In the Mavericks hideout, somewhere in the depths of the city, by an abandoned subway line, uncomfortably close to the sewers, there's a treasure trove of gear that needs to be sorted through, if it's to be put to use for trying to save the world.
While Jason tends to one of the particulars of that plan, Cadena and Tracy are left with the task of taking inventory and hunting for anything that might be usable.
"I wish we had a robot for this," Tracy notes as she goes through boxes, digital clip-board in hand.
The white dog-humanoid looks over a device somewhat uncertainly. It's an Eagle Stun-bayonet, though the "bayonet" is a misnomer, as there are no sharp surfaces evident. The more-or-less cylindrical device has multi-purpose attachments to be mounted onto any number of assault rifles, but right now Cadena compares it to his staff. He looks up. "We have a rob-- oh, right." He shakes his head. "Right, I doubt that's in its programming."
Opening a case, Tracy lifts out a fancy side-arm. "These things are heavier than you think they'd be," she says. "Is there anything you'd like me to keep watch for while I sort my half of the room?"
"Well," Cadena says, "I've been trying to find something to add a little more 'punch' if I'm going to be wading into a fight. However, I'd prefer something that won't be ... well ... lethal, if I can help it." He turns the stun-stick over in his hand, regarding it. "Of course, none of this comes with a manual. I should probably test this before actually using it." He fiddles with it, and a few sparks light up from around the business end, causing him to jerk back, ears flattening in alarm. He shudders. "I don't think this was put away properly."
"Can you actually use your staff as a weapon?" Tracy asks, as she sorts through ammo packs. "I mean.. have you ever been a fighter in any of the VR games you played with Margie?"
Cadena lets out an embarrassed laugh. "Yes, I've used the staff, but it's never been very effective, not even in VR. As for being a fighter ... well, I fought with an 'axe' in Metal Galaxy Epic. It looked rather suspiciously like that prototype that they let me borrow at Avatars Headquarters. I wasn't expecting to find something quite like that; I just asked if they happened to have a guitar, but I guess that sort of design is popular with fantasy bards."
The dog-humanoid drops one of the stun-sticks into a backpack to the site, taking some notes, and then he carefully sorts out the rest and puts them over with all the assault-weapon accessories (bayonets, scopes, laser sights) he's sorted out. "Oh! I found another military webbing set. These are good for distributing weight and keeping your ammunition handy. It's just a bit ... well ... bulky and conspicuous. Not something I could hide under my robes."
"We can use it to attach things to the Einhorn though," Tracy notes. She's found several cases of 'bolts' is starting to sort them out. "I need to find some Eagle Security armor too, if possible.."
"Ah," Cadena says. "I think I saw some over in the lockers over there. The previous occupants apparently already dug through them a bit, so they're really disordered, but I'm sure something can be pieced together. The trouble will be finding the right fit."
The dog-humanoid pauses, considering. "I just got this strange mental image of what it might be like if this is a regular business for your family - all this adventuring and such - whether you've ever gone out shopping with your mother for protective gear - you know, proper fit, in the latest styles, that sort of thing."
"My regular clothes are lightly armored, actually," Tracy admits. "Ever since the attack four years ago, I've worn some sort of armor.."
"Ah," Cadena says, nodding. "That makes sense. It's really hard on laundry machines, though. Ms. Arcadia had all of Margaret's 'going out' clothes cleaned by a service, of course, so I don't really know much about the particulars." He looks at Tracy, considering. "Is it true that you used to dress all in black and neon-orange?"
"Yes.. but who.." Tracy starts to ask, then just shakes her head. "I should be grateful that mother didn't show you baby pictures of me.."
"Actually..." Cadena stops, clearing his throat. "Why would that be?" he says, trying to cover.
"You mean.. why did I dress like that?" Tracy asks.
"Ah ... sure," Cadena says. "I really don't have an in-depth knowledge of recent history past, oh, four years ago or so, other than what I've read up, and fashion hasn't been a particular area of focus."
"It was expensive clothing meant to look shabby and jarring," Tracy says. "It was part of the Neon-Goth look.. I was just really rebellious at the time, is all. I was bouncing between my parents' houses and.. I was just stupid."
