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Stranger Than Fiction (Worm Tinker of Fiction SI) by Throwaway1971

Books » Private Rated: M, English, Romance, Words: 110k+, Favs: 105, Follows: 131, Published: Dec 24, 2023

5Chapter 11: Eleventh Page

Disclaimer: I own Jackshit

AN: Alright, so, this took a fair bit longer than I intended, but I finally got it finished, so thank the lord for that! Bit of a filler chapter, really, talking about the immediate aftermath of the Death of the Nine, which will also probably cover the next chapter as well, but it and the next chapter should give some interesting perspectives on things, along with the changing situation as the world reacts to there being not one, but many, Silencers.

Admittedly, I had originally planned to have them as a single chapter, but decided to split them up, since this was taking so long, generally due to stuff happening RL, so that you lot could get something new to read some time this century.

Still, hope you lot enjoy!

XXX

If there was one thing I'd learned from the aftermath of killing the Nine, it was that, regardless of which regional department you were interacting with, the PRT and Protectorate were all a bunch of condescending arse-weasels. A fact that made me glad that it was over, especially as I considered the entire situation from start to finish.

To start with, they'd left me waiting in their reception lobby for three fucking hours, after I'd handed them enough evidence to convince them that I hadn't been trying to scam them out of the Nine's reward. I'd watched as, within twenty minutes, they'd come to a verdict that I wasn't talking through a hole in my arse, and then had chosen to keep me waiting despite that! The actual wait itself wasn't an issue, despite knowing that it was a petty power play, made by a bunch of self-important shit-gibbons. What was an issue, was the fact that, throughout those three hours, they'd sent down some members of the local Protectorate team to, each, try and give me a recruitment pitch, to try and convince me to join the Protectorate.

Admittedly, it was pretty easy to ignore them, doing my best impression of a statue and remaining silent whenever they tried to open some form of conversation, but it was the principle of the entire thing. If they'd treated with me fairly, I'd have done so in turn, but given that they'd chosen to play petty games, I'd simply returned the favour. Though, the last one to try had probably taken my silence and lack of response a bit personally, since they'd started quoting the PRT's brand of tilted statistics to try and convince me to join, saying that various groups would try pressuring me to join them. Safety in numbers, and all that jazz.

Now, even with me being a Posthuman, my sense of self-restraint could only go so far.

Hence, why I thought it was a triumph that I'd restricted myself to simply saying two words in response to their rantings: Like you?

Their reaction had been amusing, but anything beyond that had been cut off by the arrival of a PRT official, who'd come to tell me the results of the authentication, that they'd 'just received.' It was bullshit, especially since I'd known they'd been monitoring the entire situation from a ready room two floors up the entire time. The only reason they'd chosen to step in at that point, was due to how I'd finally given a reaction to them, and it was not one that was indicative of a positive opinion. From there, the transaction had been swift, and I'd left immediately afterwards, the reward money having been transferred to a secure account that the Lawson sisters had setup prior to me heading out to kill the Nine.

Thankfully, they didn't try to stop me from leaving, having taken the only two words I'd spoken in the last three hours as an indicator that I was not in the mood to deal with more of their bullshit. It wasn't too far from the truth, in all honesty, but that was more a case of me not being willing to humour the PRT's delusions of competence.

Now, racing back to Brockton Bay on my bike, I couldn't help but wonder if the about how everything had played out. Yes, I'd killed the Nine, making me look like a priority recruiting target to the PRT and Protectorate, but something about the whole situation seemed a bit too... Practised, for lack of a better word. Considering what I'd seen of how the PRT and Protectorate had operated, it wouldn't have surprised me if that kind of passive-aggressive, intimidation-style recruitment was their standard modus operandi, just tuned to reflect the priority of whoever they were targeting. Given what I'd managed to dig up from the internet, saved in archived sites, I'd honestly not put it past them to try bullying people into compliance, directly or indirectly.

Still, the joke was on them, since they were probably going to regret how they conducted themselves real soon.

In fact...

Tiamat? Between one moment and the next, my link to the greater Hivemind expanded, tracing along the line of communication between myself and the one I had chosen to address as Qubits resonated with one another, burning themselves out with each exchange of data. Even as I did so, I continued to assimilate the data-packages that came through the link, while continuing to manoeuvre my bike at high-speed, heading for home, fully aware of everything I was doing, simultaneously.

What do you require, Alpha? Were Tiamat's first words as the link formed, a projection of her chosen avatar floating through my mind's eye as she spoke.

