Riot Force/Sabres of Paragon: To Spite a Giant
Four Colors 1: Silver
Four Months Earlier
Sylia looked at the young woman in front of her, who'd taken her in when
she very well could've claimed to have existential problems of her own, being as new to the world as she was, and considered her decision. She was used to
secrets. Heaven knew how many she'd had before this…her current situation just added more. But something….an utter….lack of anyone to lean on for the last
few weeks….made her want to trust someone with the truth….the real truth.
"My first memories....real, true memories, not digital engrams created to
make me seem more human, are of a small grey room, really. Of being strapped down to a table as I processed...thought through the situation. I wasn't dead,
so chances were it wasn't GENOM that'd captured me. A few glances around the room when it was empty said that the others weren't there either.
Which left the problem of escaping as my main concern. I didn't know who they were or how I'd gotten there. All I knew was…I had to get
out."
***
"…baseline neural activity is increasing….I think she's waking up," one of the scientists said.
"What? Waking up? It's too soon! The programming shouldn't be
complete yet…" Another said, nervously glancing over at her.
Sylia looked at them blankly, playing dumb. Part of her registered the fact
that there weren't any drugs, any subliminal messages playing over headphones. But they'd mentioned programming nonetheless. She'd heard rumors of
telepaths. It wasn't a surprise that possibly these men were using one to brainwash her.
"…she doesn't seem hostile. Maybe most of it's taken hold?"
the first scientist said. "Keep the upload going. I'll check it out."
***
"The term "upload" was really the first clue I had," Sylia said. "I mean, I'm not much of a software person. The bugs that Mackie
had to work out of the original operating system for the suit were mostly the result of things I just didn't consider, but I didn't think that anything
telepathic would use such a term. But for the moment, I just had to figure out how to somehow get them to let me off that chair."
***
"Is there some way I may assist you?" Sylia asked, drawing a
surprised reaction from the researcher. He looked at her warily, stepping slightly closer.
"Do you know where you are?"
Sylia looked at him blankly. "No, actually, but as you appear to be in
charge of my recovery from whatever has happened, I'd like to be of any assistance I can."
The scientist looked rather surprised by that but recouped quickly. "Er…yes. Do you remember where you are?"
"No," Sylia answered honestly.
"Do you remember your name?"
"No," she replied, somewhat less honestly.
"Maybe you should ask her if she remembers the saga next," The other
researcher smirked, getting an annoyed look from his companion. He turned back to her.
"Basically, you're a prototype serving droid that we here at Crey
Industries are developing. You were sent out on a test run and had a bit of a breakdown, so they brought you back here to have you checked out and
repaired."
***
"As well rehearsed as that story was, I could tell he was lying. You learn to do that, when you've been around the block as long as me," Sylia
said. Her voice sounded vaguely distant. "It was the other half of it, the fact that he felt perfectly natural telling me I was a machine, that surprised
me. I couldn't let that on, but….I knew I was…had been…human. Was that just a lie? Was I some copy that merely mimiced humans like Sylvie? Another's
memories in a machine?"
Ifrit nodded slightly, knowing all too well what that kind of feeling must have been like, even if she didn't recognize the name.
"Still, if I was going to get answers…"
***
Sylia concentrated on looking at her body through the variety of telling
measures that would let her know if she was injured. She almost gasped as a small HUD came up in her vision, identifying no known errors….as well as
identifying an intrusive viral overwrite that had been attempting to change her internal code. Pushing existential thoughts aside, she looked at the researcher
in front of her. "My internal diagnostics show no damage to my body….if it's all right with you, could I at least get off this table? It's
horribly cramped."
Sylia had noticed that they apparently hadn't provided any clothing for her before beginning their work, and in her experience, most scientists were a
little…starved for female companionship. Especially ones that made geeky in-jokes such as the one from the other researcher. The two exchanged glances, then
looked at the door before the first one shrugged and nodded. "Just don't go running off," he joked as he undid the straps.
"Last thing on my mind," Sylia said, glancing around, which was when she spotted the finished armor on another table.
***
"That was really what honed my situation to a razor's edge. Before, I could assume they possibly didn't know who I was. But if they didn't,
why have a replica, albeit slightly altered, of my hardsuit nearby? And if I was there, what about the other girls? Suddenly, it became more
than just escaping. I had to find if they were here as well, and if so, rescue them. Those diagnostics had also told me that their "upload" was a
reprogramming attempt, so I could certainly work out why they wanted me now. Letting that happen to any of them was something I just could not
tolerate."
***
Sylia ignored the leering glances of the second researcher as she did a mental
lookaround of the room. Remarkably, she couldn't seem to find any cameras in the room, probably for security reasons. Which implied they felt they were
safe enough here that they didn't need constant surveillance. Their first mistake. "I do have one question," she said. The researcher looked
up.