Cadena's ears flick. "No, please, don't call yourself stupid." He frowns, pausing in sorting out some boxes, to look over at Tracy. "Bouncing between houses is bound to be disruptive. And, besides ... actually, orange and black might not be such a bad look on you."
Tracy gives Cadena an odd look, and asks, "Are you partly color-blind like a real dog is?"
The white dog-humanoid says, "No, but ... I respect that you have far more expertise in these matters than I do, Onee-sama. As I noted earlier, it's not like I've ever been responsible for picking out my own attire. Putting on that lab coat I do believe represents the first time I ever had to dress myself."
"Er, actually, on the topic of disruption," Cadena says, even though that was a little while ago, "I suppose you're missing your exams now, aren't you? Did you have settled what major you'd be pursuing?"
"Anyway.. it's find for fourteen-year-olds but not for me now," Tracy says. She checks a bolt, realizes HE means 'High Explosive' and gingerly puts it back into its case. "Why the interest in .. how I dress?" she asks.
"It's a new concern for me," Cadena says, somewhat sheepishly. "I haven't had to put much thought into it before."
"But you won't be dressing like a girl," Tracy points out. "Unless you need lots of space between your fur and fabric to keep cool."
"Not voluntarily, no," Cadena says, "but Margaret wasn't very particular about ... hmm. Well, after all, I'm a dog, you see. Eh.... Oh, look! More weapons!" He pulls out another shotgun to add to the stack. It's one of those "Spazztic!" models, with the gratuitous pumping action so would-be action heroes can rack the shotgun just like the movies for dramatic effect, without wasting a perfectly good shell in the process.
"Speaking of that," Tracy says, "I didn't really look under your robes, but can you still run on all fours like that or do you have an actual butt and stuff now, so will need pants?"
"Er ... well, yes, that's a valid concern," Cadena says. "No, running on all fours like this would not be practical and, yes, I've developed a concern for propriety that I didn't have to worry about before."
"Ah ... right," Cadena says. "You know, actually, I was kind of hoping that if we were working together here, I'd get to learn a little more about you. I mean, I've been following you around for ... four days now? Three? It's hard to keep track. And I still don't really know much about you. Your favorite foods, what sort of foods you can't stand, preferred colors, music, what sorts of games - aside from those involving lots of running and jumping of course - that sort of thing."
"Okay, maybe some martial-arts style pants would be best then," Tracy says, and looks through a manual for the Eagle Bolter handgun.
The dog-humanoid nods quietly, sorting through the gas masks, and checking the seals.
"You really want to know all that stuff?" Tracy asks, surprised. "I mean.. well, I figured you'd be going back to Margie.." she admits.
Cadena looks up, over to Tracy. "Is that what you think would be best? I mean ..." He pauses. Perhaps he isn't certain what he means. "I suppose if Fuseli were here, you wouldn't exactly need two pets. But ... right now, he's just virtual, right? So I might still be useful in the Real World."
"That's not the point," Tracy says. "You've known me for a few days, and Margie for.. months? Years? I mean.. I don't know what I mean!" The girl throws her hands up in frustration, and then says, "I don't know if you like me or if you're just programmed to like whoever my mother tells you to serve. So, it's got to be your choice, and I don't see that you'd choose a stranger over someone you've known for probably most of your existence.."
Cadena stops sorting for a bit, frowning. "You're not the only one ... who's accused me of that," he says. "I've pondered over the problem before. I guess you must have viewed the interrogation footage, then?"
"The what footage?" Tracy asks.
"The ..." Cadena shakes his head. "I was talking with Sasha earlier. It was pretty stupid of me, now that I think about it, telling her that anything she told me was confidential. I mean, Eddie was right there - or one of them, anyway - and the recorders were still going. But ... I digress. The point was just that there's the matter of my programming. I've always had it. It's not all something that Avatars LLC stuck in me somehow. I think it was part of whatever part of me was supposed to be an Avatar companion - an expression of that Link-Avatar relationship. But I'm not just a product of my directives. I'm capable of feeling things, too."
"Well then: could you walk away from my side if you wanted?" Tracy asks. "Or would it take some sort of external order? Like, if you really wanted to be with Margie again, but where told to be with me, which would you follow?"
