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Chapter 120: Imprisoning Gods
🕑 Added 2023-01-17 18:26:23 +0000 UTC“Sir, we’ve taken all of Neuron’s children into custody, and are beginning the forensics sweep of the lair.” John said. Solaris’s assistant was juggling a massive stack of papers, some of which had Solaris’s name on them.
“Where’d they get put?” Solaris asked, accepting the paperwork from John and making it neat on his desk.
“The Great Wall Resort. We didn’t have an orphanage big enough to house all of them, and I didn’t want to split them up, so I commandeered a couple floors of the resort to house them and their babysitters.”
“Lucky them. Most orphanages don’t have a pool and wifi.” Solaris muttered.
“Did I do wrong?” John asked.
“Nah, they’ve more than earned it.” Solaris waved it off. “I was looking through the data Chemestro sent us, hoping that we could copy whatever method Neuron used to mass-produce Triggers. Long story short: We can’t because we’re not child-torturing Nazis.”
“I see.” John nodded.
Solaris pulled up the image of the tumor in Benjamin’s brain, taken from Neuron’s own files. Neuron had been far too paranoid to trust a super-surgeon to mess around in his noggin, so instead he’d tried his hand at creating a legacy. Only problem was the tumor gradually made him even more paranoid and prone to fits of rage, nearly ruining the legacy he’d tried to build: His children.
The dorms had been rigged with nerve gas, for god’s sakes!
“Make an obituary for one Benjamin Thompson. Father of many, wished he could’ve done more.” Solaris said, slipping the polaroid of Benjamin from before the accident over to his assistant.
“Yessir.”
“The forensics sweep, you already have a draft of their ‘conclusion’?” Solaris asked.
“Of course.”
“Alright, gimmie that one and when the real report comes in, send it to my office.” Solaris said, accepting the fake forensics report that shifted all blame onto Neuron. It was probably startlingly close to the truth, anyway.
“And how’s the egg?” Solaris asked.
“We’re having a…very hard time getting close enough to inspect it. There are… root-like disturbances in reality that weren’t there when Neuron took over stewardship of it in the nineties. We suspect that they may have contributed to both his illness and his rapid rise in power.”
“Well, why didn’t he tell us!?” Solaris demanded.
“He may have already began succumbing to paranoia when they first began growing.”
“Damnit, Ben,” Solaris muttered, massaging his temple. “I can’t risk getting close to that thing. Assign some normies to keep the site sealed. Men and women with families. Keep it up until we can get a new watchdog for the site. I want someone rock solid, you understand?”
“Yessir.” John nodded, making a note. “Anything else?”
“Nah, give me a couple minutes to think.” Solaris said, slouching back in his chair.
“I’ll be right back, then,” John said, marching off to make shit happen.
Ding! Solaris’s computer notified him of a new email. Something it only did for a select few people, most of them Anchors. Solaris shrugged and opened it up. Maybe it was another letter from BreedmeSolaris. Those always cheered him up.
From BigBrain@BBE.com
Solaris sighed and rubbed his face before clicking on the email.
Hey old man! If you’re reading this, then my vital signs have ceased. Here is a document with all the blackmail materials on everyone I hate. Enjoy!
Right at the top of the frankly impressive list of supers and celebrities, was Paradox, likely added most recently.
Solaris shrugged and opened the link.
The Case for Paradox being Mechanaut’s Magnum Opus on Par with Dr. Replica’s Hive, and a Similar Threat to Humanity, in Need of Immediate Extermination.
Feb. 2003, A human and Manitian have a child. Evidence of gene-tampering to allow such a thing to happen, listed below:
Eyes have flecks of a faint iridescent green indicative of a radical modification of the M-343 gene, while fingernail keratin burns with a pinkish hue, which shows an accumulation of-
Solaris heaved a deep breath, got up and poured himself a cup of coffee. This is gonna be a long morning.
***Paradox***
“You seem pretty calm,” Perry said as he and Chemestro were herded along with the dozen or so new supers through Nexus processing.
Chemestro glanced up at the humorless grey stone ceiling as they walked through the entry hall, bedrolls in hand.
“Feels like home.” He said with a shrug.
“You realize that’s a bad thing, right?” Perry asked.
Chemestro gave him a blank stare.
Perry returned it.
“Paradox, step forward and receive your emotional support animal.” The pair of supers at the end of the line motioned Perry forward. They were both women, one Latina and short, while the other was white with brown hair and a bit of a severe Karen face. They seemed about twenty-five and thirty, respectively.
The white woman took what looked like a puppy out of a sack, handing it to the Latina girl, who cooed at the squirming furball until it seemed to go mad with excitement in her arms.
“I don’t need a-“
“They’re standard issue,” the shorter woman said, shoving the puppy into Perry’s hands. The puppy seemed confused for a moment, adjusting itself in Perry’s arms before looking up at him.
Perry felt immediate, unconditional love from the tiny little bastard. It accepted him for who he was and would love him no matter what he did. He actually felt it radiating off of the puppy like some kind of tangible force that had been directed at Perry.
