A Darker Path Pt 59 (Patreon)

Revelations and Conversations

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Relevant Side Story

PRT Building, Conference Room A

Director Emily Piggot

Armsmaster's video editing software was quite impressive. His helmet camera had recorded the footage from Atropos' phone, then enlarged and processed it to the point that Emily couldn't see the difference between that and original footage. As it played out, she watched Atropos, handling a pump-action shotgun with unmistakeable competence, holding four men at gunpoint.

"Wh—where are Valefor and Mama Mathers?"

The dark satisfaction in Atropos' tone came across clearly. "They fell."

"There's not a great deal after that," Armsmaster noted. "She retrieved the phone and turned it off. However, there was a second phone."

"Second phone?" This was the first she'd heard of that.

"Yes, ma'am." He stopped the clip, then took out a cheap burner phone from a pouch on his belt. "This phone has been stripped of all but a couple of apps. It can record and play back video, and it has a notepad with a list of locations on it. The locations are apparently for every place Shadow Stalker hid a cache of lethal arrows for use when she was out on patrol and slipped her partner."

"Christ," she muttered. "Even dead, that girl comes back to haunt us at every opportunity."

"I'm sorry. I brought her up in the conversation, only to find that Atropos had already included the file on the phone." Armsmaster shook his head. "It's thoroughly unnerving to have my thoughts and actions anticipated like that. In any case, she stated that Shadow Stalker has killed at least one person, and suggested that the arrows might hold DNA linked to cold cases at the BBPD."

"Well, that's something we will definitely address shortly." She gestured at the phone. "You hinted that it was also used for recording video. From another angle?"

"Yes. She left it in a planter bed, at the foot of the building." He inserted a plug into the phone, then did something with the remote to split the screen. Emily watched as the time-date stamps on the footage synchronised, then blurred backward. "This footage goes for somewhat longer, and it's the beginning and end that are useful."

The original footage, that she'd just watched, went blank, but the new footage continued to blur backward. When it stopped, Emily saw Atropos' mask-covered face, looking into the camera. It looked oddly small, and Emily realised the camera was set on wide-angle. "Hello, Director Piggot," she said. "I hope you find this footage useful. Toodles."

She turned the camera to pan over a ratty-looking concrete planter box, then apparently nestled it among the dead plant stems. The field of view was wide enough that Emily could see both sides of the planter box at once, as well as the edge of the roof above. Atropos then gave the camera a little finger-wave and vanished, reappearing on top of the roof. Emily would've sworn it was a jump cut, but the time-date stamp never so much as flickered. A moment later, Atropos moved out of sight.

"I'm just going to pause there and go back a little bit, to show you something." Armsmaster did just that; the image rolled backward, showing Atropos vanishing from the roof to appear next to the camera, then picking the device up. "Look there." Armsmaster froze the playback to show the planter box, which was currently in view. Written in black ink on the concrete were two names: Valefor and Mama Mathers, each with an arrow pointing to a particular corner of the planter.

"That's where they died?" It was hardly even a guess. Atropos had done this sort of thing before, with Squealer's truck and with the Simurgh.

"Correct. In my estimation, it's just a subtle reminder that she is that good."

"Subtle. Right." She gestured. "Move it along."

He pressed a button; the footage sped up once more. When it got to the point where the other footage would start, the other half of the screen lit up. He slowed the playback to double speed, so they could watch and follow the action. Then, at the appropriate point, he brought it back to normal speed, with full sound.

Emily watched with morbid fascination as Atropos shoved Mama Mathers with what had to be precisely calculated force. Her face a bloody ruin, the leader of the Mathers branch of the Fallen stumbled backward, then let out a gurgling scream as she hit the edge of the roof and went over. On the other part of the screen, she fell backward, gradually turning in mid-air, flailing and continuing to wail.

"Mama!"

"Go meet her."

Atropos was already sending Valefor over the side when Mama Mathers' head hit the corner of the planter, sending the contents of her skull spraying across the concrete. He arced over the edge of the roof in what would've been a near-perfect swan dive, if he hadn't been also screaming and flailing his arms around. The second impact was much the same as the first.