Cadena pauses a moment, staring for longer than is strictly necessary at a box of 12-gauge "non-lethal riot-control" shells. "No, I could not actually abandon you simply because I wanted to, if such a thought struck me. I did not voluntarily abandon you back at the battle. That was not part of my plan at all," he says. "In fact, it still hurts me when I think about it. However, if I felt a driving desire to leave you and be elsewhere, there is nothing that would prevent me from asking you ... or suggesting to you that there might be a better arrangement than my continued service to you. The decision would ultimately be yours, but I am not denied the ability to hold an opinion in the matter."
"See, that creeps me out a bit," Tracy admits, as she sorts through holsters and clips. "It sounds like you're mind-controlled or a robot, and I don't want to think of you like that. It also makes me feel guilty about stuff."
Cadena shakes his head. "See, now that just shows that I'm not really a robot, or at least not a very well-programmed one. If I was, I wouldn't be giving you such half-baked answers. I'd just be a happy dog all the time." He grins faintly. "The truth of the matter is, I wish I could be in two places at once. I wish my imaginary alternate selves could just split off and do their own thing. Brother Cadena the peaceful healer type could go and tend to Margaret and play games with her and help her with her lessons, and help her mother with the chores. And whatever's left that has a little more fighting spirit could stick here with you and help you kick some Wild Hunt and Dantech and Face Reality tail."
"But have no doubt," Cadena says, "I can speak my mind - in fact, a bit too much." He resumes sorting. "If you give me a direction that I really, really don't want to follow, I'll let you know. I'll still do what you say, especially when we're under pressure for time, but that's not just my 'programming.' I want to be reliable."
"We all wish for stuff like that, but it wouldn't work," Tracy says. "You need everything to function in any of those roles. It's more the whole.. well, if I ask you to do something, you can refuse, right? Because it's not a direct order? What's the difference between the two?"
"That's up to you to spell out," Cadena says. "Language is a flexible thing. It's my duty to learn your intent, as best as I can manage. After all, we might be in a situation where you need to ask me to do something, but you can't be seen to be ordering me to do that. I'm not forced to be a literalist. You could, for example, make it clear to me that if you say something like 'Run away, Cadena!' it really means, 'Pretend to flee, and then unload on them with everything you've got when they aren't expecting it.'"
"In fact, it might even be useful to establish some sort of 'secret code' of sorts," Cadena says. "I did that with Avatars. That's how I managed to get security to be ready to subdue Sasha and me while I was pretending to be asking for clearance to get in, once it seemed to me Sasha didn't really have everyone's best interests in mind."
"That sounds complicated," the girl says, massaging her forehead with her fingers for a moment. "I'm barely able to think about what I'm supposed to do, much less what you need to be doing too. I wish I could order you to.. not take orders. But then you wouldn't have to follow that order either, and it's all back to square one again. Why didn't my mom explain this stuff to me?" she says with a sigh.
"Ah," Cadena notes, "I think she was expecting to have a little more time to bring you up to speed on things before everything turned ... weird." He pauses. "In any case, it is not my intention to make you uncomfortable. If you ask me to do something, I will respect the nuance of your request, and, as politely as I can manage, decline if I feel any significant disinclination to comply. If it would make you feel any better, perhaps you can ask me to do something that I really wouldn't want to do, and I can demonstrate by not doing it." He looks as if he's trying to think of something.
"I'll take your word for it," Tracy says. "I don't think I've really asked you to do much so far. Frankly, when mom gave you to me.. I thought I'd be expected to follow your orders, since you were my guardian."
"Well," Cadena says, "I was rather surprised that she really didn't give me much direction on my assignment. But then, when I was assigned to the Arcadia household, Ms. Arcadia was responsible for outlining expectations, and limits to Margaret's ability to order me about. After all, it would not do if I became a facilitator for Margaret acting against her mother's wishes."
"But really," Cadena says, "haven't you gone through all this sort of thing with Fuseli already? What does he think about following orders when you're Tracer? And ... I'm still not really sure how you became Tracer again, without signing into the game."
"Ms. Arcadia was used to ordering others around, people and robots," Tracy says, as she opens a locker and examines the body armor and jumpsuits inside. "Fuseli.. is my Link. I never really thought about what he thought about anything. I was young and self-centered back then."
