Danse Macabre interlude A

Warning: unpleasant ahead. Animal testing is exceedingly disturbing even relatively sanitized like this, but it's also a vital component of modern medicine. Interlude A: Soft Sell As he, Armsmaster, and the new cape waited for the inevitable filling out of electronic paperwork, Robin took the time to look around the waiting area of the Parahuman Response Teams 'Office Sixteen' building. It wasn't something he did often; weirdly enough he usually didn't have time for it in the few occasions he was here. There wasn't much to see-- large, mostly sterile room with a few seats, inoffensive floor to ceiling windows on the east wall, offices on the south wall by the entrance, and the bulk of the secure stuff past a checkpoint staffed by PRT. Robin Swoyer hadn't really been prepared for tonight. The staff at the desk, a fourteen year veteran PRT officer, confirmed Armsmaster's identity, then  pressed a button. There was a buzz, and the trans plast door next to the desk opened. Armsmaster gestured towards the open door. "Oberon, right this way. Please leave your weapons here with the quartermaster; non Protectorate and PRT personnel can't carry weapons beyond this point except during extraordinary circumstances. Your... kubrow may remain with you." The ever present, short delay in the response was as noticeable as it had been the first time. "Understood. Thank you." The new cape unslung the weapon across his back, setting it down on the ledge of the cage window, following it with a pair of side holsters with socketed objects Robin couldn't guess at the function of. The kubrow hadn't needed instruction, instead calmly following along behind Oberon without prompting. The entirety of Oberon's interactions from the beginning had perplexed Robin. Physically, Oberon's reflexes were impressive. Slower somewhat than Robin's, true, but not by much. His movements were inhumanly graceful, and the costume was so seamless it was difficult to tell where Oberon's costume ended and his body began. It was a sharp contrast to his very slow verbal reflexes, like he had to parse everything that was said to him carefully before formulating a response. Then there was the matter of the gun that Oberon had carefully not mentioned or drawn attention to until seeing it on the counter for the quartermaster to store. Oberon claimed he wasn't a Tinker; it was a blatantly obvious lie, unless he was working with one. Robin didn't call him on it, though-- everyone had the right to attempt to keep things close to the vest, just as the Protectorate had the duty to investigate past attempts at obfuscation for the sake of public safety. "Before the powers testing, may we conduct an interview with you?" Armsmaster asked, as the three of them walked down a hall. "Just to learn a little more about you if we're to work with you in the future," Robin added quickly, looking at Armsmaster. Honestly, the guy was an amazing Tinker but his people management skills were subpar at best. That minor delay, and Oberon answered, "If it will not take too long, then yes. No more than thirty minutes, I wish to return to patrolling some time tonight." "Unless you cut powers testing short, you probably won't be patrolling more tonight," Armsmaster commented. Robin winced a little. Armsmaster continued, "There are many aspects to your healing aura we will need to test, including just how quickly it works, how it affects things like disease and various toxins, upper limits of numbers which can be affected by it, and a long term study to determine if there are secondary effects such as cancer or telomerase erosion." As they reached the end of the hallway, Armsmaster tapped the back of his gauntlet over a key card reader, triggering the elevator. After the by-now-expected pause, there is just the slightest shift in Oberon's shoulders, before what Robin could only interpret as a resigned nod. "Very well. If you feel this to be necessary." The elevator door opened. Robin entered first, Oberon and Ulber following behind him. Armsmaster entered last, using his body to block line of sight to the keypad while punching in the sequence to take them to an unlisted basement level. The elevator barely felt like it was moving. Good equipment, not tinkertech, but well designed and maintained. There were a few seconds of silence before Armsmaster asked, "So what kind of program are you using to translate for you?" There was another brief pause, before Oberon looked over at Armsmaster sharply. "... Is that going to be a problem?" Oberon asked in reply. Robin noted that it wasn't an answer, but confirmed the question nonetheless. "We will necessarily need to know that you are not a fugitive from another country, of course." Armsmaster's voice was matter of fact, and Robin internally cursed as he realized that Armsmaster had picked the worst possible battlefield for Robin, even IF they were already flanking the unarmed cape and his animal, should Oberon feel threatened enough to try and fight his way out. True, Armsmaster was exactly at his best engagement range-- point blank with a confined opponent-- and true, the elevator was on its way down to opening up into one of the most secure places in the city short of aboard the Rig itself. That didn't make this any less an asshole move. Robin's costume visor didn't even let him properly glare at Armsmaster, not that any form of social disapproval would affect him even if it did. The man was somewhat impenetrable that way, and it was a testimony to SOMETHING in Armsmaster's psychological makeup that nobody really knew if Armsmaster didn't understand that he was pissing in everyone else's cereal, or else didn't give a shit. Oberon's delayed reaction was something of a relief; he remained calm, and even patted Ulber on the head. "I can promise you that no person in other nations even knows I exist, much less have a warrant out on me for criminality or any other reason." With that costume-- or body, if Oberon was to be believed-- poker face didn't really cover it. Still, Robin didn't get the impression that the new cape was lying. As they escorted Oberon and Ulber, Robin took out his phone, shooting Armsmaster a fast text. 