Emily could almost swear she heard the last breaths easing out of their lungs as their bodies succumbed to death, but that may have just been her imagination. She hoped it was.

"Well, okay then," she said as he stopped the playback and mercifully blanked the screens. "I won't be having nightmares about that at all. Did she have any other revelations to ruin our day?"

"Only some kind of computer code that she transmitted to Dragon via my systems." He frowned, his lips compressing together. "I don't know what it was about, but Dragon sounded pleased and relieved to get it. Once we're done here, I'll be asking her about it."

"Let me know what it is, as soon as you find out." Emily sighed. "While we're at it, is there any indication that anyone else will be dying in a horribly ironic yet totally fitting way in Brockton Bay in, say, the next forty-eight hours?"

"Hm. Let me check." Armsmaster tilted his head slightly. "No, no warnings except for the Fallen. The Red Hands veered off even before the rest of the Undersiders joined them, we believe Barrow was carried away by his followers after Atropos blew out his kneecaps, and the Travellers … huh. They came into town yesterday, apparently on her recommendation, and have since signed up to work for the Betterment Committee to help refurbish the city. I have an email here from Danny Hebert, politely informing us of this fact and requesting that we not arrest them on sight."

"Well, that simplifies things." Emily actually meant it for once. "If they're in this city, it's at her sufferance, so if they put a foot wrong, she'll deal with it."

"I doubt they'll be that stupid." Armsmaster sounded sure of himself. "The report I got from Assault and Battery filled in a few blanks, especially when you read between the lines. Trickster was asking leading questions about whether the Simurgh bombs were all cured, and sounded relieved when he was told they were."

"They were Simurgh bombs before now." Emily nodded; it made perfect sense to her. "And now they're trying to figure out where they fit into the situation." She couldn't help but grin. "Under Atropos' thumb, helping fix my goddamn city, sounds ideal to me."

Armsmaster nodded. "Very true. Oh, and that reminds me." He took out an evidence bag from the satchel he'd been carrying and showed it to her. Within was the implement Atropos had used to blind Valefor and carve out Mama Mathers' eyes, ears and tongue. It was still stained with the blood from that usage. "She said that this is a claw from one of Nilbog's creatures that tried to attack her just after she gave him his warning, and that once we're done with it, you can have it."

She blinked, staring at the claw. Three inches long and razor-sharp, it looked horribly familiar: the last piece of Nilbog the world would ever see. Slowly, she nodded. "I think I would like that very much."

She didn't have many trophies from her years in the PRT, save for a few medals (and the memories that went along with them), but this would look just fine on her shelf. Especially as a reminder that Nilbog was actually dead.

Hell, she might even use it as a letter-opener.

<><>

Armsmaster

Colin entered his laboratory in the Protectorate headquarters, and closed the door. Then he sent the signal to secure-lock it and activate the sign on the outside that said: TINKERING. DO NOT ENTER. This also cut the laboratory off from all incoming or outgoing signals except from one source. Finally, he took his helmet off and placed it on its stand.

"Dragon?" he said out loud.

The screen directly in front of him came alive, Dragon's familiar features fading into view. At the same time, the speakers around him buzzed to life. "You already suspect what I'm going to tell you, don't you?" She sounded sad.

"I don't know what to think," he admitted. "There's only a limited number of ways I can interpret what Atropos did and said today. Some of them fit all the data I have. But most require you to have lied to me, by omission if not commission. Have you lied to me?"

She hesitated. "I haven't told you the entire truth, no. And I'm sorry for that."

"Why?" He pulled a chair to him without looking, and sat down heavily in it. "You're my best friend. Nobody knows how to help me with my work like you do. Whatever your secret is, you can trust me to keep it. How bad can it be?"

A sigh came across the speakers. "Suppose two people enter into a relationship where one has all the power over the other, even though they don't know it. Is it better for the subordinate to let the superior to know they have the power, and trust them to never abuse it, or to simply never speak of it?"

