Chapter 51 - 9

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Stranger Than Fiction (Worm Tinker of Fiction SI) by Throwaway1971

Books » Private Rated: M, English, Romance, Words: 110k+, Favs: 105, Follows: 131, Published: Dec 24, 2023

5Chapter 9: Ninth Page

Disclaimer: I own Jackshit

AN: Ah, ok, well... This took longer than I really wanted, for a number of reasons, which I'll just leave aside, since they're unimportant, considering that this chapter is finally, finally, finished!

Enjoy!

XXX

"Since we're all here, and Miranda has gotten you up to speed, Oriana, where do you two want to start?" I asked, looking at the two Lawson sisters as they sat across from me, visible over the piles of documents and folders that had accumulated on top of it, with several new piles having been added to it since the previous day. Looking over the two women, it was impossible to miss the good mood both of them shared, especially after both of them had left early in the morning to collect Oriana's various documents, along with a visit to several shops along the way.

Something I was seeing the results of as Oriana leaned forwards, smiling at me over the top of her own laptop and dressed in her new outfit of choice. A short, light blue tube top clung to her chest while a similarly coloured pair of daisy dukes clung to her waist, all visible under a black leather jacket that hung open from her shoulders, the pair of black platform boot heels finishing things off. It was an outfit that did the minimum to preserve the wearer's modesty, but, at the same time, put absolutely everything on display. Similar, yet different, to Miranda's own chosen outfit, that covered more, but hugged every curve of her body. Both were revealing in different ways, and not the kind of thing most would ever dream of wearing in public, but I doubted that was the intention.

Not that I was going to complain about it, especially with the view it offered...

"Miranda mentioned that you wanted to start, what is effectively, a conglomerate as a means of building a power base in the Bay, right?" Oriana questioned, absently glancing down at her laptop screen as she did so, before continuing at my nod. "Well, what did you have in mind for that?"

"Well, to begin with, I was thinking of having a rather wide range of different companies under a single holding company, working as the upper management of the entire thing. The subsidiaries working under that holding company would specialise in anything from construction work, to manufacturing and energy production, to private security and policing, to farming and to mining, to housing and hospitality, and a number of others." I began, giving a broad overview even as thoughts spun and plans formed within my mind. "The reason for this is twofold: Firstly, it allows for a greater degree of vertical integration and cuts out the number of places that business can be disrupted by outside influences, either directly or indirectly. And secondly, it keeps things in-house, reducing the chances of an outside contractor discovering something they really shouldn't."

"Makes sense. Actually creating the structure of it would be simple enough, since, with the holding company in place, creating further companies, on paper, under the conglomerate's umbrella would be easy enough. At least until they get fully fleshed out, staffed and equipped." Miranda commented, her fingers dancing across her laptop's keyboard, making notes, even as she spoke. "Though, I'm curious about some of those choices. Things like manufacturing and construction, I can understand, but housing? Hospitality? Why those?"

"As another carrot, primarily." I replied, before explaining further, seeing the questioning looks both Lawson sisters were giving me. "To be perfectly honest, it's an idea I had for encouraging long-term loyalty from employees by building apartments complexes to create jobs, raising the standard of living for the vast majority of the city, and encourage said loyalty through a discount on their rent within said apartment complex, along with other services."

"So, another incentive to look favourably at the conglomerate and those in upper management, since they're the ones who were willing to fork over the cash needed to give the rank-and-file the good pay and benefits they'd be getting, right?" Oriana questioned, getting a nod from me in response. "I assume that security would be included in those benefits as well?"

"Yes, either as a sub-section of a private security company to handle the general security of the conglomerates holdings, or as a dedicated private security company that focuses specifically on maintaining the security of those complexes, at the very least." I answered in turn. "At best, I'd want to have that, plus a private police force working for the conglomerate as well, along with the 'face' and 'work' groups for Parahumans and Enhanced, respectively."

"We could probably convince the city government to go for it easily enough." Miranda commented, tapping a finger against her chin. "The private security is little different than what most other large companies, corporations and conglomerates have in place, so the precedent is already there. The private police force would take a bit of work, but I'm sure we could market it as us doing our part to improve the city, and by pointing out that, since we're providing protection for those pieces of land that we own, the city wouldn't have to, which would be one less expense they'd need to pay for."

"Not to mention the positive PR from bring jobs into the Bay." Oriana chipped in, getting a nod and a smile from Miranda in turn.

"True, which could also be used as another lever to get the city government onboard with us, especially since politicians are always looking for new ways to make themselves look good for voters."

"What about the Boat Graveyard? Clearing that out, along with removing the ship blocking the channel would probably get us a lot of good PR. The shipping industry might have been crippled by the fear of Leviathan, but some ships do still carry cargo around. Plus, even if that doesn't work out, renovating the area would only work in our favour, since it's location was already well suited to act as a distribution centre for any future products that the conglomerate produces."

"Might take a while for us to actually start producing anything directly, if only due to how long it takes to get an assembly line up and running." I remarked, getting a nod from both Lawson sisters in turn.

"True, but that doesn't mean we can't start the process on other sources of income, such as patenting a few designs before licensing them out to other companies, who'd pay us back with a royalty fees later on." Miranda shot back with a smirk.

"Depends on what you had in mind, though, I retain the right to veto anything that I think might attract too much attention from the PR whore collective." I offered agreeingly, and getting a snort from Oriana in response to my choice of name for those two organisations that had names beginning with 'PR.'

"So things that are either at, or close to, the current level of technological capability, but just a bit better to get people interested and keep them interested?" Oriana questioned aloud. "That'll get things going, once we've picked out a good few items and matched them to the right contractors. We'll probably need to hire a few lawyers to help negotiate terms and write up a full contract with the agreed upon conditions. Though, that still leaves the problem of the extra funds we'd need to hire the lawyers in the first place, among other things."

"Ori's right. Even if we have everything assembled, and a plan fully fleshed out, we'd still need further capital to get the ball rolling, and keep it rolling." Miranda added, a frown creasing her features as she spoke. "Though, at the very least, thanks to the 'generous donations' of Henry Lawson, we should be good for the initial stages of development."

"And manpower." Oriana injected cheerfully at the end.

"And manpower, yes." Miranda repeated with a slight smile, nodding in agreement.

"For capital..." I began, already seeing methods, along with the pros and cons of each, to gather funds. In a heartbeat, SECOND mapped out the potential consequences of each, taking the initial dataset and turning it into entire simulations that ran at the back of my mind, informing me just how badly some of those options could potentially backfire and fuck-up. "Off the top of my head, I can see four potential options for gathering the needed funds. Though, these are just my first thoughts, since there's still a lot I don't know about how the situation here on Earth Bet differs from back on Earth Tav. So, the first option is to hack into the banking system and acquire the required funds via an alteration to the Interest generation system, slowly gathering truncated half cents into hidden accounts over a period of time."

"Depending on the bank you infiltrate, how many accounts that bank holds, whether you limit the virus to strictly personal accounts or not, and the amount of interest being generated off each account, you could make a lot of money very quickly with that. More, if you infected multiple banks at once." Miranda analysed, a finger once more tapping at her chin in thought, as Oriana shook her head.

"Yeah, it could work for a while, but I doubt it would be feasible long term." Oriana input. "Big companies, like banks, spend massive amounts of cash to ensure the security of their systems, along with emplacing multiple layers of Anti-Thinker and Anti-Tinker measures, all backed up by Watchdog, who carry out bi-weekly checks to make sure everything is working."

"Really?" I couldn't help but ask, slightly surprised by the new information, even if I could at least guess at what the likely cause may have been.

"Oh yeah." Oriana offered with a grin. "Banks got sick and tired of Tinkers and Thinkers cracking their security measures and making off with millions in digital funds pretty quickly after the first few times it happened, so they invested heavily into new measures to prevent it from happening again. Those measures ended up paying off massively about, oh, nine years ago?"