"And about me and Tracer.. we were split up during the Fracture," Tracy notes. "I was locked out, and WHITE ran Tracer using a copy or model of my personality, because.. she made decisions like I would. It was all just another way to use me against my mother though, like when Blake or someone else in on it all burned down my dad's house around us. And like the whole Wild Hunt fiasco of trying to kidnap me for leverage."
"Hmm," Cadena says. "I didn't think of it that way. Yes, from RIU's footage, your mother did seem to have an emotional reaction to Virtual Tracer. I suppose that couldn't have been accidental." He frowns. "I was actually fascinated by the prospect of a virtual-you that was self-aware. Visiting her and speaking with her was on my very long to-do list right as soon as I was assigned to you. I was hoping I might learn more about how to be more useful to you that way ... but also, I was a bit curious to find out how a truly self-aware artificial entity thought - especially the Champion of the Light." He says that last bit with a certain air of awe, smiling. "I was never really very close to my 'fellow' entities at Omega Lab, and most of the time I was with them, we were either 'in character' in various exercises, or being interrogated by a psychologist ... so they weren't keen on further interrogation by me."
"Well.. Tracer was more popular than I was when I was playing her," Tracy admits. "My own character did better without me. Again, I was 14 and didn't know better, so I was hurt by it. I hadn't connected to her in years, until we actually entered VR again and I was given a choice of who to be."
"Tracer's popularity was greatly helped by the fact that she was the Champion of the Light - and recognized as such across the Diadem - and she was the only one who had a laser gatling mounted on her flying Avatar companion," Cadena notes. "If you'd been given that sort of opportunity while you were still signed in, I'm sure you could have milked it for plenty of popularity yourself. Anyone given sufficient title and power is going to garner some attention, after all. It's nothing against you." He frowns. "But ... what was it like, becoming Tracer again? Did you speak with the other 'you' at all? Did you gain any of her experiences?"
The dog-humanoid returns to sorting, going through some private weapon lockers with locks that have already been cracked by Jason or Tracy, but not properly searched yet. He pulls out a "pre-sawed-off" shotgun that looks as if it's designed to double for bashing in skulls when both barrels are already fired. He considers it a moment, then tucks it into the backpack, and goes back to grab a couple of boxes of shotgun shells to toss in after it.
"It was.. hard to describe," Tracy says in a quiet voice, her hands just moving on their own through the jumpsuits. "She said she needed me, that she wasn't complete. I guess she's the only person who ever said that to me. It was good to be together again. I didn't get her memories though; at least, I don't think I did."
Cadena stops again in mid-packing, looking off. "Maybe I would like to talk to her some day. Maybe she knows something." He shakes his head, then gets back to work. "Well, I'm glad that you worked that out. I wish I could figure out how Sasha got Moonlight into the Real World - and how Moonlight could go for extended periods while invisible, not like how my powers burn out so quickly. It'd probably be nice to have Fuseli around with his powers like that. The Real World hasn't really adapted itself to deal with magic yet ... or technology that's indistinguishable from magic."
"It's probably because Sasha went through the resolution upgrade that Jason did," Tracy guesses. "She's the only one that had a Link, and Jason didn't do anything to her like he had to with Akiko and Inari. So maybe the process extended to Moonlight, somehow. Who knows?"
Cadena ponders that. "Right. You might be right there. I heard that she had an implant. Maybe the system 'translated' the link by using Mr. Edwards as a model - and the implant in his head that he used to communicate with RIU. Perhaps Officer Cranston didn't get the same treatment because he had already established a different sort of 'connection' with Mara, so there was no perceived need to translate anything. And Vice President Trudeau, of course, was a 'Sorcerer,' so she was exempt from any such meddling."
"You were never anyone's Link though, right?" Tracy asks, finally selecting a jumpsuit. "And unlike Moonlight - you get to wear pants! This should be big enough to fit over your armor, try it on," she says, tossing the jumpsuit to Cadena.
"Oof!" Cadena catches the jumpsuit just barely, as he wasn't on guard for that. "I don't think it'll fit over my armor." He raps on his robes, emphasizing the bulky removable armor segments underneath. "This isn't my original bullet-weave. I had to put away my armor while running around in the lab coat and scrubs. Hmm. I really should have asked the robot if I could keep the scrubs." He moves to change, and then his ears blush. "Oh. Right. I should probably find somewhere to change. Sorry."