What's the current status of the Nemesis Contingent? Was my response, already pulling at the information as SECOND catalogued it for easier assimilation into my mind. Several reports cropped to the front of my awareness even as they were integrated in short order, giving a snapshot of progress several hours old.

Currently, the Nemesis Contingent consists of thirty-two Hunt-Packs, each consisting of five Servant Minds clad in Nemesis-Pattern Hunter-Killer Warrior-Forms. The remaining eighteen Hunt-Packs remain in various stages of gestation, but will be fully assembled and ready to serve within the next thirty standard-hours, with the reserve force of an additional one hundred Hunt-Packs due to be completed within the next one-hundred-and-twenty standard-hours. There was no delay as the response came, accompanied by bursts of information-dense packages that gave a more up-to-date picture of the Contingent's current status. Everything from individual reports and equipment overviews, to reports detailing possible upgrades, generated by the various Minds currently overseeing their growth. The latter ranges from minor alterations, to major modifications, all of which were designed to increase the combat capabilities of the Nemesis-Class even further.

An interesting, and slightly terrifying, prospect, given how much more lethal these new hyper-soldiers were, in comparison to even the 'baseline' Podders that I was already mass producing.

Good work, Tiamat. I began, emotions carrying through the link along with the compliment. Keep on schedule, but begin a staggered deployment of the Hunt-Packs over the next few days, with ten deploying today, another ten tomorrow, and ten more the day after. The rest can wait to be deployed on the original deadline, as outlined in Phase two-B of Operation Judas Iscariot, two weeks from now. Also, pass along this data-package to the Lawson sisters, to keep them updated.

As you command, Alpha. As soon as the words were sent, the Hivemind responded, the Nemesis Contingent beginning to deploy via a number of different methods, scattering across the country as they went to carry out the broad objectives assigned to them.

And with that, I allowed the connection to close as the data-package finished being transferred, leaving me alone with only my own thoughts and my SECOND as company, my connection to the greater Hivemind dulled slightly by distance and the limited range of it's own Influence. What information I still had floating through my head was rapidly assimilating, allowing me to focus more and more attention on the world around me, and my own thoughts, as I raced down the highway in a blur of motion. Speed only possible thanks to the various systems integrated into my bike. Systems like combined A-Pod/Eezo-enhanced drive system, adaptive traction management systems, an inverted form of the Road Extension Spell, the Hyperspeed Para-Psychic power, among various others.

A normal Human wouldn't have had a chance in hell of getting the most out of my bike, something I was only able to do thanks to a mix of Para-Psychic powers, Posthuman reflexes, and my direct neural link with the bike itself.

Still, that was kind of the point, in all honesty.

I mean, I could have easily just teleported back to Brockton Bay, or flew, or used a portal of some description. The journey would have been over in an instant, the travel time being nonexistent. However, it wouldn't have given me any time to think, to reflect, though, that was more a side-benefit, than anything else.

After all, what was the point of having so many capabilities, if I couldn't use them to have a bit of fun every now and then?

XXX

By the time I get back to Brockton Bay, celebrations are in full swing as ad-hoc street parties burst into existence, news of the Nine's death having spread rapidly. Bars had either opened early or stayed open since last night, when my video had been released, as patrons alternate between rushing in and staggering out. Likewise, any shop that sells Alcohol was seeing a surge in business, as bottles were ripped off the shelves faster than they could be refilled. On the way in, I'd seen more than a few shops simply skip the middle man and pile boxes of spirits and beers by the checkouts, allowing those manning them to simply reach in and grab one for whoever they were currently serving. And that was without considering what was happening with the rest of their stock, which was being bought in bulk by dozens of enterprising individuals that had chosen to act as street vendors, selling burgers, hot dogs and a dozen other flavours of meals or treats.

Those still trying to get into work were few and far between, the roads too crowded with celebrating bodies for any real progress to be made. More than once, I'd found that out and been forced to redirect, taking advantage of my bikes unique capabilities and simply driving up the wall of some building, and going along the roof. Those that see me don't even notice, a mixture of modified Traceless Pass Enchantments and light-warping via Biotics, helped along by how drunk most of them had to be, along with people's lack of inclination to look up.

Not that they had any reason to, since they were too busy celebrating, savouring the drop of good news, especially after living for so long being drowned in nothing but bad news.

By the time I arrive back at my base, I hear the echoes of fireworks in the distance, over the Broadwalk, difficult to spot in the lightening sky, but I doubted that would bother anyone, being too deep in their cups to care. Parking my bike in my workshop, and leaving my helmet on a nearby workbench, I made my way to the apartment-space, where the sensor network of my base of operation inform me that the Lawson sisters await.