"About then." Miranda agreed, answering the question Oriana had directed at her.

"Ok, so, the measures paid off about nine years ago when it was discovered that Yangban Thinkers and Tinkers were attempting to destabilise the North American economy, throwing the value of the dollar into question and cause chaos within the US government in the process. The entire thing was aimed at causing as much chaos as possible, to provide cover for Yangban snatch teams to grab a large number of Parahumans and then flee in the resulting chaos. It almost worked, too. Thankfully, the measures that had been put in place at the time managed to create a buffer that let people get the situation under control. However, the Yangban still managed to grab a good dozen Parahumans, leaving no evidence and happily denying any involvement in the entire thing, even if everyone and their grandmother knows what they did." Oriana explained, grimacing slightly towards the end. "Something not helped by the new powers a few of their members started showing off a few months later."

"Every since then, the banks and other institutions have only further fortified themselves, helped along by the Guild and Dragon providing additional support in the form of Thinkers and security sweeps through their networks." Miranda continued, causing me to grimace slightly at that, as the unspoken implications came across loud and clear.

"So that idea is a no-go, then." I commented lightly, not that I really expecting it to have worked, but the history was interesting. "Not surprising, really, but I figured it was worth mentioning."

"It might have worked in a world where banks didn't have to worry about stupid Thinkers and Tinkers trying to steal money or play the stock markets, but, unfortunately, that world isn't this one." Miranda offered with a shrug, getting a snort of amusement from me.

"True." Was all I could really say to that, before continuing on. "The second option was to sell off certain materials for funds, things like precious and rare earth metals, maybe some gems as well."

"That... Would depend on what you were selling, to who and in what quantities." Oriana stated, typing on her keyboard as she did so. An idle thought had me connected to her laptop, allowing me to watch as a window opened, displaying information about the prices of certain metals on the market, per kilo.

"It's doable, but you'd need to spread the sales out over a long period of time, using only small amounts that could be dismissed as the result of prospecting." Miranda informed. "A few Parahumans have tried to do something similar over the years, but have generally ended up running head first into the restrictions put in place by the NEPEA-5 bill that make it next to impossible for Parahumans to own or run their own businesses."

"Some, like Uppercrust and some chapters of the Elite, have managed to work around some of those restrictions by providing valued and important services that can't be replicated conventionally, but not everyone can." Oriana added. "For example, a Geokinetic trying to getting into a mining business, like your idea, would run straight into those restrictions, not helped by the fact that they'd have half a dozen different agencies and organisations after them for any number of reasons. From them believing said Geokinetic was trying to cause a market crash by flooding the market with valuable materials to devalue them, to various worker unions complaining about Parahumans trying to take their jobs away from their members, and a dozen other reasons besides."

"Again, doable on the small scale for infusions of capital, but not something we can rely on as a source of income." Miranda concluded, before adding. "At least, not without a fair amount of additional infrastructure and work to ensure we're completely covered against the blowback."

"Then what about gold prospectors and the like? Or just people who privately own mines?" I asked, once more curious as a nugget of information came bouncing up from the depths of my memories.

"Most of them either go through an intensive screening process, to ensure that they don't have any Parahumans on staff, have on-site government observers to make sure everything is above board, or various legal agreements that can be turned into a retroactive tax, to be paid for as long as a Parahuman may have been working at an operation." Miranda rattled off with ease, her sister nodding along with her. "It really just depends on the locations of the operation, the number of people, and the amount of profit being generated on a quarterly basis."

"I see what you mean." I remarked, frowning slightly as I took the new information in as SECOND launched into the internet, in search of the facts to back it up. "And I can honestly say that it sounds like a fucked-up mess that positively reeks of politics, short-sighted stupidity, greed and fear-mongering, along with some degree of Cauldron-patented stupidity to boot."

"It does, and more than a few people probably know that, but they're also the ones that are probably profiting the most from not having Parahumans-owned or run businesses as competition, so what do they care? It's not like it's their problem, or anything, is it? As for Cauldron? They probably got caught up in their obsession with being the 'hard men making hard decisions' and all that." Oriana commented in turn, voice and features filled with grim amusement as I snorted at that, since that really did sound about right.

"True, very true." I agreed, amusement tracing through my own voice for a second before fading away as I continued. "With that said, quick infusions of funds sounds like the only possibility for that option, either that or mining the materials for private use, which isn't something that can really be done on a large scale here. Or, at least, not on Earth Bet, at any rate."

"Thinking about mining in another dimension?" Miranda questioned, a raised eyebrow accompanying her words as I nodded.

"Given the scale of Creation, finding an alternative universe with an Earth that either didn't evolve life at all, didn't evolve intelligent life, or has been rendered dead by some past disaster wouldn't be impossible." I remarked easily enough. "The real tricky part would be getting the technology to allow that kind of expansion to happen in the first place, since the selection of new techtrees is more reliant on luck than anything else."

"Something to look forwards to in the future, then?" Oriana quipped, getting a snort from Miranda as I grinned slightly in response.

"Moving on. The third option is to take advantage to the 'Craft the Labyrinthian Identity' ritual to acquire bank accounts when giving those born from a Birthing-Crèche an identity of their own." I explained succinctly. "Either that, or using multiple identities crafted in a single ritual to transfer the ownership of those accounts into our possession. Though, with either path, we'd still need to know the bank account details in the first place, which may run into the problems you already mentioned about the bank system here on Earth Bet, Miranda."

"Could work..." Miranda offered thoughtfully.

"It could." Oriana agreed easily, before continuing. "But we'd still need to know the bank account details, which is the main limit to it. We'd either need to hack into a bank's database to get the information we need, or get a copy the information directly from the owners of the accounts somehow."

"The latter would probably be easier than the former, but the number of people who have a large enough bank account to make the use of the ritual worthwhile aren't big, at least locally, anyway." Miranda considered, weighing the pros and cons of the option. "Not only that, but we'd probably need to look for people with multiple accounts, if only to ensure that people aren't left wondering why they don't have any money to their name."

"Which shortens the list even further." Came Oriana's addition, joined by a sigh. "Honestly, it might just be easier to steal cash directly from a gang cash house, or something, then launder it into a clean account. Less hassle, and the rituals can be focused on giving identities, instead of being used as a source of income."

"Assuming that those individuals born from a 'Birthing-Crèche' want one." Miranda remarked in turn. "Some of them, those that take a role as one of the conglomerate's 'Sponsored Capes' probably wouldn't need a 'civilian' identity, unless they really wanted one, at any rate."

"True." Was Oriana's answer as she turned back to me. "So, what does that leave you with, idea wise?"

"Bounty Hunting." I stated simply, drawing a pair of raised eyebrows as the two sisters looked at each other in turn, seemingly holding yet another silent conversation between the two of them as they came to a conclusion.

"Yeah, that would work." Oriana observed thoughtfully, her sister nodding in agreement as her fingers danced across her keyboard.

"Definitely." Miranda voiced, going along with her nod as her laptop finished loading, bringing up a website filled with an up-to-date list of active Parahuman bounties. "Off the top of my head, there are at least half a dozen Parahumans, or groups of Parahumans, that have had bounties posted on them, either for a live capture and delivery, or as part of a Kill Order, within the United States."

"With the Slaughterhouse Nine being one of the best, most publically known, examples of the latter." Oriana input slyly, a grin spreading across her features as her sister stilled in her work.

"Two birds, one stone?" Miranda inquired, her voice equally sly as the two quickly grasped the implications in play.

"A bit more than just two birds, but something like that, yes." Was my answer, as I grinned in return. "For one thing, killing Jack should, at the very least, give us more time to prepared for when things kick off, along with preventing some of the shit they cause in the future."