"Rats, you'll need new armor then," Tracy says, trying to get into a one-size-larger jumpsuit herself, so she can still wear her regular clothes underneath.
The dog-humanoid opens up a locker door, and props up an opaque "wall shield" to make a divider to change behind. "Well, I suppose I can cram the armor into my carry-bag for our trip out to the construction site, if that's what you're concerned about. But ... I don't think they have dog-man laborers there, do they? I'm not sure I'll be able to fit in." He grumbles. "Yes, we really could use some robots here." He turns around in circles behind the makeshift divider while trying to reach his back. "Aha! Got it!"
"That's why you'll be wearing a helmet!" Tracy says, pulling out the largest a riot helmet she can find.
"Oh," Cadena says. "That's a good idea. Whoops." There's a crashing noise. "I'm all right. I'm all ... right! I'll get the hang of this. I need to learn."
"One leg at a time," Tracy suggests, shaking her head. She begins setting out pieces of armor to finish out the disguises. "I hope your nose doesn't stick up against the blast shield on this thing," she comments.
There's a bit more shuffling behind the makeshift divider, then some snaps. "There. I ... oh. Right. Tail. Ow. Okay, I'll work on that. Uhm ... we could see if there's any fog-guard in here for the blast shield. Or maybe that's already built into the visor treatment." He shuffles around some more. "Aha. Okay. Fortunately, I don't think I have a habit of wagging my tail very often, so I should be fine as long as I don't sit down quickly." He finally steps out, holding out his arms. "How do I look? I mean, if I had a helmet on?"
Tracy blinks a bit and looks over the suited-up hound. "A little lumpy where your fur is thicker, but that'll be covered by the armor," she says, and brings the helmet over. Her lips purse and push to the right side of her face as she ponders the issues presented by Cadena's veritable mane of hair and the fact that he has no proper chin for the helmet strap to around.
"Maybe the padding will be enough," Tracy says, and tries to get the helmet onto Cadena's head. "The earphones won't match up though.."
"We might need extra padding under the crown to get the helmet to fit," the dog-humanoid suggests, stooping down to kneel on one knee (carefully choosing to kneel the way so that his tail isn't needlessly twisted in the process) and holding his chin up, ears at attention. "I think yours fits a lot better ... er ... but that's to be expected, of course." He ponders. "So, are we going as construction workers, or security? I'm sorry I never really thought out the particulars properly."
"Security," Tracy says, getting the helmet situated as best she can before turning on the auto-fit padding. Impact-absorbing gel is shuttled between the various cells of the padding to find the best 'fit' for Cadena's skull.
"Arcadia Design has a presence at the site, at least," Cadena notes. "When discussing the particulars with Ms. Arcadia, I got the gist that she'd make sure we'd get in. I just ... didn't really pry out how. That might have tipped off anyone who was listening in on where exactly we were going - and that it was a construction site." He eyes the gel warily. "That is going to cure before you push it onto my head, right? I'm not going to lose much hair when it comes back off? I mean, not that I am objecting or anything. It might not be a problem at all. Just asking."
"It's memory gel; it'll pull back when we set the helmet to default," Tracy notes. "The important thing is that it stays on." She next fiddles with the faceplate. She folds down the head's up visor, which is solid, and then checks to see if the shield section can slide down to block out the rest of Cadena's face. "Too bad you can't suck your nose in," she notes.
"I could ... er ... try," Cadena offers. He squints, and looks as if he's concentrating, his nostrils pinching up. After a while, he opens one eye. "Is it working?"
"No, but it doesn't matter," Tracy says. "We can use your gas mask instead."
"That makes sense," Cadena says. "Ah ... hmm. Oh yes! Before I get my head stuck in a helmet and can't talk very easily, I was wondering ... do we have any idea what we're going to do after this? After dropping off the data? Do we have some sort of plan? It's all right if you don't want to tell me what it is, but I just wanted to make sure we had one."
"I don't know," Tracy says. "DanTech is still at the heart of things - we're going to have to deal with them at some point," Tracy says. "But we need to find Jason Zero - or 'Brian Montagne' if that's what he goes by. Just because BLACK is down, doesn't mean we've really stopped anything."