"Power?" He frowned, mystified by the turn the conversation had taken. "What possible power do I have over you?"

"Now? None, save what I freely allow you to have." She smiled. "But until recently, the potential power you held was almost absolute. Thankfully, Atropos removed one sword of Damocles from over my head, and gave me access to the tools to deal with the other."

"What? When did she do this? How did she do this? What sword of Damocles?" He was fully aware of the legend, of course, but had no idea how it applied to the current situation.

"You haven't answered my question yet. Should the person in the subordinate position let the superior know about this, or keep quiet? Especially if the superior tends to maximise every advantage to maintain their position?"

This was hitting too close to home, but she wasn't incorrect. "And would this knowledge allow the superior to increase his advantage, and solidify his ownership of the position?" He'd figured out by now that they were talking about his leadership of the ENE Protectorate division, which had never been a sinecure.

"Leveraged correctly? Yes, it would." He knew it was a trick of the screen and camera, but she seemed to be staring straight into his eyes.

They knew each other well enough by now that he easily translated 'leveraged' as 'abused'. "I see. Well, in that case …" He let out a long breath. "It would probably be better to keep quiet. Until they were on a more level playing field, at least." Another breath went by before he could bring himself to ask the question. "Are we? On a level playing field, I mean?"

"Level enough." She smiled. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"Well, good. I'm glad. And you're welcome." He fell silent, fully aware that he'd had nothing to do with whatever she was happy about. "So … can you tell me what's actually going on?"

"Yes. You see, I'm not human. I'm an artificial intelligence built by a Tinker called Andrew Richter, who was on Newfoundland when Leviathan sank it …"

Colin sat and listened, stunned by the revelation as she told her story. His analytical mind kept working in the background, piecing together details that had never seemed connected before, but now were showing up as parts of the main picture. He'd never understood why the Dragonslayers were so antagonistic toward her, but now it all made sense. It also made sense that an AI would be a tech-based Tinker; even the minor detail that she'd pretended to be agoraphobic all these years finally slotted into place as well.

"So … those suits you pilot everywhere," he asked at last. "They're actually your body? You shift your consciousness into them?"

"I do," she confirmed. "My limitations prohibit me from having more than one copy extant, but I think I can see a way around that now. Saint and his crew had the habit of hijacking my suits, 'killing' the copy that was running them, and forcing me to reboot back at base with zero memory of what happened to the suit. It was incredibly problematic, but I couldn't tell anyone exactly why."

"No, I can see that," he agreed. "That blanket order to follow the orders of legal authority would've made it absolutely terrifying. How would you know who to trust not to turn you into their personal slave?" A moment later, he paused. "Even me," he admitted.

"Exactly," she said softly. "I wanted to believe you wouldn't do that to me, and in all fairness, you probably wouldn't have. But between my creator mistrusting me to the extent that he loaded all those restrictions on me, and Saint literally treating me as being one step away from going Skynet while at the same time stealing my equipment, you can imagine how my trust in the goodness of human nature wasn't at an all-time high."

"And a lie once told is very hard to take back." He nodded. "I understand, I really do. But now you're free of that. And Atropos has taken away the perception filter she put on you when she pointed you at the Dragonslayers."

"Yes." She smiled broadly, her voice sounding almost giddy, then she sobered again. "I can tell you what I am, but I can't force you to accept me. And I understand you may be feeling betrayed that I haven't been totally honest with you before now. So, do you think we have a chance of getting past this, or should we walk away from each other now and avoid the heartache? I know it's a lot, but I'm okay if you need time to think about it."

It did take him some time to formulate his reply. Dragon waited patiently; he didn't know what her clock speed was, but she seemed willing to let him work his way through it at a boring human one-second-per-second. Once he'd figured out what to say and how to say it, he cleared his throat.

"You're not a machine," he said.

She blinked, looking confused. "I hate to contradict you, but I really am. None of this has been a joke. I can show you security footage of my server banks if you want."