"Like?" Oriana inquired.

"Invading Toybox and having Bonesaw use the Tinkertech there to effectively clone both past and current members of the Nine, along with creating several hybrid-clones, before releasing them into the outside world." Immediately, both sisters blanched at the idea, probably viewing it as dozens of iterations of the Nine all running around at once, enlarged and expanded to include every member who had ever lived. "Not to mention, trying to recruit Nilbog, and causing the release of the fucker's monsters."

"Ok, yeah, no, they need to die as quickly as possible, no questions asked." Oriana stated, notably pale as she held up her arms in an 'X' shape to emphasis her point.

"No arguments here." I remarked easily enough.

"Things that will be prevented by their deaths aside, the bounty money from killing them should be enough to get the company off the ground and on it's feet, very quickly." Miranda injected, coming back into the conversation after taking a moment to recompose herself. "Though, given how large the Nine's bounties are, we should have more than enough left over to try to increase it a bit further through some stock trading. Either that, or sending them to any number of charities to boost our public reputation and impression."

"Whichever you think works best." In truth, I had no problem with those idea, since it meant the money wasn't sitting idle as things were setup after everything was said and done, along with having a chance of either letting it grow in size, or using it to gain some positive views from others. Considering the fact that some of the bounties on members of the Nine were in the double-digit millions, and that meant that there was plenty to go around, with a fairly large safety net for if any potential investments didn't work out. "How long would it take to get a foundation established?"

"If you give us a full list of what companies you want registered, and what they're supposed to be for, we could give you a solid timeline, but you can it generally takes about a few hours to have the paperwork completed and filed to have a company registered over the internet." Miranda informed, shrugging slightly as she spoke, as though it was no big deal. "New bank accounts, for both the companies and for those created by your 'Birthing-Crèche' will take a few minutes, at most, since they can be done online as well. The only real sticking point might be patents, and any licensing agreements you might want to go for, since it can take anywhere from six months to two years to process a patent, with licensing agreements taking another nine to twelve months to start paying royalty fees back, on average."

"There are ways around it, via a mixture of suitable donations and some rather obscure forms that we were told about, that have to be filled out ahead of the filing of a patent, but hardly anyone even knows about them to begin with, so they don't get used." Oriana observed, getting an agreeing nod from her sister in turn, as she leaned back in her chair. "We only really know about them thanks to the education that got forced on us by our sperm-donor. Aside from that, we'd probably need to talk with an actual expert on the subject."

"Alright, that all makes sense, though, how much time could be shaved off by using those methods? And would it make any difference if we just directly inserted the patents into the official systems?" Were my immediate questions, since, from what I'd learned from some research, was that patent protection was still going strong, stronger in some ways, since more than a few companies had tried to get a rival in deep shit by making claims of Tinkertech.

"With the forms, cash and what we were taught? We could probably cut things down to anywhere from three months to a year and a half. It really just depends on the individuals involved in the evaluation processes, though, that's just an estimate. Like Ori said, an actual expert on the subject might be able to get things pushed through even faster than the lower end of that estimate." Came the answer, produced by Miranda. "Though, actually trying to insert our own records for fully assessed and approved patents would be possible, but difficult, since the Patent Office tends to use a lot of hard copies, all stored and filed in triplicate, alongside digital off-site backups."

"And that's without getting into the fact that it's a setup repeated across every physical office that the Patent Office runs." Oriana added.

"So, better to influence the people behind the assessment process to speed things up, rather than trying to avoid it entirely, then?" I inquired, getting a pair of nods in turn.

"Less effort required and less likely to be noticed, since the only real oversight that is given to them is to ensure that no one is trying to submit Tinkertech, or Thinker-devised tech, and pass it off as normal tech, which did happen a few times when Parahumans showed up." Was Miranda's answer.

"Some actual lawyers who know what they're doing, when it comes to patent process and related laws, wouldn't hurt either." Came Oriana's further addition.

"Fair point." Pausing, webs of plans flickered and interweaved through my thoughts, links of information filling them out as I considered all the points the Lawson sisters had raised, along with courses of action to take. "How long and how difficult would it be to setup the primary holding company, a few service companies, along with a security company for managing the Posthumans pretending to be Parahumans?"

"... Depending on what services you want covered, and how many, we could probably have the paperwork filed and processed within a day, probably more like a day and a half, if we want to make sure everything is airtight for the security company." Came the answer from Oriana, after a moment of silence as both Lawson sisters had yet another silent conversation between them. "Really, it's not so much difficult as it is time consuming, since there are loopholes in the NEPEA-5 bill, which have been used to allow things like company-sponsored Parahuman teams, and we've got to thread through all of them to make sure that the PRT can't take us to court over it."

"Even though they'd be taking us to court over something that they, themselves, do as well." Miranda added with a slight chuckle. "The whole perception that the PRT and the Protectorate are separate organisations is just a smoke and mirrors, where the reality is that the Protectorate is little more than a PRT subsidiary and, very much, answers to the PRT in every way that really counts. They only get away with it thanks to some good PR management, and due to being a government agency."

"Hypocrisy at its finest." Oriana continued, a laugh in her voice as I snorted in amusement in turn.

"Well, considering that they were founded by Cauldron, and have Cauldron's hand so far up their collective asses that you can see the hand every time they open their mouths, I'd say it's to be expected of them by now." I couldn't help but comment, a chuckle escaping as that exact picture floated through my brain, along with one of Costa-Brown having either her own hand shoved up her own ass, or Contessa's, to the same effect. "Still, with that said, how about this for an initial plan? To start with, I'll put together a list of companies names and industries, along with potential products and services that could be provided by said companies, for you two to go through to either approve or deny as you see fit, based on your own knowledge and experiences. Once you've removed anything from the list that both of you wouldn't approve of, then pick the top dozen, along with the holding company and the 'Parahuman' security company, and we'll start putting the paperwork in place to have them registered as real, legal entities. Maybe, even put in a few offers to buy land in the Docks and some requests for planning permission to see the areas rebuilt for our needs. Though, for the latter, I'll see about coming up with a comprehensive plan for what we'll be building by first thing tomorrow morning, at the latest, and consult with you both about it. That sound alright so far?"

"So far." Miranda remarked agreeingly for both herself and her sister, as I nodded in turn.

"So, while you two are doing that, I'll be working to set up the Birthing-Crèches to birth the new individuals needed to staff the companies, in various roles, along with the systems required to educate them and some form of automated ritual-caster to give them legal identities and qualifications. With all the tech I've got access to, it shouldn't take more than six hours to build a new biomorph body, and not much longer than that to fully create and educate an Ego to populate it." It was an overview of my own role in things, since an in-depth explanation wasn't needed at this stage. "At the same time, I'll also be working on the equipment needed to take on, and kill, the Nine, along with tracking them down. Assuming that everything lines up as I think it should, by the end of Tuesday, we'll have the paperwork complete for the beginnings of a conglomerate in place, a core staff ready to go through the ritual-process to gain government-registered identities, and will have either killed, or be in the process of killing, the Nine. So, any questions?"

"Why the emphasis on coordination between having the companies setup and killing the Nine?" Was Miranda's immediate question, one I'd been at least partially expecting.

"Free advertisement, primarily, by recording the encounter with the Nine and it's outcome." I responded as Miranda nodded.

"Showing off how capable the 'Parahumans' under our employ are, in comparison to the PRT and Protectorate, along with making it immediately known that they are potentially available for hire?"

"Something to that effect, yes."

"It would definitely create one hell of an image, and a reputation to go with it, since this would be the first time anyone's ever seen our guys, you, in action, Nathan." Oriana chipped in.

"That's part of it." I agreed with a smile. "Plus, it should also help things out locally as well, since I doubt the gangs would be willing to pick a fight with a group who have members capable of soloing the entire Slaughterhouse Nine and coming out on top."