This has gotta be some kind of superpower.
“Move along to the next station.” The older woman said, waving Perry away as she pulled out another puppy, this one with loose skin and a stubby face.
“Chemestro, step forward and receive your emotional support animal.”
Perry shrugged and turned the corner to the next station.
“Good evening Paradox, I see you’ve got your emotional support animal,” the man behind the desk said.
It was a buttoned-down bureaucrat with slicked down hair and a three-piece suit making notes on an old-fashioned piece of paper. Probably to prevent technopaths from dicking with the records.
“Beside me is a hallway that leads to the outside world.” The man said, motioning to the open hall next to him. Perry could hear faint traffic noises coming from the end of the hall. “You will notice a yellow line at the entrance of the hall, and a red line halfway through. Please step over the yellow line.”
“What’s it gonna do?” Perry asked, justifiably suspicious.
“You will be completely unharmed. I don’t have all day.”
Perry shrugged and stepped over the yellow line.
The puppy in his hands began to tremble, and Perry frowned, glancing down at it.
Pain, pain, pain.
Perry could see the little animal was in extreme pain as it looked back up at him with big, watering eyes. And yet, it still loved him with every ounce of its being. It was confused though, at the pain Perry was inflicting on it, wondering if perhaps it deserved it.
Perry immediately stepped back over the yellow line and the puppy stopped trembling, relaxing in his arms.
“Your emotional support animal has been psychically registered to you, if you cross a yellow line, break a rule, or use your powers without permission, you will witness it suffer. If you cross a red line or attempt escape, it will die.”
“You monsters!” Perry said, clutching the squirming bundle to his chest.
“Believe it or not, a weapons-grade emotional blackmail is the most effective method for containing supers that has ever been invented. Enjoy your stay at The Workshop. Now move along.” He idly waved Perry forward.
Perry kept an eye out for yellow lines as he advanced forward, now highly suspicious of anything more being offered to him.
Perry frowned as the grey concrete floor turned into a carpet with a vibrant pattern designed to hide spills. The line Perry had been following ended at a pair of double doors with an AI retinal scanner.
The robotic arm buried in the wall reached out and shoved a camera in Perry’s face.
“Welcome to The Workshop Paradox,” A pleasant woman’s voice emanated from the nearby speakers in a vaguely familiar accent. “Seek the room number printed on your bedding.”
The double doors swung open and a waft of ozone preceded the sight of dozens of prisoners just kind of…lounging.
Above them, Perry spotted signs indicating where everything was.
< -- Spa/Fitness center
< -- Pool
< -- Massage
Rec Room -- >
Computer room/Library -- >
^
Dormatories/Workshop
“What is this, a freakin’ resort?” Perry asked, Chuck Norris squirming in his grasp as the dog spotted all the other puppies following their prisoners around.
Your name is Chuck Norris, by the way. And I will be very disappointed in you if you’re not unrealistically better than all the other puppies.
I’ll shorten it to Chuck, though. Perry thought as Chuck tried to lick his face.
“What’s a Rec room?” Chemestro asked, reading the signs from a half-step behind Perry.
Perry scoffed and shook his head, crossing the yellow line into the Workshop and following the signs to the dorms.
Let’s see…room thirteen two fifty-five. To free up his hands, Perry set Chuck down, and the puppy immediately began to follow him, with a highly suspicious level of discipline. A real puppy would’ve immediately began sniffing at things, chewing the furniture, and digging in places they shouldn’t.
Those two supers don’t have Wikis, but it makes sense they’d want to keep them under wraps. The less information about them, the less likely someone develops a counter.
One probably makes the puppies, while the other is a Minder who creates the empathic link.
“Do you poop, Chuck?” Perry asked, glancing down at his puppy, which cocked its head back at him, with no understanding, but pure love.
“Because I don’t smell any dog shit despite every prisoner having a puppy way too young to be potty trained.”
Chuck yipped.
“That’s what I thought. Who’s a good freak of science? What are you, an android? Incapable of aging? Bio-engineered? Reveal your secrets to me, dog.”
Chuck ran circles around Perry’s legs as he walked, nearly tripping him.
It was especially irritating, because despite his suspicions that Chuck was not a real dog, Perry couldn’t quite imagine himself trying to escape and killing Chuck in the process.
“That’s a doozy of a mental whammy,” Perry thought aloud. Pretty sure it was the short girl that did it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Perry saw someone following him.
He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Chemestro, looming over him in his prison jumpsuit, a floppy bulldog puppy resting on his forearm.
“The hell are you following me for?” Perry asked.
“I’m not following you,” Chemestro said, motioning to his bedding.
13255
“Ah, damnit,” Perry groaned. This is gonna be a long week.
***
Around the pool were dozen of incarcerated supervillains and new triggers, just lazily talking about the business and giving them an informal education in how to play The Game.
It wasn’t segregated by gender, because there were women who could melt your face off, so violence wasn’t really as much of a concern as in a normal prison.