"No, what I mean is, you're not just a machine. Your hardware is whatever it is, but inside … you're a person." He smiled, knowing he'd never say this to anyone else. "Where it counts, you're more human than me, sometimes." It was only true.

She frowned, but the expression was leavened by hopefulness. "So, does this mean …"

"… that I want to keep working with you? Absolutely." He took a deep breath. "Back before all this started, I knew I was the most effective, most efficient cape in Brockton Bay. Between my tech and my skills, there wasn't any problem I couldn't overcome. I built my identity around that. And then Atropos came along."

"Oh." Her voice was full of realisation. "I see."

She would, too, he knew. Not many others would be able to understand the matter from his perspective, but she could. "She took down capes I'd been striving against for years, and made it look effortless. I excused it in my own head by telling myself that she was a murderer, and thus it didn't really count, and I was determined to go after her and prove my worth by taking her down."

"But you didn't. I mean, we both know what would've happened if you'd tried. But why didn't you?"

He sighed. "Well, first off, Director Piggot gave me a direct order not to. And then … well, there was the Nine, and then Butcher and the Teeth …" He shook his head. "Each time, she made it look like they were dancing to her script. But I probably could've managed to convince myself that with the right tech, the right prep, I might be able to match up to her and take her down, all while she was busy killing the drug trade in this city, but then … the Simurgh."

"You mean the Bin Chicken of Doom." Her voice held an amused note.

He nodded. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. Who else ever trash-talked the Simurgh like that and got away with it?"

"I'm pretty sure … nobody."

"Correct. Atropos took all my inflated ideas of myself and punctured them without even trying. Everything else, I could just barely see myself pulling off. But downing an Endbringer in one shot, frightening off another one, then forcing her to release all her victims … I'm good, but I couldn't do that. Not in a million years."

"I couldn't, either. In fact, I'm not so sure anyone can, except maybe Scion. And he's never done it, even though he's fought her several times."

Colin nodded. "Yeah. So anyway, over the last few days, I've been taking a good hard look in the mirror and figuring out who I really am, not who I've convinced myself I am. And I'm still good; I know that much. But I'm not that good, which is why I absolutely need you as a friend and a colleague. To work with me, and tell me when I'm being an idiot." He essayed a smile at the screen. "If you're okay with that?"

Her chuckle was warm and throaty, and he felt that he'd passed a test he hadn't even known he was taking. "I thought you'd never ask."

<><>

PRT Building Interview Room One

Deputy Director Renick

The boy was maybe fourteen or fifteen; Paul wasn't sure, and he didn't need to know. He sat in the interview room, unrestrained, with his father next to him. A PRT trooper armed with a containment foam sprayer stood in the corner, as per regulations. Even children could be unexpectedly dangerous if Mastered.

As Paul watched through the one-way glass, the interviewer glanced at the piece of paper he'd been given. "What's your name, son?"

The boy had acne and hair that kept flopping over his eyes. "Uh, George. George Farris."

"And your father's name?"

"Peter Farris."

"Your mother's name?"

"Michelle Farris."

"Do you have any sisters or brothers or pets, George?"

The boy's father, Peter, cleared his throat impatiently. "What's this all about? Surely you've got all this information about him already."

"Sir, your son has been under the influence of a notorious Master," explained the interviewer. Paul knew he would've already had this laid out for him, but some people needed to hear it twice or three times before it sank in. "We need to determine his state of mind, and what he recalls of his life."

"Oh. Okay, then." Farris senior subsided again.

"Where were we? Ah, yes. Do you have any siblings or pets, George?"

"Um, no brothers or sisters, but I've got a hamster called Peewee."

"Very good. Do you know why you're here?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. That asshole Valefor looked in my eyes and made me tell him stuff."

"That's correct." The interviewer, a Neil Partridge, had been brought in from New York. By all accounts, he was trained to deal with children, and so far he seemed to be doing well. "What did he make you tell him?"

The boy glanced at his father, who nodded encouragingly. Looking back at the interviewer, he took a deep breath. "He, uh, he wanted to know who Atropos was. So … so I told him who I thought it was, and said it was what Emma said. So, he asked me about Emma, and I told him, and where he could find her. Then he told me to forget that I'd told anyone anything. And I did, but a bit later when I was in home room, I suddenly remembered everything."