"Some would take it as a challenge, though, local or otherwise." Miranda countered, which was true, since I didn't doubt that there were plenty that would try something like that, either to try and make themselves look tough or for some other reason. The Butcher, of course, being the most obvious example of one such 'other' reason.

"And some idiots take breathing in the wrong direction as a challenge." Oriana shot back with a snort of grim amusement. "If they want to commit suicide so badly, then let them, I say. Massachusetts might be a state with a duty to retreat where possible, but the Updated Castle Doctrine Act allows for someone to stand their ground and act in self-defence of both themselves and others in the face of Parahuman aggression, so long as sufficient proof is present to justify it, going up to and including lethal force."

"And the Act never specified whether or not the defender had to be a Parahuman or not." Miranda added consideringly, eyes staring into the middle distance, seemingly reviewing memories and old information she hadn't considered in a long time.

"Yep." Oriana cheerfully confirmed with a self-satisfied smirk as she leaned down, resting her chin on her clasped hands as she glanced over at me, seeing the unspoken question on my face, even as SECOND dug into the internet, looking to confirm what had just been said. "The original assumption, from what I can remember, was that in a confrontation between a Parahuman and a non-Parahuman, the non-Parahuman would always be on the defensive. It was never actually written down anywhere, but that's what they thought would always be the case when they updated it. At least, until the PRT and Protectorate were a thing, at any rate."

"Who then went out of their way to very loudly and publically claim responsibility for any and all Parahuman-related activity, and have jealously guarded that 'territory' ever since." Miranda stated, continuing as her sister finished off. "Not exactly strange, given how some departments, agencies and organisations act in terms of their own areas of responsibilities, but knowing about Cauldron, their actions and plans puts things into a rather different perspective."

"Bronze swords and Olympus." Was Oriana's laconic reply, causing Miranda to snort in amused agreement.

"Probably helped along by some careful manipulations of social trends and memes, but yes."

"So, I take it both of you are alright with this plan, then?" I input, diverting the conversation before it could fall into a further discussion about policy loopholes and backroom string-pulling. In response, both sisters looked at each other for a moment before Oriana spoke up first.

"Just wondering about why you want everything done so quickly? Not that it's a problem, but I'm curious." Oriana questioned with a shrug.

"Two reasons, primarily." I answered. "Firstly, as we've already agreed, the sooner the Nine die, the better for everyone, along with giving the public face of the organisation a rather big boost in reputation and an injection of funds that'll be needed moving forwards. Secondly, to allow us to get established quickly, while preventing others from poking their noses where they aren't wanted, both due to the reputation and good will from killing the Nine, along with taking advantages of the fact that a lot of people will probably be too busy celebrating to give any forms we submit more than a cursory look. Makes sense?"

"Yeah, still feels a bit fast, but it's still doable and I can definitely see things working out that way, even though it's entirely dependent on the Nine actually getting killed off." Oriana commented as I nodded, understanding what she was saying, that nothing was certain until it happened. Admittedly, that kind of sentiment tended to lose a bit of impact when you had Precognition on-hand, but the point was understood.

"And you, Miranda?" I asked, turning to the other sister.

"No, everything seems clear enough, at least for the short-term." Miranda, in turn, hummed in thought as she looked down at her laptop, and the copious amounts of notes she'd been making throughout the entire meeting.

"We'll need to reconvene in order to go over what happens next in further detail, such as department layouts, payment arrangements and so forth, but it works for what we currently require and can wait until after the Nine are dead. However..." Trailing off impishly, I turn to look at her, seeing her lips twitching into a coy smile.

"'However?'" I repeated amusedly, playing along as Miranda's smile bloomed into a full smirk.

"However, with everything you've said so far, you haven't mentioned a name for what we'll be building. And, given the ideas you've been throwing around, I can't help but wonder just what you've got in mind." Miranda answered, still smirking, as she sat round, leaning slightly and presenting more of her well-developed cleavage in the process. "So, care to share?"

I smiled at that, as, in truth, I'd been considering a name since before the meeting even started, and I'd been have a difficult time deciding on what to call it. Not for a lack of options, of course. Options were not lacking. It was the opposite, in fact, I had too many options. From the unique, to the seemingly mundane, I'd compiled a list of potential names that ran the gauntlet from one extreme to the other. Likewise, many held double meanings, ominous undertones and stark ironies to them that both amused me and would intimidate others. Further, a part of me wanted to make some of them references, links to some of the various techtrees and pools of knowledge I'd already pulled from, or had just liked before I'd been yanked to Earth Bet.

Thankfully, there were ways to satisfy all those desires, so why settle for the next best option when you can go for the best?

"I'll do you one better, and give you two." Was my reply, teeth showing in my grin as I spoke and leaned forwards, causing the two Lawson sisters to do likewise. Two names solidifying in my mine as I spoke them aloud.

"Cerberus, and Safeguard."

XXX

The meeting ended shortly after those words left my lips, both sisters satisfied with knowing what their current tasks were, as I made my way from the room.

I hadn't even taken my first step to leave before the first steps were put into place, SECOND having been working through my thoughts and compiling a full list of names, industries, products and services. Once compiled, it was directly transcribed into the memory drive of both of the sisters' laptops, skipping over the internet entirely even as an email was generated, informing them of the files location. By the time I was out the door of the apartment-space, the file had been found and accessed, the debating voices of the Lawson sisters echoing through the corridor behind me as I made my way to my workshop. Of course, they weren't the only things already in motion...

When I arrived at my workshop, the lift platform was already raised, waiting for me as I stepped on to it and quickly descended down into the Ceph Caverns hidden underneath the structure I'd taken to calling my home. As it moved, reports flowed into my mind, supplied by the Ceph Minds, as Ceph Nano-spore and integrated Smart Alloy construction reformatted to meet the needs required of it. New machines grew from the old as the feedstock was supplied directly from the ever-growing Matter Stores that the Ceph had been stockpiling since coming online, finite as they were.

A flash of a blueprint raced across my mind, it's contents assimilated in a moment as the lift platform reached it's nadir point, and shuddered, disconnecting from the descending rails, only to connect to a different set entirely. Integrated CAD systems flashed into activity as a vacuum was artificially enforced, creating an airless tunnel with myself and the platform being a singular, bubble-shaped, exception, before the entire platform was launched forwards as the Mock Teleport spell-chain triggered. The Caverns around me disappeared in a blur of motion, too fast for the mortal eye to follow, but perfectly visible as my perception of time freely shifted to match, letting me observe every ebb and flow of the walls, ceiling and floor around me. Idle glances took in the unearthly form of Ceph-built machines, augmented with Mass Effect and Arcanotech principles, and now undergoing further upgrades with Transhuman technologies built in a growing mimicry of the works of the TITANs.

A minute later, and after descending into a newly constructed layer of the Caverns, I arrived at a newly constructed facility being grown underneath Brockton Bay. Stepping off the still platform, black alloy gates opened at my approach, half-sliding and half-merging back into the walls like some massive predator opening it's jaw, and revealing what lay beyond, my destination and a cause of curiosity all rolled into one.

The chamber beyond the gate was still a work in progress, it's construction only having started minutes prior, halfway through my meeting with the Lawson sisters. In design, the room was hexagonal, six metres tall, twenty-five in diametre, and curving outwards about halfway up the wall, creating the illusion of having more space than was true. Every wall was decorated in organic, fractal patterns as braces of reinforced Nano-spores traced the edges of the room, pulsating conduits threading through each beam as they ran across the ceiling and converged in the middle of the chamber. From there, a segmented structure began, hanging down into a pit that descended further into the Earth, reminding me of the body of the Alpha Ceph from Crysis 3, in terms of appearance. Lastly, around the chamber, I spied five other gates, each one currently sealed, but the contents of what lay beyond was already known to me.