Stepping into the apartment-space, I immediately spotted the two bio-engineered sisters, Miranda sat at the dining table, calmly eating from a bowl of cereal with one hand while scrolling through various internet pages on her laptop with the other. Oriana, on the other hand, is leaning against the kitchenette's counter, waiting for a pot of coffee to finish brewing, as she watches some news clips that were playing on her own laptop, laid out on the same counter. Both girls were wearing their choice of sleep wear, Oriana, with her oversized T-shirt and shorts, and Miranda, with an unbranded pyjama top-and-trouser-combo. Almost as soon as I had finished taking in the room, and it's occupants, both sisters had started reacting to my presence, turning in my direction.

"Good morning, ladies." I offering in greeting, closing the door behind me. Turning back around, I move just in time for Oriana to have crossed the distance between us and half-launch herself at me.

"Nathan!" She said, as way of greeting, her arms wrapping around me as she presses herself into my side in a one-armed hug, her other waving wildly as she continues speaking. "That was awesome, Nathan! Those clips, there all over a dozen forms and people are going crazy over them! The news is showing nothing else, and they've got a dozen experts all trying to make heads or tails of what you did!"

"Congratulations, Nathan." Miranda offered with a smile, toasting her own glass of orange juice towards me, even as I made my way over to the table, Oriana still holding onto me like a limpet, only letting go after one last, long, squeeze. "The Nine are dead, and the world knows that you, or your alias, did it, not the PRT and the Protectorate. Something they've been forced to admit, with no small amount of grit teeth, I suspect."

"Oh, I've got no doubt about that, especially given the shit they pulled when I was trying to get the bounty money from them." I commented, agreeing easily with Miranda's point, as I walked over to the table and took a seat, Oriana close behind with a cup of coffee in one hand and her retrieved laptop in the other. Hearing my words, the younger Lawson snorted in amusement as she took her seat, taking a sip of her coffee as she did so.

"Yeah, we heard. Tiamat passed along your message about what happened." Oriana commented as she leaned back in her chair, taking another sip of coffee. "We already know it was a power play, but I'm willing to bet that part of the reason they kept it going so long was to give them time to react to what you did. Definitely fits with what I've been seeing online."

"Agreed." Miranda voiced, only to continue as she saw my raised eyebrow. "More than a few have commented about relatives in the Protectorate suddenly being recalled, holidays cancelled and told to get to the branch they're stationed at as quickly as possible. Nothing has been said, officially, but you'd need to be blind to not see that this is being done in response to the Death of the Nine, and in preparation for something."

"I'd put good odds on it being a prelude to some kind of short-term, high-intensity operation, or series of operations, 'cause this reeks of an initial panic response and someone going into full-on crisis management mode." Oriana added with a shrug. "Probably doesn't help that a few have already noticed that you did, in five minutes, what the Protectorate has been trying, and failing, to do for the last twenty years."

"So, an attempt to take people's minds off their failings by doing a few dozen crash-operations across all of their areas of operation, and flooding the news channels with a tilted account of them, to move the public perception away from their own failings and onto something else?" I asked, more out of a desire for confirmation than anything else, and getting a nod from Miranda in turn.

"Yes, though, they'd probably suffer for it, if only due to the fact that they really aren't built for that kind of high operations tempo, along with it working to polarise certain blocks against them, while reinforcing the views of others." Miranda confirmed, offering additional explanation as she went. "Politically, they'd still be in hot water, but taking their greatest, most glaring failure out of the public eye would be to their benefit, even if it might give their detractors more ammunition to throw at them later."

"It might have worked, too." Oriana added, looking thoughtful as she nursed her coffee, pausing for a moment to take a sip, before grinning as she continued. "Unfortunately for them, they're working under the mistaken assumptions that there is either only one 'Silencer,' or a very small number of them, which is bound to bite them in the ass, very quickly."

"It will bite them in the ass, especially since they've already started sending out the first wave of press releases via online statements, with an announcement of press meetings being scheduled for later today." Miranda countered, turning her laptop so that we could all see it, showing an online news letter that had been released by the PRT, via one of their puppet media services. "Most of them, from what I've seen, are pretty light on detail, offering their congratulations for killing the Nine, but follow it up with a series of repproachments about how you went about it. Mostly about the dangers of acting without support, which the PRT and Protectorate could have provided, along with further comments about the necessity of coordinating with them."

"Damming with faint praise, much?" Oriana questioned with an amused snort, her eyes tracing over the article even as she took another sip.

"Oh, very much so, but the PRT and the Protectorate just took a hit to their collective reputation, in more ways than one, so them trying to claw back something from it, by making everyone else look back, is to be expected." Miranda noted, getting a nod from Oriana in turn.