'just what does testing involve' After a moment of thought, he added a question mark. Sure, it was obviously a question. Obvious to anyone except Armsmaster, that is. Best to not risk it. He hit send. About five seconds later, he received his reply. Probably anticipated the question half an hour ago, Robin thought irritably. 'Animal testing, followed by a study to determine whether the healing incurs long term effects, such as weakened tissues or bones, depressed immune response, or increased risk of cancer.' A second later, another text arrived. 'Some find such testing disturbing. If you don't think you can handle it, you may be excused from powers observation. Miss Militia is on duty tonight and may take your place.' I can't tell whether you're trying to be considerate while you're implying I'm a pussy, Robin thought, but if you can serve as an observer for the researchers' safety during the testing, I damn well can too. Asshole. --- Colin walked into the observation room, wearing his workshop outfit, his armor stored and awaiting maintenance later, when Colin had the time. One of the researchers was commenting into a recording mic. "... Group B is unaffected. No healing shown. Group A... A-1, broken right foreleg, no trace of injury. A-2, full dermal laceration from right shoulder to base of trail, some blood in the enclosure, but no trace of injury. A-3, multiple fracture and deep bruising in both hind legs, crushed pelvis, no trace of injury. A-4, deep penetrative wound to abdomen, some blood in the enclosure, but no trace of injury. A-5, broken jaw and teeth, fragments of tooth remain in the test enclosure, but subject shows fully formed teeth in their respective places, no sign of injury." Velocity looked like he was a little unsteady, making a choked sort of noise in the back of his throat. "How are you doing so far, Oberon?" another one of the staff researchers said over the intercom. "Can you do more?" "The mice are very small," replied Oberon. "Healing them takes nothing at all. I can do more yet." Colin's onboard computer measured the response time of Oberon's translator automatically. 0.92 seconds. Depending on the complexity of any set of sentences directed at him, the delay could be as high as just under two seconds, or as short as three quarters of one. The software he was using was efficient, and translated with relative fluidity in real time, suggesting a similarity in language families. Something with a common root to English. Perhaps Gaelic, Danish, or Afrikaans? "If you can, try to relax, we can get some larger animals in. We're not quite ready to bring in human testers just yet. Sit tight." "... Alright." And that was another thing; common metaphors and figures of speech noticeably shifted response time by up to a quarter of a second the first time they were used. Even if he hadn't already figured out that there was a translator involved, it would have been a glaring indicator. The fact that it adapted so quickly meant it was an excellent program, though, and the lexicon updating with such speed meant it had a heuristic component of staggering accuracy likely on the level of AI. It wasn't proof of it. It might well be only a narrow virtual intelligence, possibly making use of a previously unknown algorithm to parse language. Even so, it WAS a red flag. All assessments by Protectorate Thinkers indicated that a general strong AI was existentially dangerous; any Tinker believed or confirmed to be capable of creating it was instantly catapulted to being potentially an A rank threat. Colin could only think of two Tinkers he would trust with the ability to construct an AI, and one was himself, primarily because he would never be so wildly reckless as to actually try it. Just because you can do something is not an acceptable reason to do so. "What are you bringing in next?" Oberon asked suddenly. "The largest animals we have in the facility are dogs and chimpanzees," the researcher answered. "Subject Handling is preparing them for transport, which involves tranquilizing them, logging them out, and transferring them to portable carriers. Once they get here, we'll give them varying degrees of injury while they're unconscious." Oberon's nod was delayed, but did not seem overly concerned. "Please inform me when you are ready." Velocity sighed, rubbing his face. "Thankfully, it does seem he's cooperative. What's the over under on him?" Colin grunted. "A strange combination of powers. Brute, Shaker, possibly Tinker, although I suspect the Tinker is a hidden backer. Earlier I suspected either access to a Thinker or he is a Thinker; now I'm leaning in the direction of AI. Which would make his Tinker accomplice a high priority to recruit or apprehend, if they're capable of creating AI." "And that's bad, right?" Velocity replied. There was a note to his voice that Colin couldn't decipher. Plain stupidity, Colin decided, and gritted his teeth lightly. "It could be catastrophically bad. We'd need to bring them in immediately, especially if they've already created one." "So you're sure that's he's not a Thinker, then?" "The fact that he's a Shaker-healer combined with a Brute factor already sets him in the outlier category, in addition to the probable Changer state-- assuming it isn't actually a suit despite his claims," Colin said, folding his arms as he watched Oberon