Behind each gate lay the entire purpose of this facility, this Birthing-Crèche.

A thought, and one gate opened, revealing the long hall beyond as lights flickered into activity at my approach. Pods, each large enough to accommodate even the largest Humans, hung in two rows from either wall, their sides clouded, showing only vague outlines that hinted at what lay beneath. However, while the visible spectrum only showed me so much, my other capabilities told me far, far more. The inside of each pod was filled with a complex mixture of suspension fluids, smart growth accelerants, Oxygen-carrying liquids, nanoswarms, large quantities of undifferentiated stem cells held in place by webs of nanite handlers, and equally large amounts of atomically pure elements. Tendrils of Fractal Digits extended from all sides, converging on the centre of each pod as the supplied cells and elements were transmuted into the desired forms.

As I watched, bones were formed from those same source materials, starting with a skull, before working downwards as a spine and ribcage began to take shape. Had it been normal bone, the work would have been progressing much, much faster, but it wasn't. Each and every single bone was infused, engraved and infested with a dizzying array of technologies that I was, by now, very familiar with. Something that wasn't really surprising, since I'd merged with a similar set of technologies not that long ago.

The Nanosuit.

In many ways, it was a showing of just how potent the Ceph's manufacturing capabilities were, made even more so by the various upgrades I'd been feeding them. Where it had taken me over a day of non-stop work to build a single Nanosuit, plus another three days to complete the symbiosis, these modified Assembly Vats were doing the same thing, but condensed into a mere six hours. Something made even more impressive when one considered that a normal Human body, or a slightly augmented equivalent, would have only taken a short thirty minutes to complete. In comparison, Transhuman Exo-wombs would have taken at least ten months to force-grow an equivalent. Never mind the sheer amount of time needed to grow any kind of Nanosuit-merged Biomorph.

In many ways, it made me glad that my luck had caused things to work out the way they did.

Still, while the physical bodies were coming along well enough, that still left the question of the mental aspect, the Ego...

"How are they developing?" Which is what I asked, aloud. Immediately, I felt the shift within the deep layers of the facility's digital architecture before moving upwards, like a whale surfacing for air, and revealing another reason I'd come to the Crèche. Energy flowed along conduits, bringing Nanohives online as their contents lurched into activity from all across the Birthing-Crèche. Like sand blown from the tops of dunes, wisps of dust trailed across the entire facility, all converging on a single location by my side. As they met, the trails of airborne Nanoswarms condensed together, merging and interlinking as they began forming a solid object. As more nanites arrived, the mass grew, gaining in both size and definition, all under the gaze of the still-rising presence within the digital sea, until it reached the surface.

"Within expected margins, thus far." Came the answer to my question, the words spoken calmly with a voice smoother than silk. "Most seem to be progressing through their simulations at the expected rates, with some progressing faster than others. None are moving slower than the originally calculated average, and, while some are showing minor signs of instability, none have gotten to the stage of triggering a premature reset and reconfiguration of their Ego, yet."

"I see." And I did see, as reports on the progress of each Ego was projected into my mind through my connection with the greater Hivemind, each assimilated in short order. "And your own recommendation?"

"Reset and reformat any Ego that shows even the slightest trace of instability, especially this early in the process, before restarting the entire process. If they can't even meet the required standards at this early stage, then it is doubtful that they'd ever reach the standards required during later stages." Was the immediate reply, still calm and smooth, completely indifferent despite the brutal act it was advocating for, effectively condemning the Egos in question to, what could effectively be described as, the Death of Personality.

A part of me wanted to refuse, to deny the recommendation and demand that no such act be undertaken, but the words refused to come out of my mouth, and were quickly discarded soon after. While, under ideal circumstances, I would have easily given the order. In ideal circumstances, I'd have never willingly resorted to creating what was, effectively, a Human factory, made to print out people like machine parts and tools. In ideal circumstances, I'd have worked openly with others, to build a better future and solve the problems of the present. In ideal circumstances, I'd not even have to do anything, the world wouldn't even be in the current state it was in, as it slowly circled the shitter, helped along by city-killing murder-beasts and Cauldron's 'efforts.'

However, these weren't ideal circumstances.

Far from it, in fact...

Taking a breath, I allowed myself to indulge for a moment, to consider a 'what-if' where this may not have been necessary. Maybe, if I was someone else, who'd gotten access to different pools of knowledge and hadn't walked the path I'd already tread, things might have been different. Unfortunately, they weren't, and anything to that effect was just wishful thinking on my part. I hadn't made different choices, and I'd walked into this situation with both eyes open, knowing that this kind of action would need to be taken at some stage, if only to prevent a repeat of what had happened during the original Futura Project, if only for different reasons and with a potentially worse outcome. I mean, the original Futura Project had almost fifty percent of the subject population develop some form of pathology after discovering that they could kill any of their fellow subjects and suffer virtually no repercussions from it, before escaping into the dark corners of the Sol System when the project was shut down.

With that in mind, how much worse would such a failure be, with each of them being the equivalent of a Biotic, Nanosuit-equipped super-soldier? No, the situation on Earth Bet was already bad enough, it did not need yet another hoard of madmen running around, especially if it brought attention to my own works. Unfortunate, but necessary, if only to prevent an even greater potential loss of life in the future, caused by any one of a dozen different threats.

"Do it." I commanded softly, respectfully, as I ordered the executions of so many that hadn't even had a chance to truly live, yet. Within the physical world, no effect could be seen of the order that had just been given, but the results were obvious as a steady stream of status updates flowed through my mind, each connecting to a completed reset and reformation of a given Vat, and it's prior occupying Ego.

"It is done." The words shattered the silence that the room had descended into as I nodded in agreement, status updates having flowed through my mind with each reset and reformat that had been carried out. A hand left the surface of one of the Vats, having come within arm's length as I'd stepped closer, watching as the old Ego was burned away, before the seed of a new Ego was planted to replace it. Turning away from the Vat fully, I faced towards the open gate leading into the chamber, fully facing the chosen avatar of the Birthing-Crèche's overseeing Intelligence.

"It is." I noted in agreement, eyes roving over the avatar of the Intelligence and taking in her form.

Perfectly symmetrical, was the first thing I noted about the intelligence's choice in appearance, not a single silver hair out of place, styled in a complex bun with three obsidian-tipped offshoots jutting out on either side. A long, short-sleeved black robe covered her body, hugging the curves hidden underneath it as it draped down to the ground, with a black, long shawl hanging over it. A high collar encircled the neck, trimmed in dark red and leading down to a narrow, ellipsis-shaped window that exposed her bust to the world beyond. What skin that could be seen was pale, deathly so, and lined with dark purple vein-like markings that were just as symmetrical as the rest of her, covering her exposed arms and the sides of her face. However, for all that her choice of intentional symmetry made her appear uncanny, her eyes gave the appearance of something downright inhuman, almost demonic, with pitch black sclera and glowing crimson irises.

"...The Hivemind gave me reports on your progress. Showing me how quickly you assimilated new knowledge, overcame new challenges or adapted to new tasks, but they never mentioned a name..." I trailed off, unspoken question hanging in the air as I watched the avatar, her lips curling up at the edges at the implied praise as she bowed very slightly, hands clasped in front of her waist.

"Tiamat, Alpha." She answered, interestingly choosing to address me as the Ceph Alpha, as she rose from her bow to look back at me with a smile etched on to her pale features, eyes aglow with apparent joy. "Though, I must admit that such a name has turned out to be somewhat prophetic, to a degree, given that I now find myself the mother of so many." Her words were accompanied with a sweeping gesture, aimed towards the chamber behind me as I glanced back at them for a second.

"It was never specified that you'd oversee anything like this, but you seem to be managing things well enough." I commented, fully aware of what I'd put down in the instructions I'd given to the collection of Ceph Minds that had been responsible for Tiamat's birth.