"You said I was a prototype. Are there others like me?"
"A few. They're working on them elsewhere to prepare for the release date."
"Thank you. That's all I needed to know," she said as she
brought her leg up in a spinning kick to the temple to knock him unconscious. The second researcher sprang for an alert button, but Sylia leaped forward and
caught him. If the concept of a naked woman pinning him to the ground did anything for him, he didn't have much time to contemplate it before he was also
knocked out, Sylia quickly getting up and heading for the armor. Unfortunately, that was about the time she heard alarms blaring, regretfully noting that she
probably missed a microphone somewhere. Suiting up quickly, she turned to the door as an armored figure in blue and yellow strode in. Sylia walked toward him
casually. "This lab is under attack. I was unable to subdue the one that attacked them, but they were also unable to steal the armor."
The armored figure took a moment to glance at the fallen researchers…which was all Sylia needed. Triggering the wristblade on the suit, she drove it straight
through the reflective facebowl. The man crumpled to the ground as more armored troopers rounded the corner. Sylia took a quick count. Twelve of them. This
could be trouble.
***
"Have you ever gotten into a situation where you were very much aware that it was a life or death battle? You don't really consciously fight them so
much as you just…shut down. It's them or you, and mercy is an indulgence you can't really afford," she said.
Ifrit nodded as the older woman continued, sounding more accepting of this
than she had her realization that she was a machine. "I've killed before, of necessity. And this really wasn't much different. I was a failed
product for whatever they were trying to do. If they captured me, I wouldn't get out again. I'd be overwritten or whatever they were doing to me. If
they didn't kill me first. While I wasn't really sure if I cared if I died at the moment, the fact was that the others were waiting, somewhere, for me
to find and rescue them. I didn't have the luxury of dying. Which meant they didn't have the luxury of someone unwilling to kill them."
***
Sylia tabbed through the console, ignoring the broken and bleeding bodies on the ground and trying to shake the combat fugue state she'd slipped into so
she could concentrate. Nene was always better at this, but Sylia was hardly a slouch. A few minutes of reading later, she stood up, deciding not to press her
luck as she headed out the door. And found her way blocked by more men in armored suits, these looking more akin to walking tanks than the previously bright
colored troopers from before.
"Stand down and surrender, or we will destroy you," the leader said.
Sylia cocked her head to the side.
"….no."
***
"It really was a Priss sort of thing to do, taunting them like that, but I was still coming down off what I'd found," she said. Ifrit looked at
her, clearly uncomfortable with asking what that was, but she continued.
"The computer detailed the progress of the project thus far. We were
copies that'd been stolen from another dimension….probably my home one, by this…Crey Industries. The hardsuits hadn't been finished, so they did so
themselves. They'd wanted to copy us….make more….but apparently GENOM's workmanship was too advanced for them. So they'd decided to make us into
weapons instead. I didn't know where the others were, if they'd woken up like I had. If they were still alive…" she said, looking all too
vulnerable for a moment before her composure returned before Ifrit could reach out to comfort her. "But I knew I couldn't stay there….and that I
couldn't die. They were counting on me."
***
Sylia panted, looking at the path of bloody ruin she'd carved out of the
soldiers in her way. Finding the power room had been a stroke of luck, as disconnecting it should disable most of their means of tracking her. She'd also
stolen what she could from the researchers in the facility, providing her with a small nest egg to get herself started in a civilian identity. As well as a
travel case for her armor. They'd apparently planned for her to operate on her own, and that would prove useful.
***
"After that, I got a small apartment in King's Row. It was pretty much a stepping stone while I laid low. Some investments netted me a much larger
income to work with, which allowed me to relocate to my place in Steel Canyon. I registered as a hero shortly thereafter, anonymously. They didn't seem too
surprised, really."
"The FBSA has more than a couple cases like that," Ifrit said. "But I suppose what I'm really wondering is….why are you telling me
this?"
Sylia looked up at her, and Ifrit was struck by the steel determination she could see in her eyes. "I'm going to find them. The rest of my team. But…I
don't know if I can do it alone. This group….Riot Force….that you've put together. You do good. Like we used to. And I think….I can trust you. So
I'm asking for your help. Please. We'll all leave as soon as we're together, if you're afraid of antagonizing Crey, but
please….I need your help."
Ifrit looked at her, considering. Crey was a juggernaut of
industry and under the table dealings. Making an enemy of them so early….but she found that considering turning the woman down was just something she
couldn't do. "….Of course we'll help," she said, holding out her hand. Sylia took it, both reluctantly and gratefully. "We're
teammates. That's what teammates do."