"Yeah, but do they need to be so blatant about it?" Oriana questioned, taking another sip of her coffee as she did so. "I mean, couldn't they have come up with something better? Something that doesn't scream of pure propaganda? The stuff they usually put out isn't exactly great, to one degree or another, but it usually doesn't scream 'heavy bias' right off the bat like this does."

"Probably because they're rushing to put out something, anything, that would let them get control of the narrative as fast as possible, mixed with a bit of panic from getting no forewarning about the death of the Nine happening from their collective of Magic-8 balls. Either set of them." I offered as a theory started coming together in my mind, one supported by the simple evidence that I was still alive, despite blabbing the secrets of both the Golden Idiot, and the League of Extraordinary Idiots.

"Your Wards and Enchantments?" Miranda questioned, immediately catching onto what I was implying as I nodded in agreement.

"Only thing I can think of that would have an effect, since everything else would either grab a Shard's attention or not have any kind of effect on their sight." I remarked back, getting a thoughtful nod in return. "Though, with the way most Thinkers are, in generally, I've got doubts they'd even notice in those cases."

"Makes sense. Even if they're vague at the best of times, having large numbers of Thinkers would give, and has given, the PRT a massive edge over any potential competition, even if it was just as a scattershot look into the future. And that's without considering Cauldron's assets, as well." Miranda voiced, her gaze turning thoughtful for a moment as she glanced back at the screen of her laptop. "And, since they can't see you and the rest of us, thanks to your Wards, they're basically blind to what we might do next. Though, that does beg the question of, if the PRT was willing to use Thinker assets to do things like this, what else were they using them for behind the scenes?"

"If I had to guess? Getting rid of the competition altogether, along with some recruitment as a side bonus." Oriana noted, turning her own laptop around to face her sister and I, showing a regional newsletter discussing the disbandment of an independent group of Heroes that had been based out of Portland. Skimming over the article, I immediately saw what Oriana meant, as the article was light on detail, but went out of it's way to dramatise a Cape Fight gone wrong that ended with two independent Heroes dead, one needing to be taken to a hospital, the remaining six with various injuries and a further twenty-seven bystanders dead. Of those seven remaining Independents, five of them had apparently gone on to join the Protectorate, 'recognising the value of the support offered by the organisation and the good they could do as part of it.'

"Not very subtle, but definitely a lot more subtle than what they did for the announcement about the Nine's death." I commented, getting a slight nod from Miranda in turn, even as I looked up to Oriana. "I assume there were others as well?"

"Yep!" Oriana confirmed, popping the 'p' as she did so, her hand tracing across the laptop's track pad as she switched tabs, displaying multiple other articles that all showed a lot of similar themes: Independent Hero groups suffer some form of incident, disband, and the PRT moves in to clean things up, recruiting the former Independents into the Protectorate while plastering their propaganda everywhere. After going through every tab on the window, she stopped on the last one, announcing the death of an Independent Hero, that the PRT had used as a platform to spout even more propaganda. "At first glance, a lot of it just looks like business as usual, but I found a few archived posts on PHO, along with a few other sites, that talked about these events. There's not a lot of details, unfortunately, but more than a few people commented on how, when the PRT and Protectorate arrived, they seemed a bit too prepared. Like they'd known about what was going to happen, in advance, and been ready to move in at the best possible time. Admittedly, most of the posters were shouted down as being conspiracy theorists, but I honestly can't say they were wrong, especially with what we know now."

"At the very least, the entire situation will unbalance the PRT, along with giving their political opponents plenty of opportunities to get free hits in, and taking the PRT's main focus away from us, at least for a while." Miranda stated, getting a nod from Oriana as she drained the last of her coffee before placing the cup down on the table. "Even so, they will try to get back at us for this humiliation in some way or another, even if it isn't until a lot further down the road."

"Maybe, but that won't be for a while, like you said, Miri. Too busy trying to save their own skins." Oriana shot back cheekily, grinning as she did so.

"Fair." Miranda agreed, before turning to regard me. "Though, that still leaves the question of what our next move is, given this new factor we need to take into account, Nathan?"

"For now, I'd say that our best option is to keep to the plan, barring the alterations I've already made due to releasing the Nemesis Contingent early, and with a few alterations." I stated easily, having thought about it on the ride back from the PRT office. "As things stand, the PRT are going to be too busy dealing with the multiple hits that are coming their way, to be a threat to us for the time being. Aside from that, I've got a few new leads for research projects, thanks to the stuff I picked up from the Nine, and I've decided that going to Winslow just isn't really worth it. I mean, getting access to the two Parahumans that are going to be present there would be a boon, but I could do that just as easily, without having to be physically present, thanks to the Ceph's growing Influence."