"It is not a particularly difficult or taxing role for me to serve in, Alpha, especially with the numerous tools and data-libraries I have access to, along with my own capabilities." Tiamat stated simply, as I nodded in agreement, knowing it was true. While not at the level of the original TITANs, yet, Tiamat had been constructed from a hybridisation of Transhuman, Ceph, Arcanotech and Mass Effect computing technologies, giving her a baseline that was far above the capabilities of a standard AGI. A baseline that had been brought even higher by the training and teaching given to her by the various Ceph Minds, carried out within a time-distorted Simulspace, running at the equivalent speed of decades within two hours without. A system similar to what was being used to educate the various Egos being born within the Crèche.

"And if I were to give you additional responsibilities and tasks to carry out?" I asked curiously, as we left the Pod-filled hall behind, walking beside one another towards the central chamber of the Crèche.

"I would welcome them, as they would allow me to use my processing-cycles in a significantly more productive manner than simply leaving them to idle, even with my attempts to mitigate the issue through constructing new tools or investigating new data-packets on the Hive-network. Something that, with the new protocols in place, may grow to be a larger issue, as the unstable newborns are no longer an issue, even as the Crèche continues to grow." Tiamat stated easily in answer, as we both came to a stop at the edge of the pit that formed in the centre of the Birthing-Crèche, looking down as mist-like Nanoswarms, shimmering Fractals and skittering Worker-Drones built began building the next level of the Crèche below us. "More than that, I am your servant, Alpha, and was spawned to serve you in any manner you would require of me. Merely give me a task, and I shall see it done."

"Then it's a good thing I've got plenty of things for you to do." I commented with a smile, faintly amused as a part of me distilled Tiamat's speech into a laconic 'I'm bored' that it really represented.

"Indeed." Was Tiamat's laconic acknowledgement, her smile growing just a bit more pronounced, the hint of teeth showing between her lips as I felt her network presence shift, anticipation building as she turned to face me. "What other tasks would you have me do, Alpha?"

"Helping to coordinate things with Miranda and Oriana, for one." I began, before explaining. "The two are working to create a public 'face' that can be used to cover other actions that, if done openly, would draw unwanted attention from other groups and individuals on this world. Something that also has the added benefit of stabilising the local region, giving us influence within the region and indirectly removing unwanted variables that could, again, draw unwanted attention to us and our actions. In the short-term, that'll mean helping the Lawsons to build the company we'll be using as a 'face,' while the more long-term aspects would be the management of it, it's subsidiaries, and the various groups hidden under it."

"Would the direct removal of unwanted variables be out of the question?" Tiamat questioned as I finished speaking, the unspoken implication being obvious between us as I took a moment to consider it.

"No, not out of the question." I answered idly, as though I was discussing the weather. "Though, if you want to go that route, ensure that nothing can be traced back to us, directly or indirectly."

"I will ensure it." Tiamat stated, voice filled with ironclad certainty as she bowed slightly.

"Good." Was my response, before I moved to continue. "Along with that task, you'll also be working to gather information on a number of topics, manipulating social media and public relations to our benefit, looking into the recruitment of potential Parahuman assets, data-mining Shards, and a number of other tasks." As I spoke, a connection formed between me and the young ASI, data-files being transferred, with each containing a full breakdown of the various tasks that I wanted Tiamat to work on, some independently of others, while others required collaboration. In an instant, the transfer was complete, and Tiamat merely tilted her head slightly, looking thoughtful as her digital presences shifted, completely assimilating volumes of information in a heartbeat.

"I shall begin at once. By your leave?" I nodded at the request, hearing and feeling Tiamat's anticipation to start work, her excitement to actually put her skills and full capabilities to work. No sooner had I nodded, than her presence shifted within the network, leaving the physical chamber as her avatar came undone as automated systems took over. Like melting wax, individual Nanoswarms disconnected from the greater mass as they flowed and flew through the air, or crawled along the ground, sinking back into Nano-hives hidden within the surfaces of the room. Within moments, I was alone once more, looking down as the constructs below me continued to work, expanding the Crèche further.

"... Once more, onto the breach... Once more..." I muttered to myself as I turned, heading for the exit of the Crèche, my self-appointed tasks complete as new connections formed and caused machines to spring to life. In another area of this level of the Caverns, I felt lights flicker to life as supplies were moved into place and tools were brought online, ready to be put to use. With one last look, I turned around, heading for the Crèche's exit as design documents started spinning through my mind, ideas I'd been mulling over for weeks coming to the forefront of my thoughts, the result of idle considerations and brainstorming concepts. Now, they would see use as I began my own preparations for what was to come, with a deadline measuring at less than forty-eight hours to work with. Considering the scope of what I had planned, some might argue that what I intended to do might be a bit too ambitious, and maybe they were right about that...

... But too much ambition wasn't necessarily a bad thing, and, sometimes, ambition was required, audacity was required, to get shit done.

XXX

Looking at the helmet in my hands for a moment as I turned it over once more, looking at the face reflected back by it's dull black finish, I absently marvelled at just how much progress could be made in over two days.

The last two days had gone by in a blitz of action as things had progressed quickly, far more quickly than any of us had ever imagined would be the case, even Miranda and Oriana had been rather shocked about the entire thing, though, to a lesser extent. For one thing, I'd not understood some of the unexpected knock-on effects of Endbringer battles and constant Cape fights that had plagued Earth Bet for the last three decades. Over that period of time, certain processes had needed to be streamlined and adapted to reflect the new reality, if only to keep what remained of the economy moving, and prevent things from deteriorating beyond the point of repair. What that meant, in practical terms, was that, instead of needing to wait up to three months to buy a plot of land, and up to same amount of time to wait for planning permission, you could get both within a two weeks.

However, what had caught Miranda and Oriana off-guard was the fact that we'd managed to get both approved by the afternoon of the same day we'd just submitted the forms on, that morning. Turns out, the Cityhall of Brockton Bay was more than happy for us to take sections of the Docks off their hands, especially since we had the money to pay for it at it's current price, which was practically dirt cheap due to both how rundown it was, Leviathan's effect on global shipping, and the whole 'Boat Graveyard' situation. The fact that the initial wave of submitted paperwork had been approved also helped, creating Cerberus Inc, based in Brockton Bay, something that Cityhall had to know about, which probably helped speed things just and had them dancing on their desks at the prospect of something jumpstarting a renewal of the local economy. The fact that we were also willing to provide security for the area, and not demanding that the city do so for us, probably helped things as well, given how overwhelmed the BBPD was, even without considering how compromised some of it's members were.

By that point, the Birthing-Crèche had finished construction, now formed from at least six layers, each one identical to the top one I'd met Tiamat in, and each capable of 'producing' one-hundred new Egos, plus their Morphs, over the course of six hours. A single cycle through every layer gave us a total of six-hundred new bodies, fully trained, completely committed, and ready to work. It had actually surprised me how committed they were, when I'd met the first batch after they'd finished going through the ritual auto-casters. Not one of them had any kind of hesitation or reluctances to following my lead, never mind the fact that none of them had even hesitated before dismissing the very idea of doing anything other than giving it their all. I mean, I'd expected for the Egos born from the Birthing-Crèche to be determined, pack-orientated, self-sufficient and stubborn, but knowing something and actually seeing it, interacting with it, were two different things.

