The weekly news programs weren't as constrained as GENOM's old puppet broadcasters had been, but there was an undeniable edge of cover story as the
presenter came on the air.
"In other news, Doctor Paul Summerfield of Crey Biotech has recently been cleared of all charges reporting his possession of various contraband and
prohibited items due to a lack of evidence. While official court depositions are still sealed until their release to the public on Tuesday, official statements
have noted the "irregularities" involved in the PPD's involvement in the matter may have caused a more in-depth investigation into the
possibility that Doctor Summerfield was in fact the victim of an elabroate framing attempt. The Countess Crey, upon receipt of the verdict, was quoted as
saying that she was "relieved that the spirit of the law and not just the letter have been upheld in this trial, preventing the unjust incarceration of
one of Crey's model employees". Notable figures within the Freedom Phalanx failed to comment on the outcome of the trial, though Phalanx member
Manticore's long standing antipathy towards the corporation for its lax security allowing a large number of rogue operations from its own employees is a
matter of public record. However, the Shining Light, prominent member of the Paragon Protectors and widely acclaimed superheroine has gone on record as having
felt the court carried out its duties in the only way they could, given the irregularities in the procedural handling of the investigation, though she offered
no comment on her opinions on Doctor Summerfield's prospective guilt or innocence.
Up next after the break, scientists are still concerned whether recent investigations that Nemesis possessed, at one time, a weather control machine may imply
a malevolent hand in climate patterns previously thought to be the result of global warming..."
***
Paul Summerfield, for all that the large black eye he currently sported marred his otherwise perfect looks, seemed remarkably well composed for a potential
dead man. At least, he imagined that such thoughts were running through the minds of his guards. After being so publically humiliated, he had little to look
forward to other than the standard Crey "retirement package", but he was canny to Crey office politics. Only such an acumen in reading the currents
would've allowed him to flaunt both the law and Crey's private enforcement so openly for so long, after all.
And he saw far too many signs that he was still useful to assume his career and life were to end in a single simultaneous convergence in the near future.
If he had any doubts about this, the arrival of not just Hopkins, the Countess's personal enforcer, but the Countess herself certainly banished them. The
Countess Crey was above such petty displays of her displeasure in person. Hopkins was capable of such demonstrations himself, so this meant that presumably the
Countess wished to speak to him personally. He'd suspected it when Crey's top legal wranglers had tied the trial up in so much red tape and
smokescreens that Summerfield throwing himself on the court's floor and expressing his deep guilt and confession for everything he was accused of and more
probably wouldn't have got him convicted. So it was with supreme confidence that he greeted his employer, lord, and master.
"You have a flair for doing nothing by halves, it seems," the Countess noted, once the forms and proper demonstrations of obeisance were observed.
"Neither your research nor your lifestyle nor even your own fall from grace."
Summerfield chuckled, nodding at the hit. "When one has the resources of Crey at his fingertips, it would take a truly superhuman level of restraint to
not take advantage of them, unless one were crippled by cowardice of being caught. And I trust my usual security precautions helped the legal department
suitably dispose of any unwanted evidence?"
"Indeed, though they also came across some irregularities. Mainly suggesting you had a previously undisclosed tenant," the Countess noted. Her voice
suggested suspicion that Summerfield had done far more than the public and private records of Crey recorded.
"A girlfriend, but apparently her friends thought I was a poor influence and staged an intervention to prevent her from seeing me. Unfortunate, but there
are always more fish in the ocean," he said smoothly. He focused on the inherent truth of that statement, concentrated on it with laser like intensity.
Few among the Crey hierarchy had as much reason as Summerfield to suspect the rumors about the Countess being vaguely telepathic or empathic were, in fact,
true. He admitted to himself that the rumors could possibly be overblown attributions to the woman across from him's incredible ability to read people, but
he doubted it. He'd seen her correctly discern a person was lying when the subject had completely fooled Crey's best electronic lie detectors.
Summerfield, for his part, had decided that in an absence of certain guilt, he would tell sufficient amounts of the truth so as to not be lying to her. After
all, paranoia's only surprises were pleasant ones.
"...very well. Nevertheless, we cannot afford to employ you in such an open position as before, at least until the media blitz dies down," she said,
leaning back into her chair with practiced ease. "Given your remarkable expertise and the fact that you seem to have not been particularly traumatized by
your encounter with our opposition, we have decided that your talents will be best utilized overseeing Project Locke."