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
Four Colors 1: Silver
Four Months Earlier
Sylia looked at the young woman in front of her, who'd taken her in when
she very well could've claimed to have existential problems of her own, being as new to the world as she was, and considered her decision. She was used to
secrets. Heaven knew how many she'd had before this…her current situation just added more. But something….an utter….lack of anyone to lean on for the last
few weeks….made her want to trust someone with the truth….the real truth.
"My first memories....real, true memories, not digital engrams created to
make me seem more human, are of a small grey room, really. Of being strapped down to a table as I processed...thought through the situation. I wasn't dead,
so chances were it wasn't GENOM that'd captured me. A few glances around the room when it was empty said that the others weren't there either.
Which left the problem of escaping as my main concern. I didn't know who they were or how I'd gotten there. All I knew was…I had to get
out."
***
"…baseline neural activity is increasing….I think she's waking up," one of the scientists said.
"What? Waking up? It's too soon! The programming shouldn't be
complete yet…" Another said, nervously glancing over at her.
Sylia looked at them blankly, playing dumb. Part of her registered the fact
that there weren't any drugs, any subliminal messages playing over headphones. But they'd mentioned programming nonetheless. She'd heard rumors of
telepaths. It wasn't a surprise that possibly these men were using one to brainwash her.
"…she doesn't seem hostile. Maybe most of it's taken hold?"
the first scientist said. "Keep the upload going. I'll check it out."
***
"The term "upload" was really the first clue I had," Sylia said. "I mean, I'm not much of a software person. The bugs that Mackie
had to work out of the original operating system for the suit were mostly the result of things I just didn't consider, but I didn't think that anything
telepathic would use such a term. But for the moment, I just had to figure out how to somehow get them to let me off that chair."
***
"Is there some way I may assist you?" Sylia asked, drawing a
surprised reaction from the researcher. He looked at her warily, stepping slightly closer.
"Do you know where you are?"
Sylia looked at him blankly. "No, actually, but as you appear to be in
charge of my recovery from whatever has happened, I'd like to be of any assistance I can."
The scientist looked rather surprised by that but recouped quickly. "Er…yes. Do you remember where you are?"
"No," Sylia answered honestly.
"Do you remember your name?"
"No," she replied, somewhat less honestly.
"Maybe you should ask her if she remembers the saga next," The other
researcher smirked, getting an annoyed look from his companion. He turned back to her.
"Basically, you're a prototype serving droid that we here at Crey
Industries are developing. You were sent out on a test run and had a bit of a breakdown, so they brought you back here to have you checked out and
repaired."
***
"As well rehearsed as that story was, I could tell he was lying. You learn to do that, when you've been around the block as long as me," Sylia
said. Her voice sounded vaguely distant. "It was the other half of it, the fact that he felt perfectly natural telling me I was a machine, that surprised
me. I couldn't let that on, but….I knew I was…had been…human. Was that just a lie? Was I some copy that merely mimiced humans like Sylvie? Another's
memories in a machine?"
Ifrit nodded slightly, knowing all too well what that kind of feeling must have been like, even if she didn't recognize the name.
"Still, if I was going to get answers…"
***
Sylia concentrated on looking at her body through the variety of telling
measures that would let her know if she was injured. She almost gasped as a small HUD came up in her vision, identifying no known errors….as well as
identifying an intrusive viral overwrite that had been attempting to change her internal code. Pushing existential thoughts aside, she looked at the researcher
in front of her. "My internal diagnostics show no damage to my body….if it's all right with you, could I at least get off this table? It's
horribly cramped."
Sylia had noticed that they apparently hadn't provided any clothing for her before beginning their work, and in her experience, most scientists were a
little…starved for female companionship. Especially ones that made geeky in-jokes such as the one from the other researcher. The two exchanged glances, then
looked at the door before the first one shrugged and nodded. "Just don't go running off," he joked as he undid the straps.
"Last thing on my mind," Sylia said, glancing around, which was when she spotted the finished armor on another table.
***
"That was really what honed my situation to a razor's edge. Before, I could assume they possibly didn't know who I was. But if they didn't,
why have a replica, albeit slightly altered, of my hardsuit nearby? And if I was there, what about the other girls? Suddenly, it became more
than just escaping. I had to find if they were here as well, and if so, rescue them. Those diagnostics had also told me that their "upload" was a
reprogramming attempt, so I could certainly work out why they wanted me now. Letting that happen to any of them was something I just could not
tolerate."
***
Sylia ignored the leering glances of the second researcher as she did a mental
lookaround of the room. Remarkably, she couldn't seem to find any cameras in the room, probably for security reasons. Which implied they felt they were
safe enough here that they didn't need constant surveillance. Their first mistake. "I do have one question," she said. The researcher looked
up.