"So, planning to test out?" Oriana inquired, getting a nod from me.

"I was looking into how to get a GED on the way back, and I've got a few ideas for getting that all squared away." I answered with a shrug. "Shouldn't take much of the day, especially since I got in touch with the therapist I was supposed to go to today, which has apparently closed for the day in order for the staff to all get drunk in celebration. Though, they didn't phrase it quite like that."

"Not really all that surprising, given what just happened." Miranda shot back amusedly, getting a half-shrug from me.

"True." Was my own response, as I continued. "So, those are my plans for the time being, what about yourselves, ladies?"

"Not really much we can do, since everything's basically ground to a halt while everyone's off celebrating the death of the Nine." Oriana answered with a shrug, before pausing and adding. "Well, everyone that isn't one of your Podders, that is. Though, they should probably take some time off as well, if only so no one gets any suspicions, or something."

"Ori's right, Nathan." Miranda added with a nod of her own. "We were supposed to have meetings with both the Dockworker's Union and City hall today, but I have doubts they'll go ahead, if only because everyone will be too busy having fun to do any work. Aside from that, there were a few new business avenues that we were planning to look at with the management teams that the Podders have organised themselves into, but not much else."

"Which business avenues?" I asked, curious, even as the reports bubbled to the surface of my thoughts while Miranda continued to speak.

"A few ideas for selling various kinds of Safeguard merchandise, along with getting the brand trademarked so that no one could infringe on it without permission. Plus, an idea for the creation of our own news agency, both as a source of more income, along with as a method of countering the various propaganda pieces that the PRT are always putting out. Aside from that, there were a few more ideas for software-based products, along with support services for them, and some ideas for games to sell via online marketplaces, but nothing major." Miranda remarked with a smirk and a half-shrug of her own. "Still, altogether, it should provide a good and varied source of funding that can be put towards other projects, at the very least."

"And, given the sales projections they've already forwarded us, on the games, that's going to be a lot." Oriana added with a smirk of her own, causing me to snort in amusement at those words.

"Then, I shall leave it all in your capable hands." I stated, rising from my seat before pushing the now-empty seat back under the table. "If either of you need me, I'll be in my Workshop, or down in the Caverns."

With that said, I turned and made my way out of the apartment-space, as both Lawson sisters nodded after me, voicing 'See you laters' as I absently waved back at them over a shoulder. Even as I did so, my mind had moved on to focus on other projects that I'd previously only been giving a fragment of my attention. Namely, those same new research avenues that I'd spoke of to the pair of gene-engineered sisters that I'd just left behind as I moved elsewhere. Already, my workshop was in motion as I approached it, nano-spores reconfiguring and smart materials altering themselves to form new patterns, new devices that were required for the work to come.

And there was much work to be done.

XXX

Stepping into my workshop, I watched as the last of my desired alterations took shape, forming into the equipment I'd need for the coming research.

As I looked on, a pillar rose to waist height from the ground, flowing upwards four segmented rings of black material formed around it, and above it. Energy pulsed within the pillar at my approach, tracing up through root-like growths and filling it, even as I felt the focus now being directed towards it, as a dozen Minds all turned their full attention towards a single spot at once. More tools followed, as another, far larger ring of segmented metal rose from the floor, hovering above the completed pillar as the energy pulses steadied, reaching a zenith. Six points around this new ring expanded with rapid growth as long, multi-jointed limbs extended out from each point, tipped with an array of tools and devices, scanners and probes. A dozen different types of scientific and investigative instruments lined the entire construct, enough that even a casual glance could see what had been created, all formatted into being for a specific purpose.

At my approach, the still limbs of the construct shifted and twitched, seemingly wanting to move, but restraining themselves. Within the Hivemind, I could feel the attention of the dozen Minds that were already focused on this location, their gazes alternating between me and the top of the pillar, broadcasting an mixture of alien eagerness and anticipation. In many ways, they already knew what I'd brought back from my hunt, the primary research materials for the new projects I had decided to start.

As such, I wasted no time, pressing my hand into the side of my lower torso, feeling only a hint of resistance before my hand pushed inside my own nano-enhanced flesh. Fingers wrapped around an object, one previously kept hidden within the confines of my body, safe from prying eyes, before I held it out in front of me. Eezo nodes flared, grabbing the object in carefully calibrated Mass Effect fields, gently pulling it from my hand and slowly towards the pillar as the various sensors in each limb-array watched it with utter focus.