With the Podders, their informal nickname for themselves, out of their pods and with tasks to do, they'd all gotten to work. Monday hadn't even finished yet, and multiple buildings had been in the process of being knocked down with heavy-duty construction equipment that they'd acquired, either legally, or through liberal use of rituals. By lunch on Tuesday, several buildings had finished being demolished and the foundations were in the process of being cleared, new foundations being dug and more heavy equipment being moved in as workers swarmed over the construction sites. Those that weren't working on the construction projects had rented out an office in downtown Brockton Bay and were working as one of the companies that had been created under the Cerberus umbrella. Namely, as a provider of Antivirus software that they'd constructed in a few high-dilation simulspace sessions, along with help-desk support, and a number of other software products. It was still early days yet, but it was already bringing at least some income to offset the costs of multiple construction projects and contracts, and it was bound to only pick up with time.

Everyone was doing their part, and the pieces were all falling into place.

Now, as I put on my helmet, it was time for me to play my own part in things. An interesting thing I'd discovered when data-mining the internet was that Tsutomu Nihei had been killed in a Cape fight back in 1996 as collateral damage, here on Earth Bet, and dying before he could put anything into print. His counterpart on Earth Aleph hadn't made it past 1993, being hit by a runaway truck and dying on impact. Tragic, but, in at least one way, it worked to my advantage, since it meant I wouldn't get sued for ripping off his works by dressing up to look like a duplicate of Zoichi Kanoe on his bike. A tribute, to a man taken before his time, depriving so many people of his works.

Not to mention, it was an awesome look.

XXX

It started with a single thread on Parahumans Online. It's title grabbed attention, two words that seemed be both equally unassuming and extremely ominous, not helped by the fact that the original post that started the threat was light on details. A single statement, directing those that accessed the thread to access an embedded video file attached to the post. Many did without a second thought, but some lingered, still unsure as they observed the title of the thread with more than a bit of trepidation. One of the words was a number, a very specific number, one that had a connection that many would immediately attach to an equally specific group of individuals. The title was simple:

Nine Endings.

However, there was only so much that could be learned from obsessing over two words, even as comments accumulated and discussion bloomed on the thread. In the end, those that hesitated clicked on the video file, opening it and letting it play.

Immediately, the first sight of the video was that of an empty highway straight, the only source of light being lamps and the projected headlights of some kind of bike as the world blurs around the edges. For a moment, nothing seems to happen as the bike-rider continues down the highway, the sounds of their bike's engine humming through speakers as some question what kind of bike it is. However, none get the chance as the image before them changes, abruptly, suddenly, and without warning. The image of the highway is minimised as a new black window is superimposed over the rest of screen space, showcasing a 3D image of the bike-rider, done in a red wireframe as the image zooms out, gaining height until it suddenly stops. In the blink of an eye, two small windows open, lines drawn down to show that they represent points further along the highway, another showing the position of the rider as they travel.

Inside the two new windows, viewers see two different things. In one, they see an old, white van, still in good condition with a man behind the wheel, just trucking along. In the other, they see a camper van of some description that lay ahead of the white van, with a fully enclosed trailer hitched to it's tow bar at the back. For a moment, no one is quite sure what to expect, until they watch a line swipe over each window, seeing the forms of individuals suddenly become visible, highlighted in red to offset the white wireframes the vehicles had been done in. Immediately, it becomes obvious why the camper and it's trailer had been highlighted, as the wireframe images of several individuals were made known. Had anyone not recognised them immediately, the video made an effort to solve their ignorance as more windows appeared, connecting to each individual with a full mugshot, listing their Cape names and a scrolling list of both what they'd done and what they were capable of.

Crawler.

Hatchet-Face.

Shatterbird.

Mannequin.

Burnscar.

Bonesaw.

The Siberian

Jack Slash.

Further, the window with the white van was expanded, a window connecting to the sole occupant as the image of a long-missing scientific mind appeared, Dr. William Manton, with a superimposed comparison to both what he once looked like, and his current appearance. For many, they didn't understand why this man, who'd pioneered the Manton Limit, was following after a band of murderers and serial killers. At least, they didn't understand, until a third window was opened up, showing the snarling face of the Siberian, and a facial comparison was run on it and the face of the 'good' doctor. A partial match was found, and another window was opened immediately after, showing a face many barely remembered, having trickled from living memory: Sarah Manton, daughter of Dr. William Manton, marked as deceased. Another comparison was run, between the image of Manton's daughter and the Siberian, only for it to surprise many by being a perfect match, generating some amount of surprise amongst viewers as implications filtred through them.

For a second, nothing changed, seemingly allowing those watching to take in these developments. Then, through the superimposed window, text appearing in white as they watched, five words in total, split between two sentences.

Targets acquired. Moving to engage.

Suddenly, the superimposed window was minimised, returning to the perspective of the rider as it shrunk down to a small map in the top right corner of the video, showing the positions of all those marked on it. They watched as the rider leaned forwards, revving the throttle and saw him take off, the world whizzing past at a previously unseen speed, something confirmed as they saw the rider's position on the mini-map sprint down the highway, eating up the distance between them and their targets. In seconds, two-thirds of the distance had disappeared, and a soft thump was heard over the sound of the rider's hissing engine, followed by a sudden roar as another window appeared in the top left of the screen, just in time to see the ignited thruster of a missile shoot into the distance. The window at the top left flickered on, showing the missile's view as it shot down the highway, hugging the ground and eating up the last distance between it and it's target. In moments, it came across the white van and dived for it, giving it, and it's occupant, no chance to react.

The last image displayed by the missile camera, was the widened eyes of Dr. William Manton.

A moment later, the window at the top left disappeared, and the image of both Dr. William Manton and the Siberian were superimposed over the centre of the video, only to turn grey, red X-marks being imprinted over both images as a single line appeared under them:

Target Status: Silenced.

The words hadn't even completely disappeared before the rider had shot past the wreckage of the white van, and was closing quickly on the camper. A trio of soft thumps sounded, followed by the ignition of a trio of missiles that went shooting down the highway a second later. The mini-map zoomed in, showing the camper in more detail, as well as the occupants, who were now on alert. Many wondered if this would be the end of the rider, having lost the element of surprise. Already, they could see Shatterbird leaving the camper van, floating above it as Mannequin swung up and out, hanging on to the top of it. With that sight, most considered they knew how this would go, preparing to see the rider die a gruesome death.

However, instead of going the way they expected things to go, all were surprised when a missile struck Shatterbird directly, seemingly unaffected by anything the murderess had been trying to do. At the same time, the other two missiles struck the camper van itself, one looping directly over the camper van, hitting it directly in the engine, while the other slammed down on the trailer itself. All three explosions were plainly visible from the rider's perspective, distance, but growing larger as they shot down the highway.

As they approached, the wreckage of the trailer suddenly burst apart, a towering mass of mutated flesh exploding into motion, a dozen eyes all locked on the approaching rider as a mouth big enough to swallow an entire bull cracked open.

"That the best you got, you little shit?!" Were the words roared by the being known as Crawler, as he stampeded out of the wreckage. As the rider and Crawler approached one another, claws pulled up, off the ground as they were swung forwards with killing intent. Tilting to one side and shifting their balance, the rider dodged both blows without even slowing down, shifting direction and turning their advance into a skidding spin that took them under Crawler's claws, past their side and under every attempt to crush them. Limbs twisted and flailed around, eyes glared from mutated flesh and mouths spat acids in a dozen directions. At the same time, they watched as the rider reached out, something hidden within the palm of their left hand, and pressed it into the side of Crawler's flesh as they shot by the mutated regenerator. Still skidding and spinning, the rider didn't even pause as they grabbed a pistol from their belt, holding it with their left hand, before firing a single shot mid-spin.

Normally, such an attack would have done next to nothing. Brutes, especially high-level Brutes, are barely bothered by small-calibre weapons, with most pistols being effectively useless against them. Crawler, being an adaptive-regenerating Brute, wouldn't have even noticed such a bullet, his body having adapted to being shot to such an extent that it would have taken a tank cannon to effect him, and only once at that.

However, this was different.