Summerfield permitted himself a visible reaction of surprise that he certainly felt. Project Locke was Crey's...the Countess's..most private black
books project. Even within Crey, he'd only discerned its existence through a few impossible to conceal financial transactions. Yet he was being entrusted
with it... "I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with the work being done there, Countess. I'm unsure if I'll be able to adequately perform
immediately."
"There's no hurry," the Countess assured him casually. "You'll have plenty of time to acclimate yourself. The technicians have been
operating Locke in its current format for some time....but your knowledge of your late mentor's memory transference program will, of course, be able to
push it into a new level of productivity, I imagine." The Countess smiled, but the attractive gesture lost something in the transition as Summerfield
noted he'd never actually made mention of his knowledge of that program...or that he'd been keeping it in reserve as a bargaining chip if he'd ever
been disgraced. For the Countess to know...
"...of course, Countess."
The Countess gave him another predatory smile as she stood up, Hopkins an implacable mountain behind her. "I trust you'll give this your best efforts,
Doctor."
***
"How's she doing?" Ifrit asked, stepping in behind where Nene'd stepped out of her friend's hospital room for the moment.
"Okay. A little shaken up, but she took the news better than Priss or I did. Maybe because she'd had firsthand evidence," Nene said with what
attempted to be a weak laugh and came out a croak instead. "...I shouldn't be surprised this happened, y'know. GENOM wouldn't have even
bothered giving him a trial for the public consumption. He just would've vanished and come back again later. But...after what he did to her...I thought
this world was better than that," she noted softly, almost to herself. "Not the usual dirtbags. They can exist anywhere...but he got off scot clean.
Without so much as a reprimand. All because of legal razzle dazzle. I thought being a hero here meant a chance to do something...to change things for the
better while we looked for everyone...but is it just the same as back home?" she asked, looking up at Ifrit. The fae resisted the urge to look away from
the young woman with a very, very tired expression in her eyes. She'd seen far more than Ifrit had in her short life, even taking into account the memories
the fae'd inherited from Rob. But at least, there was something Ifrit could say as she put her arms around the tired girl.
"....no, no it's not. Things do change. The bad guys don't get away like this all the time. You can help people and have it stick. Today was the
exception, not the rule. Trust me."
Nene stood fairly stiffly in the embrace for a moment, emotionally hovering on the edge before she let herself relax. She honestly didn't know the young
woman that well, but Ifrit'd shown a degree of caring that was genuine enough for Nene right now. Sighing, she slumped into the hug, glancing at the door
to the hospital room as she did, and hoping.
***
"So what now?"
Sylia glanced over from the view out of the balcony of her recently purchased Steel Canyon flat. Priss was standing behind her, waiting for an answer, and
Sylia knew that the question had any of a number of meanings, all of which concerned the singer equally.
"Linna is recovering...we will do our best to support her through the process. I doubt that Doctor Summerfield will come after us again, admittedly. If
Crey is as image conscious as they seem, such an immediate reprisal would only engender further problems they'd have to clean up."
Priss nodded, but retained her position, as if expecting further exposition. Sylia remained silent, waiting, before Priss made a grunt of annoyance and spoke
again. "And what about here? What about home?"
"Well, I suppose that is the question. Certainly, we lack the resources to return at the moment."
"So we give up on it?" she asked bluntly.
"Not exactly, Priss. I noted that we lack the resources at the moment. Perhaps, in the future, that will change. We will certainly have to investigate it.
But in the meantime, we really can't do anything but wait for a break to present itself. As to what to do in the meantime...well, we could certainly fade
into the general populace to evade Crey until some future moment where we can return home."
"Bullshit," Priss chuckled. "Yeah, just live a quiet life and run from crazy super-nazis, drugged up mutants, and who knows what the fuck else
like every other schmuck? You're too much of a white knight to go along with that."
"Well, I suggested it was an option," Sylia noted, a twinkle in her eye recognizing the verbal jab. "I didn't say it was a particularly
likely one."
"So we go into the hero biz full time?"
"Well, I hardly intend to spend all my waking hours as a justice-obsessed vigilante, but I imagine it'd make a useful hobby," Sylia noted,
completely straight faced, getting an explosive snort of amusement from Priss. "It'll be more enjoyable, for certain."
"Why's that?" Priss asked, curiousity overpowering restraint given the oddly open mood Sylia seemed to be in at the moment.