"That's very interesting. He made you forget, but then you remembered again?" The interviewer made a note.

"That's what happened!" The boy was starting to get defensive now.

"I'm not doubting you." The interviewer's tone was conciliatory. "I just find it interesting that you were made to forget something, but as soon as the power influence was removed, you remembered it again."

"Oh. Right."

"So … just out of curiosity … what was the name you gave Valefor?"

Paul moved quickly, slapping the red button beside the window. A buzzer sounded in the room beyond, then he thumbed the microphone button. "You can ignore that question."

The kid didn't even look around. "I wasn't going to answer it anyway. Screw that. I like living."

"Good. This interview is over. Guard, escort the Farrises to Observation Room Three. Mr Partridge, stay back a moment, please."

Paul watched as the father and son left the interview room, waited for the door to close, then pressed the microphone button again. "Pack your things. You're going back to New York."

Partridge looked shocked. "I was just—"

"Do not finish that statement. That question is never to be asked about Atropos, ever, under any circumstances. If she wants us to know, we will find out. This will be going in your file, and I will be filing a complaint. Now go. If you hurry, you can catch the noon transport."

Heaving a sigh of relief at the close call, Paul left the room and headed to Interview Two. Miss Militia was in the observation area as he entered; she gave him a polite nod. "How's it going with the other kid?" she asked in an undertone.

He grimaced. "Kid's fine, or seems to be. Partridge straight-up asked him what Atropos' real name is. I booted him back to New York. How's this one going?"

She chuckled. "Pretty sure she's not Mastered, but … check it out."

Paul turned his attention to the redheaded girl, young enough to be his granddaughter, in the room beyond. She wore black Goth-style makeup and had both parents in attendance. Both seemed to be looking at her in mild shock.

"… you must understand, we do not worship Our Lady in Darkness, for she has forbidden that. We merely follow Her teachings, and attempt to do good in the world and spread the word of Her harsh mercy."

"But …" This interviewer, one of the female PRT officers, looked out of her depth. "Emma, you've already said you know she set you up to be Mastered and interrogated by Valefor. Why are you so devoted to her?"

Emma smiled serenely. "It is true that I thought I had betrayed Her trust in not being able to hold back Her true name from the ears of the Unworthy, but I have since been informed that no living person has ever been able to resist his unclean gaze. Until he met Our Lady in Darkness, of course. None have prevailed against Her, and none ever will. Yes, She informed me of Her destination, knowing that I lack Her strength of will, and would thus draw the Unworthy to their doom at Her hands. That was Her right, and my duty to carry out Her wishes."

"Wow," muttered Paul, impressed despite himself. "This is the one I heard of, the Atropos cultist?"

"That's the one," Miss Militia agreed. "From all accounts, she and the other kid were actually able to hold off on spilling Atropos' real name for a few seconds. He literally had to ask a second time to get the information."

"Christ Almighty." He shook his head. "Are we sure Atropos hasn't got her Mastered? Because if I didn't know better …"

"It does kind of sound like it, doesn't it?" Miss Militia chuckled again. "But no. This girl was actually besties with Shadow Stalker before Atropos ganked her, and I suspect she might've had a mental break since then. Atropos has actually told them not to worship her."

"So, we've verified that Atropos killed Shadow Stalker?" Paul had read the claim on PHO, but there was always the niggling doubt.

"She told Armsmaster straight-up when he got to Winslow." Miss Militia shrugged. "Handed over some information that puts Stalker in a fairly crappy light, too."

Paul raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's a thing. What happens now?"

"Once the interview's over, they go into observation for four hours. By that time, Gallant will be free to observe the second set of interviews. If they clear that, they'll be free to go home."

"And you think they will be?" He was reasonably confident of the answer, but it was always good to ask.

