"You're sure of this?" Madigan asked, leaning back in her chair as the redhead in front of her practically vibrated with pleasure at pulling out
another secret.
"Yep! Those toasters don't come close to being able to keep me out, even if they've got chips for brains," she noted, preening. "And the
idiot said as much in front of her without erasing the memory file. It was child's play."
Which is probably why you actually succeeded in finding the information, Madigan thought to herself. Nena was a savant
in many ways. If the information existed in the brain she was scanning, she could find it without so much as a twitch unless one had active psionic defense
measures. They'd even tested her on computer mainframes, though that had been less successful. The "spark" which defined machine sentience had to
be present in order for her to have a frame of reference from which to dig into another "mind" with the ease that she did. Non-sentient machines
frustrated her, and Nena was not one to handle frustration well, usually giving up out of pique rather than pressing further forward.
All of which led to the information that Nena had taken from her surveillance of the unit "MiMi Blade". Madigan snorted at the codename. Their
creator clearly had no concept of the symbolism inherent in the Scimitar project's naming system, but then, he apparently had little idea of who he was
attempting to deal with. She could ruin his chances with Crey now. Have him broken by Crey's reprogrammers and made into an obedient little drone....but
that would be too simple.
Even before she'd been uploaded into the GENOM mainframe that had caused her inadvertant transfer to this dimension, Madigan had been a corporate shark.
And she'd risen to the top position available in GENOM on her wits and ability to play the corporate game with a style and subtlety that outwitted the
nastiest and most diabolically clever executives that humankind could dream of. Only Brian J. Mason had ever been better, and that had worked out nicely,
hadn't it? Crey, by comparison, was small potatoes, but she had to play the game for now, and she knew it better than anyone else....and one never let
their skills fall out of practice.
"Very good Nena. You're dismissed for now. Go run along and play with your pet," she noted with a smirk, as Nena rolled her eyes at the
description of her loyal "bodyguard" in the Infamous. She'd hardly needed a bodyguard, but Nena's childlike enthusiasm for playing with her
powers seemed to settle on her fairly often. Madigan wondered if the formerly human cyborg retained any semblance of independent thought at this point....
"Galatea," she said, the armored figure flickering into view at her shoulder. "You're going to deliver a message...."
***
The office that Dib had been given was small, but frankly, he hadn't expected much. Crey demanded results before it gave of the priveleges it was capable
of, and Hopkins' challenge to bring in one of the more notable rogue "Sabres" had yet to be met, so he could hardly demand better treatment at
the moment without possibly intruding on his welcome....
The small disc sitting on his desk, however, was new. Given his own tendencies, that meant that somehow he hadn't been informed of its delivery...which
meant someone had bypassed his security entirely. He made a quick note to readjust the parameters as he put the disc in....to be confronted with a striking
woman whose lavender hair wasn't hardly as eye-catching as her eyes which were very, very sharp and very, very unamused. In fact, her face looked like one
that smiles were fairly alien to....at least, pleasant ones.
"Mr. Membrane...." she began with a smile that confirmed his suspicions about her facial structure. "It's come to my attention that you are
the new project lead of something called Project: Blade. As the effective field commander of Project Scimitar, I am, of course, required to coordinate with
you. In that sense, I believe a clarification of our roles is required..." she smiled again, before her expression turned into something like a cat
watching a mouse that didn't know it was already trapped. "Simply put, you are competition. Your entire position hinges on being better than what I
and my subordinates are capable of. Everything you gain will be lost from Project Scimitar, and I am not one to roll over and accept the ascendance of an
incompetent. You're new to corporate politics, so let me be blunt so you don't misunderstand. Regardless of our mutual employers, you have made me your
enemy by choosing to attempt to replace me. And you've already made some very grievous mistakes. Such as leaving the information that you are deceiving
Crey about the number of Blade units you've constructed. And considering from the start that you will eventually betray Crey. Both of these are offenses
suitable to certain.....re-education procedures. And I indeed have duplicates of the evidence for such accusations. But I feel no need to bring it forward just
yet." The predator's smile was more befitting a shark than a human being. "I will tolerate your existence for now. It gives my Scimitars
something to keep them from getting lazy and slipping from the top of their game. But if you ever seriously attempt to threaten me or my project, I will ruin
you, Mr. Membrane, and sow your grave with salt in the process. Just so you're aware of the fact the safety net below your tight rope has been removed.
Also, please don't get any ideas. My headquarters is far, far more secure than the labs in Paragon. Recluse is much less concerned with the concept of Crey
possessing a "private army" in his domain than Paragon's City Hall. And I react...poorly....to physical assaults on my person or the persons of
my employees. Good day, Mr. Membrane."
Dib's expression had hardened as he watched the recording, as he certainly recognized the commander of the Scimitar unit(and a Scimitar herself) Katherine
Madigan. However, before he could summarize his thoughts on the recording's implications and the massive security breach it implied, he felt a pair of pin
pricks on his back....as a dark armored figure faded into view. "Don't cause any alarms. This isn't an assassination," Shadow Scimitar noted
quietly. "Simply a....gentlewoman's notice of who you're up against. Good day, Mr. Membrane," she said just as softly, before backing up and
fading into invisibility again. The door opened, then shut on its own accord as Dib watched, as the bloody right hand of the woman who'd just declared
herself his enemy made her way out of his facility as undetected as MiMi had been within the Crey labs in Paragon.