In truth, I could understand why the Minds were so interested in this singular object, or, more specifically, the contents it held, which I could see through the transparent walls surrounding it.

The Corona Pollentia and Gemma of Jack Slash.

On their own, they were of limited use, perhaps, to examine the structure of the Shard-created organs that were used to link Shard and Host. However, something I'd discovered on my way back from killing the Nine had been that, even after the death of the Host, the link between the Shard and the Host doesn't completely close. Sure, it shrank as a result of the Host's death, but it didn't necessarily seal itself off, at least, not to the Influence radiated from the Ceph Hivemind, or me, for that matter. It was a discovery that offered a wealth of opportunities, especially when one considered just how many Parahumans existed with a Kill Order, or an equivalent, hanging over them. Something that turned the financial reward into a rather nice side bonus, rather than the main attraction.

Still, many birds, one stone.

Eventually, the canister arrived over the pillar and one of the smaller segmented rings rose up from around the pillar to encircle it. Almost as soon as that happened, the canister that held both Corona Pollentia and Gemma began to dissolve, pulled apart by applications of Disassemblers and precision Mass Effect Fields. A miniature forest of Fractal Digits rose from the surface of the ring, grasping at the recovered lump of neural matter and holding it in place. Nanoswarms were deployed in needle-thin streams that infiltrated the bundle of synapses and neurons, investigating and analysising. Sensors watched from overhead, recording everything even as Ceph Thought-Energy pulsed, pushing beyond the confines of the integrated storage prisms that held it within the pillar. With each pulse, wisps of red Thought-Energy slithered into existence, pulsing in time with the pillar as they slowly crept closer towards their target.

Then, I felt it, the moment that the wisps made contact semi-sealed gateway between Host and Shard, and pushed. Immediately, I felt the focus of the Minds gathered for this shift, their undivided attention honed on this singular point as the gateway was gently wedged open, allowing access to the Shard itself. Almost as soon as that initial connection was made, data started pouring back through the gateway, carefully copied and transferred from the Shard to the waiting Minds, that then distributed it amongst themselves, assimilating it in short order. That volume of data only grew larger and larger with each second that ticked by, growing by drops, but growing all the same. Even so, the process itself would be undertaken with utmost care and attention to detail, measures being taken so as to avoid the attention of the Shard's main consciousness. At least, it would be, until said consciousness was completely subverted and assimilated into the Ceph Hivemind. It was an outcome I did not doubt as, while the Ceph Minds had many qualities, patience was something they had in quantities to outmass multiple stars. Something that, when alloyed with a lethal cunning and a killer sense of opportunity, made for a terrifying combination to be on the receiving end of.

With those thoughts in mind, I reached back inside of myself and pulled out the other prizes I'd claimed, trophies taken from members of the Nine that I'd killed. Following on from the brain-matter of Jack Slash, came the Pollentia-Gemma pairs from other members of the Nine that had been killed, most having been extracted from the remains of one member or another, but some had required a bit of sleight of hand to obtain. Mannequin, William Manton, Shatterbird, Burnscar, Hatchet-Face and Bonesaw, only Crawler's Pollentia-Gemma pair was unaccounted for, due to the method of his execution leaving no remains behind. An unfortunate waste, but one that couldn't have been avoided, given his abilities and the difficulties involved in trying to do so. Still, at the very least, I'd managed to acquire a large amount of data from a number of very thorough scans of his biology, something that could be put to good use in the future, given the number of novel structures and interesting quirks present in it.

When the last Pollentia-Gemma pair had been collected within the array of rings and sensors, I took a step back, watching as the floor of my workshop shifted, an entire segment of it moving downwards, taking the pillar with it, as it descended into The Cavern. New nano-spores flowed inwards from the edges of the hole, moving to seal the gateway as soon as the entire assembly was below ground. Within moments, not a single trace of either the Pollentia-Gemma pairs or the array holding them remained, having disappeared into the underground maze of tunnels and conduits, and leaving me alone in my workshop.

Taking a step away from where I stood, my form rippled as visible armour plates disappeared, reformatting into a more casual appearance, as I made my way across my workshop. Inside me, my last two main prizes shifted as they were forced to the surface of my body, dropping into waiting hands that immediately placed them on the top of my workstation as soon as I reached it. Before I'd even taken a seat, Eezo nodes activated and caused the two objects to float above the workstation, in a mimicry of what had happened to the Pollentia-Gemma pairs of the now-dead Hosts. Sensors flared to life, focused on their small targets as automated systems carefully swept over them, documenting everything as streams of nanomachines were projected at them by tiny gravitational fields.