"Let me ask you this, Priss. What would've happened, back home, if we'd taken down GENOM?"
"No more boomers?" Priss guessed, sounding confused.
Sylia nodded. "No more boomers, presumably. Also GENOM Electric would go out of business, shutting down power to 3/4ths of the planet. The few GENOM
efforts to reverse the ecological damage to the planet would stop, allowing the planet to slide further into an ecological collapse. The ADP and the normal
police would lose a majority of their financing, crippling their ability to respond to criminal activity and causing mass chaos as the criminal element found
itself even less oppressed than before. In short, defeating and destroying GENOM would've destroyed the world. And that's if four women who are far
from immortal were able to significantly damage a corporation who holds control over 90% of the planet at all," she finished, almost as an afterthought.
Priss's expression suggested that she hadn't considered such a thing at all in the time they'd been operating.
"Fuck. Why'd we do it then, Sylia? If it was all pointless?"
"Because it wasn't. Not there. Someone had to stand against GENOM's worst, even if all they could do was to shield others from the immediate
threat," she said. "And...I had other reasons to oppose GENOM. Less idealistic ones."
Priss nodded. "So what's that got to do with anything here?"
"Here, Priss, while we may take losses....the loaded trials and public goodwill the public shower Crey with, for example....we are the majority. We are
not four women against the world. We're part of something...bigger. And even from a less grandiose viewpoint, there's the fact that we are not alone
anymore. If you break your arm in a fight, you don't need to go out the next day because no one else can do what you can, for one," she noted, and
Priss winced at the memory. "Simply put, this world has something ours always seemed to lack. It has hope. That alone makes any mission easier to
bear....just like you girls do," she said softly.
Priss nodded, once again looking at Sylia as if wondering if she'd pinch herself and wake up from this odd dream where Sylia talked like a normal person.
Sylia chuckled, resting a hand on Priss's shoulder as she stepped in from the balcony. "Think of it as a vacation, I suppose. A chance to try things
that our old lives would've made impossible," she said, catching the odd look that Priss gave her at that last statement and settling on an enigmatic
smile. No need to give the entire game away just yet. Besides, she had that adorable look on her face where she wasn't sure if she should be irritated or
confused or some of both. And frankly, that alone was priceless enough.
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
presenter came on the air.
"In other news, Doctor Paul Summerfield of Crey Biotech has recently been cleared of all charges reporting his possession of various contraband and
prohibited items due to a lack of evidence. While official court depositions are still sealed until their release to the public on Tuesday, official statements
have noted the "irregularities" involved in the PPD's involvement in the matter may have caused a more in-depth investigation into the
possibility that Doctor Summerfield was in fact the victim of an elabroate framing attempt. The Countess Crey, upon receipt of the verdict, was quoted as
saying that she was "relieved that the spirit of the law and not just the letter have been upheld in this trial, preventing the unjust incarceration of
one of Crey's model employees". Notable figures within the Freedom Phalanx failed to comment on the outcome of the trial, though Phalanx member
Manticore's long standing antipathy towards the corporation for its lax security allowing a large number of rogue operations from its own employees is a
matter of public record. However, the Shining Light, prominent member of the Paragon Protectors and widely acclaimed superheroine has gone on record as having
felt the court carried out its duties in the only way they could, given the irregularities in the procedural handling of the investigation, though she offered
no comment on her opinions on Doctor Summerfield's prospective guilt or innocence.
Up next after the break, scientists are still concerned whether recent investigations that Nemesis possessed, at one time, a weather control machine may imply
a malevolent hand in climate patterns previously thought to be the result of global warming..."
***
Paul Summerfield, for all that the large black eye he currently sported marred his otherwise perfect looks, seemed remarkably well composed for a potential
dead man. At least, he imagined that such thoughts were running through the minds of his guards. After being so publically humiliated, he had little to look
forward to other than the standard Crey "retirement package", but he was canny to Crey office politics. Only such an acumen in reading the currents
would've allowed him to flaunt both the law and Crey's private enforcement so openly for so long, after all.
And he saw far too many signs that he was still useful to assume his career and life were to end in a single simultaneous convergence in the near future.