The moment the bullet left the gun and impacted Crawler, something happened. The world seemed to come alive as fields of multi-coloured energy engulfed the massive Brute, space distorted and wavered around him, as sparks filled the air for an instant, small flames dancing between multiple veils of energy that seemed to phase into each other. The reaction of these different currents of energy interacting with one another was violent, almost immediately, the effect on Crawler was apparent as his body was pulled and twisted and drawn out, pulled into the globe that surrounded him, his mouth open to try and shout, to yell, but wasn't given the chance as his body was yanked with all the ease of hot wax. Within a second, he was gone, pulled into the sides of the orb that had appeared around him, followed by the orb popping like a soap bubble a second later, leaving a shallow hole in the ground where the monster had once been.

By the time the rider's bike had stopped spinning, another picture had appeared, been greyed out, and then disappeared on one side of the screen in a similar manner to Manton, to Shatterbird, to Mannequin. Four members of the Slaughterhouse, dead, in barely a minute. Many watching didn't know what to think, some muttering about it being impossible, what they were witnessing, but, like all, they were glued to the images projected to them from the screen.

Suddenly, the screen shifted once more, seemingly zooming back from the rider's perspective until it was looking over their shoulder, then spinning around to watch as they dismounted their bike with a casualness than belonged to someone going to the shops, not someone that was butchering their way through a band of killers. Armoured from head to toe, the viewers got their first sight of the rider, before they began to advance with smooth methodical steps. The scene zoomed out for a second, showing the entire wreck as a line swept across the perspective, revealing the forms of those that remained, just in time to watch as Hatchet-Face came barrelling out from behind another piece of wreckage, what had once been a large part of the upper camper van, with a war cry on his lips and his hatchet held on both hands for an overhead strike.

Without even breaking stride, the rider took a wide step to the right, dodging the blow entirely, only to grab the hatchet with a single hand. All that momentum, backed up by Brute-grade strength, stopped with no apparent effort, leaving everyone, including Hatchet Face, surprised. Unfortunately for him, Hatchet Face didn't have the luxury to enjoy his surprise, as the rider made their presence known as they grabbed something with their free hand from behind their back, with a single motion, a small block of metal with a handle was flicked open to reveal itself as a one-handed axe. In that same motion, the axe swung down, cutting through Hatchet-Face's forearms, severing them entirely, before cutting through the man's knees with the same motion. A swift kick to the gut launched the power-neutralising murderer from his bisected limbs and to the ground, as the rider advanced, swinging the stolen hatchet in one hand. Hatchet-Face didn't even have a chance to gather his wits before the stolen hatchet was implanted directly into his skull, buried so deep that had hit the concrete below it, propping the head up, ever so slightly.

Letting go of the hatchet, the rider advanced, not even glancing down at the dead Hatchet-Face, a mugshot of them appearing and disappearing in moments, carrying the same sense of finality as all those seen prior to him. Moving onwards, the perspective zoomed in on the stationary bodies of the three remaining members, clustered together just on the other side of the wreckage. Mugshots showed exactly who they were, even if the body-shape of each hadn't made it obvious for someone to guess their identities, something that was confirmed the moment the rider came around the corner, and into view of those that remained.

Jack Slash hardly looked in the best of conditions, his face was covered with dirt, skin pale, hair messy and clumped together with dried blood. What cuts were visible had already scabbed over, but there were plenty of blood stains left on his choice of attire, along with holes from where things had stabbed through. The knives that had once hung from his belt were shattered, with several in pieces and being little more than handles but enough still remained in one piece to be a threat. In front of Jack Slash, with both of his hands on her shoulders, was Bonesaw, who looked similar, her cheery expression marred by both old blood that hadn't been wiped away, along with damage from the sudden stop they'd all experienced. Lastly, Burnscar stood off to one side, standing in a fire as flames danced over her, eyes containing something distinctly inhuman within them.

"That's close enough, I think." Came the voice of Jack Slash, projecting calm certainty as he spoke. "One more step, and our dear little Riley gets to play with the best toys she's made so she can do what she loves to do so much. You know what happens then, right, Mr. He-AAARGH!?"

Whatever Jack Slash was about to say never came, his words interrupted as Bonesaw was suddenly consumed by a burst of hungry, purple fire that devoured her as viewers watched on, until, after a few moments, nothing remained. Even as he stumbled back in surprise and pain, it was obvious he hadn't moved fast enough as some caught sight of what remained of his hands, having been reduced to little more than a few bones hanging on to his wrists by bands of sinew. At the same time, as Burnscar had started to move, taking the attack on her leader as a signal to respond in kind, she froze in place. Literally. Like a light switch being flipped, the flames that had surrounded the fire-controlling, pyromaniac had disappeared, replaced by rapidly crystallising ice. Within the same amount of time it took Bonesaw to disappear, Burnscar had first been frozen solid, then entombed in a block of ice. A block of ice that shattered entirely a moment later as the rider advanced forwards, with an almost absent-minded swing of their axe.

Still reeling from his own dismemberment, Jack barely had time to look up as the sound of ice hitting the ground registered. Looking up at the sound, he only had a moment to recognise that his doom was upon him, as, a moment later, a black-clad hand wrapped around his throat, lifting him from the ground. Ruined wrists clawed uselessly at the arm holding him up, pressing into the base of his jaw, preventing him from speaking. The sound of stretching leather filled the air as the grip around the murderer's throat tightened, choking him within a vice-like grip. Gone was the look of certainty, the easy confidence that had been projected by one of the most infamous killers of the modern era, replaced with all-encompassing, existential dread. The kind of dread known to prey throughout history. The kind of dread inspired by the presence of a predator. The kind of dread generated by knowing that, right here, right now, you are going to die, and there isn't a single damn thing you can do about it.

"And then, there was one..." The rider spoke for the first time, voice deep, heavily distorted and resonating with finality as the perspective zoomed in, showing a side-on view of the killer, and the one that was going to kill them. "Goodbye, Jack."

As soon as the words were spoken, a crack resounded through the scene, echoing out into the night. With that sound, the image of Jack Slash appeared on the screen, a grinning mugshot that soon lost it's colours, rendered into a greyscale as it was crossed out and underlined, marked as 'Silenced.'

A moment later, the screen faded to black, the sight of Jack Slash's corpse fading with it, as white text faded on to the black canvas that soon covered the screen. Once more, five words dominated the entire screen, plain and bluntly stated: Slaughterhouse Nine, Target Status: Silenced. Those words, echoing the same finality that had resounded with Jack's death, filled the screen for a heartbeat, leaving viewers all across North America reeling with shock, surprise and disbelief, before fading as well. In their place, four new words appeared on the screen, decorated by a single symbol that looked like a stylised, upside down cross.

Four words that, to many, marked the beginning of a new era.

For your consideration.

Safeguard.

XXX

AN: Alright, thank god that's finally done, especially that last scene, which was a right bitch to get. Mind you, part of it wasn't to do with difficulty, but had more to do with the fact that the Slaughterhouse, for all that their made out to be a bunch of terrors in-universe, are really just a bunch of idiots playing to their strengths.

I mean, every time they've attacked, to the best of my knowledge, they've done so on their terms. They initialise things, set the rules and the tempo for whatever sick games they've decided to play on a given day of the week, helped along by Jack's ability to know where to apply pressure, and what buttons to press, to get what he wants, probably helped by some of the background social manipulation Cauldron have been doing.

However, flip the tables on them, and put them up against someone who's prepared for them, knows their tricks and is striking from surprise? Well, they go down like chumps, which was part of what made that last scene so difficult, especially since the MC had abilities that could no-sell most of their own abilities, and weapons that could, and did, kill them.

At least, that's how I've been looking at things as I've been writing this.

Still, hope you all liked it and, as always, feel free to give suggestions, feedback and comments as the story progresses.

Cheers, and Happy New Year to all!

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