Each of the two objects, like the Pollentia-Gemma pairs, were small, but, unlike those slices of neural matter, these were not connected or linked to some other dimension or source of power. Instead, I'd taken them for what they contained, and what they were.

Data storage devices.

Both were hard drives of one description or another, designed for the same purpose, but the methods used to do so were as vastly different as the means of their construction. The first one, having been created by Bonesaw, was a mess of neural tissue harvested from several brains, linked together by a frankensteinian mesh of nerve fibre and tissue, and kept alive by a series of cybernetic additions that spiralled across each stolen lobe. In many ways, even as I looked at it, it was still alive, kept alive by the cybernetic implants that had been grafted onto the still-living tissues, recycling nutrients, pulling in fresh oxygen through a series of gill-like structures, while expelling waste products from different sets of gills. It was a horror show that I'd originally found within the half-destroyed case of, what had once been, a monitor-PC hybrid within the remains of the Nine's mobile home. Aside from a few notebooks I'd also grabbed from the remains of Bonesaw's lab, everything else had been destroyed, either from the original missile hit, or as I was picking through the pieces, since I didn't want someone to stumble across samples of her one of her 'spare' bio-weapons and release one by mistake, or on purpose.

The other drive was a cuboid of white material, formed from a complex weave of substances, and sealed away from the outside world. Only a single access point allowed for data to be input or output from the device, but, according to the scans I'd taken, that could be cut off to allow the device to seal itself off from the outside world. The thing was effectively a perfect time capsule, insulated against any condition it could experience and impervious to physical impacts thanks to using a solid-state memory substrate, as opposed to a more breakable disk. Honestly, with the way the thing was built, it could probably have survived being launched from a volcano or enduring a nuclear explosion at point-blank ranges, and still function perfectly afterwards. The fact that it also had a memory capacity measuring into the Petabytes, and was about half full of data, just made it even better.

And, while they both, along with the notebooks, didn't hold anywhere near the same amount of data as the actual Shard, they still held potentially valuable information. Information that, unlike a Shard, could be accessed a lot more easily, something that was demonstrated within moments as a flex of will created an artificial connection, bridging the gap between different types of hardware and software configurations without pause, allowing automated systems to being the process of stripping them both bare of data. SECOND linked to the workstation, guiding the effort as data was collected, collated, and organised into various reports that were fired off, both to myself and the rest of the Hivemind. Designs, blueprints and chemical formulas were quickly pulled apart and analysed as the data continued to flow, more so as detailed scans of each drive allowed SECOND to analyse them in turn, working out how they functioned.

Taking one of the notebooks, I flicked it open at the first page, noting the date that had apparently been writing in the margin of the heavily-used page, covered in yet more chemical formula, anatomical diagrams and DNA maps. Leaning back in my chair, I started flicking through the pages, even as sensors scanned through the entire notebook, assembling a 3D duplicate within the growing archive that SECOND and the Ceph Minds were building within the Hivemind. Within moments, a dozen Minds had already assimilated the new information, attaching a dozen additional reports and notes to the duplicate, each filled with findings, theories and data points that were slowly building up to construct a more complete picture of the interactions between Tinker-Hosts and their Shards.

Namely, on the different methods that Tinker-Shards went about allowing a Tinker to produce their technologies, and what that meant for me and mine, when we data-mined them for their secrets.

However, before I could too far into those thoughts, a request for a communication link sprang to the forefront of my thoughts.

Alpha. Was the first thing I heard across the channel after accepting the link, spoken in the serene tones of Tiamat as she continued. May I have a moment of your time?

You may, Tiamat. What do you require? Was my response, even as a portion of my attention remained focused on the notebook in minds hands, fingers lightly flicking over to the next page as eyes scanned over the contents with idle interest.

May I have your permission to deploy several Hunt-packs of Hurtling-Pattern Warrior-Drones and Seed-Relays? Came Tiamat's request, causing me to stop in my reading as the notebook snapped shut, my full attention now focused on the communication link.

For what reason? I asked, curious as to what could require that level of firepower, the specifications of that particular type of Warrior-Drone already floating through my mind and reminding me of just how potent they were, especially in comparison to the 'original' designs that I'd been provided with.