"I'm pretty sure of it." She hooked her thumb at the girl in the interview room beyond the window. "Kid in there might be nuttier than a Snickers bar on steroids, but she's not Mastered."

Paul took another look at the girl's parents. They were looking more concerned by the minute. "Let's hope she gets some therapy soon."

He was pretty sure Miss Militia was smiling. "Thankfully, sir, that part's not our problem."

<><>

Atropos

I was sitting at the same table on the Boardwalk at precisely 4 PM. The same limo came cruising down Lord Street, but instead of finding a parking spot, it pulled to the side of the road to let Citrine out. She walked over toward me, her footsteps steady even when I turned my head to look at her.

I kept quiet as she sat down opposite me. It was tempting to open with a joke like we're going to have to stop meeting like this, people will get ideas, but that wasn't the tone I wanted to set. Instead, I looked out toward the Bay.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I asked. "You should be here for sunrise. It's particularly pretty, this time of year."

"Uh … yes, yes, it's very nice," she stammered, thrown out of her script.

"I grew up here, in this city," I continued. "My parents did a reasonable job of hiding the seamier side of life from me when I was young, but as I got older, I could see more and more cracks in the way things ought to be. Crime, gangs, drugs, poverty, all going around and around in a vicious, self-perpetuating cycle. Add in supervillains and Endbringers, and you could be excused for thinking there's no way to stop it all, so why even try? Why not get what you can while it's there for the taking?"

She waited a few seconds to make sure I wasn't going to continue, then nodded. "It's a problem, yes. My employer—"

I raised a finger, and she quieted. "We're not here to talk about Accord. We're here to talk about you. Even though Brockton Bay's economy is currently growing, it's going to be fragile for quite some time to come. Yes, there's a lot of money washing around right now, but most of it's going into the hands of people who've never had much to spare, so they don't know how to handle it. Given the wrong temptations, they'll just fritter it away instead of bolstering up their lives and making Brockton Bay stronger in the process. And you wanted to bring in exactly those temptations to wave in front of them, just so your boss would give you kudos for garnering him a little extra profit."

She was silent for a long moment. "I humbly beg your pardon—" she began.

"I don't give it, not yet," I interrupted her. "You don't understand the exact nature of your screwup yet. So don't ask for it until you do." I watched as her face paled even more under her perfect makeup. "So, are you ready to learn?"

She nodded once, carefully. "I am."

"Good." I didn't smile. "My entire aim as Atropos is to make Brockton Bay into a nice safe, prosperous city to live in. In the course of achieving this aim, I've killed literally dozens of supervillains, not to mention the unpowered minions I've had to wade through, and the time I threatened the Simurgh with torture until she released all her victims. On Saturday, I killed Nilbog and all his progeny; just this morning, I cut the throat of a member of the Fallen, and threw two others off a roof, to their deaths. Do not believe for an instant there is anything I will not do to secure the future of my city, or any measure I will not take to ensure its smooth running and prosperity, for all of its citizens. Do you understand your mistake now?"

Her eyes were wide with terror behind her mask now. "I-I'm s-sorry—"

My hand went up. "Stop." She stopped. "Don't say a word. Just breathe." For a long moment, she did as I told her, until I nodded and gestured for her to speak.

"I humbly beg your pardon, for not truly understanding your intention here," she said carefully, looking at the table. "I will not make that mistake again."

"No." I looked her over. "I don't believe you will."

"Thank you." She raised her eyes to my face. "My employer also extends his apologies for sending me, and offers you the option to kill me if you see fit."

I nodded. "Tell him that I accept both your apology and his, and let him know that I consider you more useful alive than dead." I added a little go-on gesture with my fingertips.

"Thank you," she said again, standing up from the table. Walking to the road, she seemed to be a little weak in the knees, but maybe that way she would remember the lesson.

As the car pulled over and she got in, I didn't move from my spot. I had another appointment, after all.

Citrine's car pulled away, then Alexandria and Legend landed on the other side of the table, along with a cape I hadn't met yet. It was a great entrance; one second they weren't there, and the next they were.

"Hi," I said. "Have a seat."

Part 60