In hindsight, that was probably the point.
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
another secret.
"Yep! Those toasters don't come close to being able to keep me out, even if they've got chips for brains," she noted, preening. "And the
idiot said as much in front of her without erasing the memory file. It was child's play."
Which is probably why you actually succeeded in finding the information, Madigan thought to herself. Nena was a savant
in many ways. If the information existed in the brain she was scanning, she could find it without so much as a twitch unless one had active psionic defense
measures. They'd even tested her on computer mainframes, though that had been less successful. The "spark" which defined machine sentience had to
be present in order for her to have a frame of reference from which to dig into another "mind" with the ease that she did. Non-sentient machines
frustrated her, and Nena was not one to handle frustration well, usually giving up out of pique rather than pressing further forward.
All of which led to the information that Nena had taken from her surveillance of the unit "MiMi Blade". Madigan snorted at the codename. Their
creator clearly had no concept of the symbolism inherent in the Scimitar project's naming system, but then, he apparently had little idea of who he was
attempting to deal with. She could ruin his chances with Crey now. Have him broken by Crey's reprogrammers and made into an obedient little drone....but
that would be too simple.
Even before she'd been uploaded into the GENOM mainframe that had caused her inadvertant transfer to this dimension, Madigan had been a corporate shark.
And she'd risen to the top position available in GENOM on her wits and ability to play the corporate game with a style and subtlety that outwitted the
nastiest and most diabolically clever executives that humankind could dream of. Only Brian J. Mason had ever been better, and that had worked out nicely,
hadn't it? Crey, by comparison, was small potatoes, but she had to play the game for now, and she knew it better than anyone else....and one never let
their skills fall out of practice.
"Very good Nena. You're dismissed for now. Go run along and play with your pet," she noted with a smirk, as Nena rolled her eyes at the
description of her loyal "bodyguard" in the Infamous. She'd hardly needed a bodyguard, but Nena's childlike enthusiasm for playing with her
powers seemed to settle on her fairly often. Madigan wondered if the formerly human cyborg retained any semblance of independent thought at this point....
"Galatea," she said, the armored figure flickering into view at her shoulder. "You're going to deliver a message...."
***
The office that Dib had been given was small, but frankly, he hadn't expected much. Crey demanded results before it gave of the priveleges it was capable
of, and Hopkins' challenge to bring in one of the more notable rogue "Sabres" had yet to be met, so he could hardly demand better treatment at
the moment without possibly intruding on his welcome....
The small disc sitting on his desk, however, was new. Given his own tendencies, that meant that somehow he hadn't been informed of its delivery...which
meant someone had bypassed his security entirely. He made a quick note to readjust the parameters as he put the disc in....to be confronted with a striking
woman whose lavender hair wasn't hardly as eye-catching as her eyes which were very, very sharp and very, very unamused. In fact, her face looked like one
that smiles were fairly alien to....at least, pleasant ones.
"Mr. Membrane...." she began with a smile that confirmed his suspicions about her facial structure. "It's come to my attention that you are
the new project lead of something called Project: Blade. As the effective field commander of Project Scimitar, I am, of course, required to coordinate with
you. In that sense, I believe a clarification of our roles is required..." she smiled again, before her expression turned into something like a cat
watching a mouse that didn't know it was already trapped. "Simply put, you are competition. Your entire position hinges on being better than what I
and my subordinates are capable of. Everything you gain will be lost from Project Scimitar, and I am not one to roll over and accept the ascendance of an
incompetent. You're new to corporate politics, so let me be blunt so you don't misunderstand. Regardless of our mutual employers, you have made me your
enemy by choosing to attempt to replace me. And you've already made some very grievous mistakes. Such as leaving the information that you are deceiving
Crey about the number of Blade units you've constructed. And considering from the start that you will eventually betray Crey. Both of these are offenses
suitable to certain.....re-education procedures. And I indeed have duplicates of the evidence for such accusations. But I feel no need to bring it forward just
yet." The predator's smile was more befitting a shark than a human being. "I will tolerate your existence for now. It gives my Scimitars
something to keep them from getting lazy and slipping from the top of their game. But if you ever seriously attempt to threaten me or my project, I will ruin
you, Mr. Membrane, and sow your grave with salt in the process. Just so you're aware of the fact the safety net below your tight rope has been removed.
Also, please don't get any ideas. My headquarters is far, far more secure than the labs in Paragon. Recluse is much less concerned with the concept of Crey
possessing a "private army" in his domain than Paragon's City Hall. And I react...poorly....to physical assaults on my person or the persons of
my employees. Good day, Mr. Membrane."
Dib's expression had hardened as he watched the recording, as he certainly recognized the commander of the Scimitar unit(and a Scimitar herself) Katherine
Madigan. However, before he could summarize his thoughts on the recording's implications and the massive security breach it implied, he felt a pair of pin
pricks on his back....as a dark armored figure faded into view. "Don't cause any alarms. This isn't an assassination," Shadow Scimitar noted
quietly. "Simply a....gentlewoman's notice of who you're up against. Good day, Mr. Membrane," she said just as softly, before backing up and
fading into invisibility again. The door opened, then shut on its own accord as Dib watched, as the bloody right hand of the woman who'd just declared
herself his enemy made her way out of his facility as undetected as MiMi had been within the Crey labs in Paragon.
In hindsight, that was probably the point.
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."