kneel serenely. It was a strange, almost patient gesture from the new cape; at odds with his impression of the cape as young, probably in his teens. "Powers that can heal others are almost universally standalone powers, such as Panacea, or else a secondary effect of a power that does something else primarily, such as Othala or Scapegoat." "Who?" Velocity asked, "One of the San Diego Wards." Colin didn't feel like elaborating; if Velocity hadn't been reading his updates on Protectorate business, that was on him. For a few minutes, there were no words between them. Colin took the time to jot down a few notes in his pocket notebook, for later exploration, regarding a possible new direction to take his power armor. A flexible organic weave consisting of long chain synthetic electro polymers, that could serve both as ablative layering and strength enhancement. It would require extensive training, as well as a redesign of the suit for negative feedback input, but it was a little bit more he could squeeze out of the suit, a little bit more he could do. Maybe the difference between a future success and a future failure. "... Looks uncomfortable," Velocity said after a moment. At Colin's look, he elaborated, "The kneeling." Colin looked back at Oberon, something about the pose twinged in his memory. "... That's a seiza," he mumbled. "Japanese?" But the structure of Japanese was completely different from English; in fact, it was almost as far from English as you could get without stepping into Amazon rainforest tribes. It didn't mesh with the concept of a real time translation software, unless it was even better than he'd suspected. "ABB?" Velocity asked. "Or possibly evading them," Colin replied, tersely. He was probably overthinking this. "Perhaps he's trying to avoid recruitment." Now Velocity was finally getting it. He snapped his fingers and exclaimed,  "Which would be why he was walking around so openly, declared he was a healer, and walked into our custody without a worry." Colin ignored the similarity in Velocity's tone to earlier, and nodded. "This will make the report a lot cleaner." Velocity went quiet for a moment. Then, "There's another possibility, though." "That is?" "He might be a Trump." Now it was Colin's turn to go quiet. Velocity continued, "Remember the report about the witness this morning about the attack on the Ruby Dreams casino?" "Ruby Dreams Private Club," Colin corrected. "Please," Velocity said with a snort. "Everybody knows it's a casino." "It's invite only, and nobody has gotten proof they're conducting illegal gambling there," Colin said. "Until the proof surfaces, with a valid warrant, they're a private club." "Whatever. The point is-" Colin interrupted Velocity before he could get going again. "You think that the mystery invisible vigilante from last night that defended the club was Oberon." It was an interesting thought-- and removed the need for a silent partner to be there, and made a Thinker power alongside his others much more feasible. And the witness had mentioned horns, but they could just as easily meant antlers like those Oberon wore. A Trump somehow made sense, in this context. If it was true, it could make Oberon even more valuable than 'just' being a mass healer. "You realize, if he's a Trump, if he can choose his powers, he's deliberately trying to manipulate us, choosing this power before coming in to see us," Velocity continued. "Which begs the question, what is he actually after?" "... There are a lot of assumptions implicit in this line of thought," Colin said. "We have no real evidence for anything beyond what we've seen so far." "There's no evidence against it, either, and it fits what we DO know," Velocity countered. Colin didn't answer. "Either way, it doesn't matter. We NEED this guy. More importantly, we need him to NOT be recruited by one of the gangs," Velocity continued. "Can you imagine how bad it would be if the Empire got ahold of him? It's hard enough fighting them day to day with just Othala in their camp." Unspoken was the observation that Colin hadn't missed-- that the mice were healed effectively instantaneously. One of them had even been stomped on by a researcher, only to be hale and whole by the time the researcher pulled his foot back up. Oberon was firmly confident in the efficacy of his regeneration aura on humans, and had demonstrated on the mice that it was selective. The ability to grant, even briefly, a group of completely unpowered normals an effective 4-5 Brute rating? Worse still, granting that rating to Krieg, or Stormtiger, or more probably, both at once? "Oberon, they're wheeling in the cages now," the lead researcher announced over the intercom. "Each of the animals has been sedated. You may begin when ready." Oberon got to his feet, and stomped once, a gesture that Colin was pretty sure was one borne of mixed theatricality and boredom. The injuries on the larger animals closed up as quickly as they had on the mice; one particularly nasty compound fracture on a chimpanzee straightened out, the limb visibly reducing in swelling as it returned to straight, bone receding into skin and almost snapping into alignment. Velocity had turned his back to the observation window, and was taking slow, deep breaths. He appeared to be sweating. "Velocity, are you alright?" Colin asked. If Velocity was coming down with something, he should have called in sick. "... M'fine. Gonna go in the other room, now." Velocity gulped hard, and left, fast. Colin looked at the empty doorway for a second, uncertain how to react. Finally, he decided not to. Instead, he went back to watching Oberon's power at work. It was simpler that way. And it left him alone with his thoughts as to how exactly they could ensure that Oberon joined the Protectorate.