Perry saw Andy the Giant standing next to the pool with a keg of beer in his hand, in nothing but a speedo. He had a woman riding his shoulder like a parrot as he set up a pair of chairs to fit his massive body.
It’s like my pool party all over again. Matter of fact, there were three supers who’d been present at Perry’s, including Andy.
Perry struggled to understand how this was a punishment. It seemed like a 24/7 party with all the cool kids from around the city.
“Hey, kid, First time in The Workshop?” A slender man with brown eyes and a big grin approached Perry, wearing a tropical-themed swimsuit that stabbed the eyes with its garish color.
He was clutching cup full of pina colada and Perry could see the whites around his eyes.
“Yeah…” Perry said, glancing around. “I assumed this was a prison?”
“I mean, it is,” The man said, stirring his drink with the straw and taking a sip. “But Nexus places a much higher emphasis on containment than punishment. To that end, they designed this prison with multiple compelling reasons not to leave. One of the simplest is that it’s really fun here.”
Andy picked up a shrieking woman and threw her in the pool before the pool itself leapt up and grabbed Andy, dragging the chuckling giant into the water, which was only chest deep on him.
“I like swimming, it takes the weight off my joints,” Andy’s ultra-bass voice rumbled through the chatter.
“I’ve only ever heard that it was awful,” Perry said, peeling his eyes away from the partying supers.
“Yeah, there’s a waiver you gotta sign on the way out that says you’ll only talk about how bad it is. It’s written by Mephisto, so it’s soul-binding. You gotta say The Workshop is awful. It does not however, prevent winking.”
The skinny man with the manic eyes winked, then froze for a moment.
“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself,” he said, offering Perry his hand. “I’m Cecil, a regular here, how about you?”
“Paradox.” Perry said, shaking his hand.
“Paradox!? Hexen’s kid? Wow!” He glanced down at Perry’s hands. “You know what, your hands look a little empty, They’re serving pina coladas at the bar, one sec.”
‘Cecil’ turned away and snagged another cup filled with pina colada from the bar before offering it to Perry.
Perry lifted the drink to his lips before pausing as a question occurred to him.
“So where’s the Workshop portion of the Workshop? When am I supposed to do the Tinker slave-labor I heard about?”
‘Cecil’ was staring at the drink in Perry’s hands with undisguised anticipation, and Perry’s question shook him out of it.
“What? Oh, from about nine to one, anybody that’s got a useful power has a customized work detail created by an individual non-powered handler. That includes Tinkers, Energy types, Catalysts, what have you.”
“So it’s not like standing on an assembly line getting shouted at?”
“Nah, Every Tinker is wildly different, and their powers don’t get along well with each other, so an assembly line setup would never work.”
‘Cecil’ shrugged. “Except maybe for an Industrial Tinker, but none of them are poor enough to be slumming it here with us.”
Perry glanced around at the opulent indoor pool. “Slumming it. Right.”
He raised the drink to his lips, then paused and brought it back down, amusing himself with how ‘Cecil’ tensed up each time Perry came close to drinking the ‘Pina Colada’.
Finally ‘Cecil’ sighed and glanced up at Perry. “When did you figure it out?”
Perry wordlessly pointed at the massive red and white sign near the back of the pool.
Do not Accept
Food/Drinks from
Mad Mike
“What happens if I drink this?” Perry asked.
“Nothing bad,” Mad Mike said with a shrug “We just switch bodies until someone figures it out and sends me back to prison.”
“Pass,” Perry said, setting the drink aside.
“Eh,” Mad Mike shrugged then immediately oriented on another person.
“Hey kid, first time in The Workshop?” Mad Mike said, his voice growing faint as he approached another of the recently Triggered newbies.
“Somehow Mad Mike’s power doesn’t set off the puppies,” Andy the Giant said, his elbows resting on the edge of the pool. He was nearly eye to eye with Perry despite standing in the pool.
“What are they, anyway?” Perry asked, glancing down at Chuck, who was tugging on Perry’s pantleg while growling.
“I don’t ask how the sausage gets made.” Andy the Giant said with a shrug.
Comments
Aaron King
To be fair his XP is awarded by pruning an individuals potential futures. So while Neuron was powerful he was also spiralling pretty hard and I don't think he had much more left in the tank.
Richard Pearson
Pity, he didn't level up after freeing himself from Neuron. It was nice to see something of the super prison, though.
Josiah Elliott
I found the little girl scale of rescuability in your stitched world series from Ron “People’s rescuability is a result of a diminishing perceived societal value based on age, with a gender modifier. Before any other considerations, young girls are up here, and old men are down here.” He pointed at the top of the curve, then the bottom. “Once you add in extra factors like commercial value and social status, you can compensate for advanced age and gender disadvantage. Your singular expertise combining Myst with tech dramatically inflates your social value and makes you about as rescuable as one point one five average little girls.” “The fuck are you getting those numbers from?” Eddie demanded, glaring at the ginger necromancer. “Get to work!” Jeb said, using his new Myst technique to make the sound rattle their brains."
