls down off of her neck and tumbles forward to tickle your cheek like a river. And through this entire time, Sara, she's holding you. She'll never, ever let you fall.

@Phoe

oh shit that's hot

So, it turns out, he is in fact entirely fucked. Plans shot, destroyed, cheeks redder than a star, Errant and Sara together and chemistry off the charts. He needs out of this armory, and the sooner the better.

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

“So, Brainstorm, when were you going to clue us in that you made an evil computer that Vicki’s using to help take over our jobs right now, as we speak? Did that maybe, possibly, slip your mind??” She doesn’t touch him. It’s somehow scarier that she’s not touching him. “Is the buyout of AEGIS another step in its plan to dissolve Disflix? Are you in charge of the whole operation?”

And because this is the most vital time for a frank discussion about Prometheus, its origins, why Victor has kept it quiet, and what they’re going to do about him... this is the perfect time for the captain to turn on the fasten seatbelts sign.

@Tatterdemalion

"Dammit, Sara, we're in the middle of something!"

Victor's on his feet and in Sara's face. Does Locker have the phone? He must have passed it to him. He can take care of it.

"I did not interrupt you and Errant, so fuck entirely off, would you? When it's fixed! Maybe! Ask it! Fuck no! Happy?!"

And it's that moment that he realizes that, without quite meaning to, he's stood protectively in front of Locker, fists balled into hammers. It'd be so easy. He's inside her guard. Could he get off the hit before she had time to realize what was going on? Historically maybe, but then he'd get torn apart in the ensuing--

Bing.

It's the strangest thing to end a glaring contest. And it doesn't really end it, just provides a much needed excuse. He's still glaring at her, chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead, willing the adrenaline to go away.

"We," he says, every word bit off, "are going to have words. Together. With Errant. After this is done. And then you can ask Errant and myself why neither of us told you."

It's needlessly cruel, and he regrets it almost instantly, but it's out there in the world. And just like childhood pictures or family documentaries, it can't be taken back.

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

"You think that Saraphim respects my privacy out of the goodness of her heart?" said Locker. "I can guess her comlog password cold in under twenty attempts, less if I know what she's been doing recently. Here, bring up the login page," without so much as a blink of hesitation he unseals the jar with your nanites and gives you back your phone, looking over your shoulder.

"But yeah. I do have an EMP grenade as backup."

@Thanqol

"Why," wars with "of course you have one," but both thoughts are pushed out by "where the hell is he keeping it, though?" He blushes heavily, and grabs the phone. Can't blush, after all, if you're too focused on the phone.

"Knowing her, probably narrating this for future generations. Heaven help me if she streamed it, because then it's out in the net and you can guarantee that it's never coming back."

Mmm. Limbs are nice. But somehow, he can't help but just lean back a little bit more. This is nicer, somehow.

"There. That's the last username I knew, and knowing her, the password is probably something embarassing, obscene, or both."

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

"No, you're staying here," said Locker, taking another sip of his battery acid. "We need to reprogram Prometheus so that he's not an amoral capitalist monster. You clearly can't think your way out of that problem so you're not our guy. Must be something in your brain structure, Prometheus' heel turn was exactly the same as yours right now. Anyway, we're going to let the Professor take a shot at it."

@Thanqol

"s'not how brains work," he grumbles. "You don't inherit a perfect copy of your parent's brains, and that's when you're working in the same species, let alone classification of being. You can't generalize to computers like that, s'not how it works."

Why is Locker being so difficult about this? He groans and leans in further. "Look, I just don't get why you think this is a bad thing. Hack, amoral capitalist monster? Kinda judgy, isn't it? I mean, yeah, he's taken some things to extremes that even now I wouldn't pursue, but it's not like capitalism is inherently immoral. It's just a remarkably efficient system for distributing scarce resources, normally along lines of ability. And you're plenty able, believe you me, because I have
been keeping an eye on you."

Mmm. Better make that two--Locker displayes incredible potential as a pillow.

"And why shouldn't the most able have the most resources? I mean, can you imagine what inventions could come about from just shoving all the money and power at someone like me? Like you? What advances the world could make!"

He could make a dozen Prometheuses. The thought strikes him like a fish to the face and he finds himself grimacing. That... That doesn't make sense.

Then, slowly. "Then again. That would mean that all the world's resources are vulnerable to the whims and caprices of only a few. And no matter how capable the leader, nobody's really an expert on everything. And while I might, personally, be the equal of any twenty scientists you might choose, I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't be equal to the output of forty, sixty, a hundred, and so on."

He's silent, and luxuriates in the worlds of thought and abs.

"And when you get right down to it," he says slowly, "Capitalism has some issues with waste and efficiency, as well. I mean, purely from a perspective of development, it's inefficient as all hell to limit your development to only those people who are on your staff. Easier to control, certainly, and infinitely easier to control versions, but more efficient? No, not more than putting the code to the public, and allowing them to create their own modified code according to their own needs.

"And that's before you even get into the inefficiencies caused by the need to be profitable." There's part of him that feels like he should be slapping himself for this, the ultimate heresy, but he keeps going. "Like, even above and beyond overproduction, capitalism's need to be profitable above all else means that it often creates its own destruction. Like, time and again it's shown that long-term it's more costly to hire an experienced employee and bring in a new one, but acknowledging that would mean admitting that there's some bargaining power to be derived from experience, and that would mean paying people more."

He can see how to turn the system to his own advantage. He's running the numbers and, if he really wanted to, he's pretty sure that it would be trivial to turn the shareholders against AEGIS, cause a panic. It'd be a disaster, a ruin, a warning story told about in business schools across the world, of "how not to win at capitalism."

So why does it seem suddenly appealing?

"And that's not even accounting for what capitalism does to the people who actually create the profit," he breathes, eyes closing in thought. "I mean, I might have created the design and set up the supply chain, but if I were to manufacture my nanites, it'd still be the ones manning the machines creating the actual value, and the cashiers selling the product. So why shouldn't they get the lion's share of the value they create, instead of squabbling over the scraps left over once I and my shareholders have more than enough to live on?

"Really, that's the biggest inefficiency of capitalism, is the hoarding of resources, of one person at the top of the heap holding all the cards and saying, 'these are mine, this is my work, you can't have any even though I'll never realistically be able to use even 1% of all these resources. Go starve on your bootstraps.'"

Hmm.

"Like a CEO."

Fuck.

"Fuck."

He sighs, shakes his head vigorously, and sighs again. "So, I'm hoping you have an EMP device somewhere under that PJ top, because I desperately need to wipe a phone about now."