"You said I was a prototype. Are there others like me?"
"A few. They're working on them elsewhere to prepare for the release date."
"Thank you. That's all I needed to know," she said as she
brought her leg up in a spinning kick to the temple to knock him unconscious. The second researcher sprang for an alert button, but Sylia leaped forward and
caught him. If the concept of a naked woman pinning him to the ground did anything for him, he didn't have much time to contemplate it before he was also
knocked out, Sylia quickly getting up and heading for the armor. Unfortunately, that was about the time she heard alarms blaring, regretfully noting that she
probably missed a microphone somewhere. Suiting up quickly, she turned to the door as an armored figure in blue and yellow strode in. Sylia walked toward him
casually. "This lab is under attack. I was unable to subdue the one that attacked them, but they were also unable to steal the armor."
The armored figure took a moment to glance at the fallen researchers…which was all Sylia needed. Triggering the wristblade on the suit, she drove it straight
through the reflective facebowl. The man crumpled to the ground as more armored troopers rounded the corner. Sylia took a quick count. Twelve of them. This
could be trouble.
***
"Have you ever gotten into a situation where you were very much aware that it was a life or death battle? You don't really consciously fight them so
much as you just…shut down. It's them or you, and mercy is an indulgence you can't really afford," she said.
Ifrit nodded as the older woman continued, sounding more accepting of this
than she had her realization that she was a machine. "I've killed before, of necessity. And this really wasn't much different. I was a failed
product for whatever they were trying to do. If they captured me, I wouldn't get out again. I'd be overwritten or whatever they were doing to me. If
they didn't kill me first. While I wasn't really sure if I cared if I died at the moment, the fact was that the others were waiting, somewhere, for me
to find and rescue them. I didn't have the luxury of dying. Which meant they didn't have the luxury of someone unwilling to kill them."
***
Sylia tabbed through the console, ignoring the broken and bleeding bodies on the ground and trying to shake the combat fugue state she'd slipped into so
she could concentrate. Nene was always better at this, but Sylia was hardly a slouch. A few minutes of reading later, she stood up, deciding not to press her
luck as she headed out the door. And found her way blocked by more men in armored suits, these looking more akin to walking tanks than the previously bright
colored troopers from before.
"Stand down and surrender, or we will destroy you," the leader said.
Sylia cocked her head to the side.
"….no."
***
"It really was a Priss sort of thing to do, taunting them like that, but I was still coming down off what I'd found," she said. Ifrit looked at
her, clearly uncomfortable with asking what that was, but she continued.
"The computer detailed the progress of the project thus far. We were
copies that'd been stolen from another dimension….probably my home one, by this…Crey Industries. The hardsuits hadn't been finished, so they did so
themselves. They'd wanted to copy us….make more….but apparently GENOM's workmanship was too advanced for them. So they'd decided to make us into
weapons instead. I didn't know where the others were, if they'd woken up like I had. If they were still alive…" she said, looking all too
vulnerable for a moment before her composure returned before Ifrit could reach out to comfort her. "But I knew I couldn't stay there….and that I
couldn't die. They were counting on me."
***
Sylia panted, looking at the path of bloody ruin she'd carved out of the
soldiers in her way. Finding the power room had been a stroke of luck, as disconnecting it should disable most of their means of tracking her. She'd also
stolen what she could from the researchers in the facility, providing her with a small nest egg to get herself started in a civilian identity. As well as a
travel case for her armor. They'd apparently planned for her to operate on her own, and that would prove useful.
***
"After that, I got a small apartment in King's Row. It was pretty much a stepping stone while I laid low. Some investments netted me a much larger
income to work with, which allowed me to relocate to my place in Steel Canyon. I registered as a hero shortly thereafter, anonymously. They didn't seem too
surprised, really."
"The FBSA has more than a couple cases like that," Ifrit said. "But I suppose what I'm really wondering is….why are you telling me
this?"
Sylia looked up at her, and Ifrit was struck by the steel determination she could see in her eyes. "I'm going to find them. The rest of my team. But…I
don't know if I can do it alone. This group….Riot Force….that you've put together. You do good. Like we used to. And I think….I can trust you. So
I'm asking for your help. Please. We'll all leave as soon as we're together, if you're afraid of antagonizing Crey, but
please….I need your help."
Ifrit looked at her, considering. Crey was a juggernaut of
industry and under the table dealings. Making an enemy of them so early….but she found that considering turning the woman down was just something she
couldn't do. "….Of course we'll help," she said, holding out her hand. Sylia took it, both reluctantly and gratefully. "We're
teammates. That's what teammates do."
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."