If he had any doubts about this, the arrival of not just Hopkins, the Countess's personal enforcer, but the Countess herself certainly banished them. The
Countess Crey was above such petty displays of her displeasure in person. Hopkins was capable of such demonstrations himself, so this meant that presumably the
Countess wished to speak to him personally. He'd suspected it when Crey's top legal wranglers had tied the trial up in so much red tape and
smokescreens that Summerfield throwing himself on the court's floor and expressing his deep guilt and confession for everything he was accused of and more
probably wouldn't have got him convicted. So it was with supreme confidence that he greeted his employer, lord, and master.
"You have a flair for doing nothing by halves, it seems," the Countess noted, once the forms and proper demonstrations of obeisance were observed.
"Neither your research nor your lifestyle nor even your own fall from grace."
Summerfield chuckled, nodding at the hit. "When one has the resources of Crey at his fingertips, it would take a truly superhuman level of restraint to
not take advantage of them, unless one were crippled by cowardice of being caught. And I trust my usual security precautions helped the legal department
suitably dispose of any unwanted evidence?"
"Indeed, though they also came across some irregularities. Mainly suggesting you had a previously undisclosed tenant," the Countess noted. Her voice
suggested suspicion that Summerfield had done far more than the public and private records of Crey recorded.
"A girlfriend, but apparently her friends thought I was a poor influence and staged an intervention to prevent her from seeing me. Unfortunate, but there
are always more fish in the ocean," he said smoothly. He focused on the inherent truth of that statement, concentrated on it with laser like intensity.
Few among the Crey hierarchy had as much reason as Summerfield to suspect the rumors about the Countess being vaguely telepathic or empathic were, in fact,
true. He admitted to himself that the rumors could possibly be overblown attributions to the woman across from him's incredible ability to read people, but
he doubted it. He'd seen her correctly discern a person was lying when the subject had completely fooled Crey's best electronic lie detectors.
Summerfield, for his part, had decided that in an absence of certain guilt, he would tell sufficient amounts of the truth so as to not be lying to her. After
all, paranoia's only surprises were pleasant ones.
"...very well. Nevertheless, we cannot afford to employ you in such an open position as before, at least until the media blitz dies down," she said,
leaning back into her chair with practiced ease. "Given your remarkable expertise and the fact that you seem to have not been particularly traumatized by
your encounter with our opposition, we have decided that your talents will be best utilized overseeing Project Locke."
Summerfield permitted himself a visible reaction of surprise that he certainly felt. Project Locke was Crey's...the Countess's..most private black
books project. Even within Crey, he'd only discerned its existence through a few impossible to conceal financial transactions. Yet he was being entrusted
with it... "I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with the work being done there, Countess. I'm unsure if I'll be able to adequately perform
immediately."
"There's no hurry," the Countess assured him casually. "You'll have plenty of time to acclimate yourself. The technicians have been
operating Locke in its current format for some time....but your knowledge of your late mentor's memory transference program will, of course, be able to
push it into a new level of productivity, I imagine." The Countess smiled, but the attractive gesture lost something in the transition as Summerfield
noted he'd never actually made mention of his knowledge of that program...or that he'd been keeping it in reserve as a bargaining chip if he'd ever
been disgraced. For the Countess to know...
"...of course, Countess."
The Countess gave him another predatory smile as she stood up, Hopkins an implacable mountain behind her. "I trust you'll give this your best efforts,
Doctor."
***
"How's she doing?" Ifrit asked, stepping in behind where Nene'd stepped out of her friend's hospital room for the moment.
"Okay. A little shaken up, but she took the news better than Priss or I did. Maybe because she'd had firsthand evidence," Nene said with what
attempted to be a weak laugh and came out a croak instead. "...I shouldn't be surprised this happened, y'know. GENOM wouldn't have even
bothered giving him a trial for the public consumption. He just would've vanished and come back again later. But...after what he did to her...I thought
this world was better than that," she noted softly, almost to herself. "Not the usual dirtbags. They can exist anywhere...but he got off scot clean.
Without so much as a reprimand. All because of legal razzle dazzle. I thought being a hero here meant a chance to do something...to change things for the
better while we looked for everyone...but is it just the same as back home?" she asked, looking up at Ifrit. The fae resisted the urge to look away from
the young woman with a very, very tired expression in her eyes. She'd seen far more than Ifrit had in her short life, even taking into account the memories
the fae'd inherited from Rob. But at least, there was something Ifrit could say as she put her arms around the tired girl.
"....no, no it's not. Things do change. The bad guys don't get away like this all the time. You can help people and have it stick. Today was the
exception, not the rule. Trust me."