The retrieval of several Hosts of potential interest, along with a number that have been marked as being of top priority, and ensuring their integration into the Hive, along with planting several Seed-Relays to both expand the Influence of the Hive, and allow for continuous Data-mining and subversion of Shards through the Host-Shard Connection of several Hosts within target areas. Further, their continued presence in targeted areas would allow for potential slow-integration to be undertaken, bringing them into the Hive in the future. Alongside this, the removal of several destabilising elements can be undertaken, and their Host-Shard Connections harvested. Tiamat replied, her explanation expanded upon by a series of reports that shot across the communication link, showing comprehensive files that had been assembled on each target. Several of them, I immediately recognised from their names alone, being either local, well-known, or a mixture of both. Others took a second to click, helped along by SECOND assimilating the information within the files, collating it with information found online. Finally, a second list came, filled with the names of those Parahumans that were to be removed, either due to being known problems from canon, or ones that might cause problems further down the road.

And you believe that you'll be able to convince them all to either join or support us? Without exposing us or leaving evidence for someone to trace back to us? Of either their recruitment or elimination? I asked, instead of immediately giving the green light for Tiamat to go ahead with her proposed operation. It was a matter of risk-vs-reward, and I wanted to ensure that things were tilted as far into the 'reward' side of things as possible.

Without doubt, Alpha. Came Tiamat's response, entirely confident in the outcome as more reports came back, written based on the outcomes of several Precognitive sweeps of potential futures, and the timelines that resulted from decisions yet to be made. And, in each of them, I saw how the complex weave of potential outcomes and decisions narrowed down to a single outcome, only to branch out further down the line of each individual. It wasn't an exact science, but it was enough for me to understand why Tiamat was so confident in this course of action. A quick check of my own, via SECOND, provided similar results, as I saw several of the targets joining the Hive, seeming to be genuinely happy to do so, in several possible timelines. Again, not an exact science, but worked well enough as a method of confirmation.

... Alright, you have my permission to act. I began. However, I want you to ensure that absolutely nothing can be traced back to us, in any way, shape or form. If that means faking the deaths of a few individuals, after they've been made aware of that possibility and the advantages of it, then do so.

As you command, Alpha. With that said, the communication link closed, leaving me alone once more, with only the notebook, my thoughts, SECOND and the low-level buzz of several Minds working away, as company. Flicking the notebook back open, I continued from where I had been before the communication link had been opened, attention splitting as I started observing the dozens of reports and data-flows that were being generated by the data-mining processes. And, already, the process had produced several nuggets of gold that the Minds had gathered from the ever-increasing tide of data that was being acquired from each of the Shards, teased from them with utmost care and caution. Such gems were already being put to use, even. Used to craft new tools and designs, made even better, thanks to the stolen knowledge of the Shards, which had been stolen in turn.

Prometheus would be proud, I supposed, of how far we've come.

XXX

The instant the Link closes, and having been authorised to act by the Alpha, Tiamat begins to put the pieces into motion.

Immediately, Hurtling-Pattern Warrior-Drones stirred to life at her command, their Minds awakening fully for the first time since they had created. The membrane-like surface of a dozen Assembly Vats, each located deep under the surface of the world, stretched and parted as clawed manipulators pushed their outwards. Manipulators gave way to heavily armoured limbs, followed by shoulders and then the rest, as each drone stepped out of its birthing cocoon for the first time in their entire existence. Nano-muscle bundles flexed and stretched, testing their capabilities as the Warrior-Minds in control of each Frame rapidly analysed their bodies, learning their capabilities through both physical action and information assimilation. Soon, other capabilities beyond the mere physical began to be tested and integrated into the knowledge-base of the Warrior-Minds, before fading back into nothingness.

The entire process took less than twenty-three seconds, conducted with utmost efficiency before leaving them ready to serve the Alpha and the Hive.

Ready to kill in service to the Alpha and the Hive.

Words weren't exchanged, but instructions were given in a single pulse of intent, eyes flashing as each Warrior-Drone received their instructions and pulsed back an acknowledgement of their own. Without pause, each Warrior-Drone burst into motion, seamlessly flowing into Hunt-packs as they surged through the system of caves that had been their birthing wombs. As they made their way to their assigned objectives, Tiamat watched them go, blurs of motion made even faster by the technologies harvested, and gifted, by the Alpha. In mere minutes, the Warrior-Drones disappeared from the Caverns and made their way into the wider world, fading into the shadows and stalking through streets or underground passages of the Hive-analogues, completely unknown and unseen by the Cattle-Stock that considered themselves the masters of this world.

An amusing notion, and one that only highlighted the depths of their ignorance.

Something that, sooner or later, she'd ensure was corrected, and they were made to understand their true place in the order of things.

In service to the Alpha and the Hive.

XXX

AN: So, there you have it, the immediate aftermath of the Nine being put down like dogs, and the gears starting to turn as people either celebrate, scramble or scheme. Hope you lot enjoyed it and, as always, feel free to give suggestions, feedback and comments as the story progresses.

Cheers!

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