Nene stood fairly stiffly in the embrace for a moment, emotionally hovering on the edge before she let herself relax. She honestly didn't know the young
woman that well, but Ifrit'd shown a degree of caring that was genuine enough for Nene right now. Sighing, she slumped into the hug, glancing at the door
to the hospital room as she did, and hoping.
***
"So what now?"
Sylia glanced over from the view out of the balcony of her recently purchased Steel Canyon flat. Priss was standing behind her, waiting for an answer, and
Sylia knew that the question had any of a number of meanings, all of which concerned the singer equally.
"Linna is recovering...we will do our best to support her through the process. I doubt that Doctor Summerfield will come after us again, admittedly. If
Crey is as image conscious as they seem, such an immediate reprisal would only engender further problems they'd have to clean up."
Priss nodded, but retained her position, as if expecting further exposition. Sylia remained silent, waiting, before Priss made a grunt of annoyance and spoke
again. "And what about here? What about home?"
"Well, I suppose that is the question. Certainly, we lack the resources to return at the moment."
"So we give up on it?" she asked bluntly.
"Not exactly, Priss. I noted that we lack the resources at the moment. Perhaps, in the future, that will change. We will certainly have to investigate it.
But in the meantime, we really can't do anything but wait for a break to present itself. As to what to do in the meantime...well, we could certainly fade
into the general populace to evade Crey until some future moment where we can return home."
"Bullshit," Priss chuckled. "Yeah, just live a quiet life and run from crazy super-nazis, drugged up mutants, and who knows what the fuck else
like every other schmuck? You're too much of a white knight to go along with that."
"Well, I suggested it was an option," Sylia noted, a twinkle in her eye recognizing the verbal jab. "I didn't say it was a particularly
likely one."
"So we go into the hero biz full time?"
"Well, I hardly intend to spend all my waking hours as a justice-obsessed vigilante, but I imagine it'd make a useful hobby," Sylia noted,
completely straight faced, getting an explosive snort of amusement from Priss. "It'll be more enjoyable, for certain."
"Why's that?" Priss asked, curiousity overpowering restraint given the oddly open mood Sylia seemed to be in at the moment.
"Let me ask you this, Priss. What would've happened, back home, if we'd taken down GENOM?"
"No more boomers?" Priss guessed, sounding confused.
Sylia nodded. "No more boomers, presumably. Also GENOM Electric would go out of business, shutting down power to 3/4ths of the planet. The few GENOM
efforts to reverse the ecological damage to the planet would stop, allowing the planet to slide further into an ecological collapse. The ADP and the normal
police would lose a majority of their financing, crippling their ability to respond to criminal activity and causing mass chaos as the criminal element found
itself even less oppressed than before. In short, defeating and destroying GENOM would've destroyed the world. And that's if four women who are far
from immortal were able to significantly damage a corporation who holds control over 90% of the planet at all," she finished, almost as an afterthought.
Priss's expression suggested that she hadn't considered such a thing at all in the time they'd been operating.
"Fuck. Why'd we do it then, Sylia? If it was all pointless?"
"Because it wasn't. Not there. Someone had to stand against GENOM's worst, even if all they could do was to shield others from the immediate
threat," she said. "And...I had other reasons to oppose GENOM. Less idealistic ones."
Priss nodded. "So what's that got to do with anything here?"
"Here, Priss, while we may take losses....the loaded trials and public goodwill the public shower Crey with, for example....we are the majority. We are
not four women against the world. We're part of something...bigger. And even from a less grandiose viewpoint, there's the fact that we are not alone
anymore. If you break your arm in a fight, you don't need to go out the next day because no one else can do what you can, for one," she noted, and
Priss winced at the memory. "Simply put, this world has something ours always seemed to lack. It has hope. That alone makes any mission easier to
bear....just like you girls do," she said softly.
Priss nodded, once again looking at Sylia as if wondering if she'd pinch herself and wake up from this odd dream where Sylia talked like a normal person.
Sylia chuckled, resting a hand on Priss's shoulder as she stepped in from the balcony. "Think of it as a vacation, I suppose. A chance to try things
that our old lives would've made impossible," she said, catching the odd look that Priss gave her at that last statement and settling on an enigmatic
smile. No need to give the entire game away just yet. Besides, she had that adorable look on her face where she wasn't sure if she should be irritated or
confused or some of both. And frankly, that alone was priceless enough.
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."