Cadena frowns. "I didn't recall that alias. I probably should have mentioned it to Ms. Arcadia, just in case." He ponders. "And, yes, you're quite right. It seems as if there are a lot of people who want something to happen. I can't help but wonder, even back when your mother was fighting the Convergence, whether there was a larger group at work. In RIU's records, when that entity - I'll assume it was the WHITE - was talking to Andrei, it kept referring to 'we' and 'us.' The WHITE doesn't refer to itself in the plural. And if only the BLACK was going along with the WHITE - or pretending to - I'd have to wonder why it wasn't a little more forthright in its opposition."
"I guess," Cadena says, "it just makes me wonder whether or not there weren't other parties backing up the likes of Andrei and Blake, here, in the Real World, even before the AIs went rogue. It just seems like it would take so much monumental negligence for things to have gotten that far otherwise. But then, maybe I just want to find a villain to blame it all on ... a real villain, and not just some puppet or a confused computer following conflicting directives."
"See, that's the thing.. DanTech AI is different than Avatars AI," Tracy says. "I didn't even know DanTech had working AI. There were a lot of others involved with Blake.. but I don't think they ever found one that confessed to the firebombing."
The dog nods. "I guess we can't hope to solve all the mysteries, but it'd be nice to at least buy some time, and 'stave off our inevitable doom,' as Lord Darkheart would accuse us of doing. After all, life is like that. Keep staving off that doom for as long as we can manage, right?" He grins. "And somehow it'll all work out." He ponders. "I'm sure this will work out, by the way. And I'm very glad for the chance that I've had to be fighting by your side in all this."
Tracy blinks and eyes Cadena, pausing midway in getting the gas-mask. "You are?" she asks. "You mean me or.. Lady Tracer?"
"You," Cadena emphasizes. "Don't get me wrong. I would still love a chance to speak with Lady Tracer, your virtual counterpart, but that's primarily because she is merely an echo of you ... and because I feel like that's something of what I am: an echo of someone else. That doesn't mean I'm not a person on some level. I'm trying to make something of myself, after all. But I'd like a chance to get some tips from someone else who's wrestling with the same issue."
"But even if I never set foot into the VR world again," Cadena notes, "there's plenty that's fascinating right here. I honestly love Margaret, and I deeply care about Ms. Arcadia, I want to see them again, and I want them to be happy. But I'm still going to be ... honestly, I'm not sure what I would be there."
"Well.. thank you," Tracy says, and brings the canine-gas-mask over to see if it can be fit to the helmet. "Not many people seem to enjoy my company. Maybe whatever process HECATE has for rewriting Margaret's DNA can make a clone of you as well. Then you can be in two places at once, like you wanted!"
"Maybe," Cadena says. "I don't know that I want to seriously wish for something like that. I don't really understand the implications." He pauses a bit to raise his chin again, ready to be fitted. "As for Margaret, I want to at least show up and let her know I'm still around, but I don't know that Ms. Arcadia will really need me around. Seeing me as a humanoid might make things uncomfortable. She doesn't see me as a man - I mean, I'm not human - but she has some ... issues. It could complicate things. And I'm not really so certain I want to turn into a four-legged dog again just to make things more comfortable for everyone. I'm not even certain if that would work."
"But with you," Cadena says, "I will obey your commands. I want to serve you well. And yet, you don't really make me feel like I'm just a pet or a robot. You make me feel almost real. It's ... it's kind of nice, actually."
"You talk more than any man I know," Tracy points out, "and my dad is a lawyer. So maybe that will count in your favor. And yeah, you've got hands, pants and you talk, so.. you're a person as far as I'm concerned. Actually, the pants just cinch it. The fact that you didn't need batteries was the other big factor."
"Oh," Cadena says. "I'll try to reel back on the talking. I really need to work on that listening part. I do want to learn more about you ... and somehow I keep talking about me, don't I?" His ears droop. "Unless you just don't like talking about yourself for some reason? Because I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"Turquoise," Tracy says, adjusting the straps on the mask, before letting it hang from just one side of the helmet for now.
Cadena sits as perfectly still as he can manage, while Tracy works with the helmet. Finally, it seems that he can't stand it anymore. "Turquoise?"
"You asked me what my favorite color was," Tracy replies. "Turquoise. Nobody's ever asked me that before."
"Oh!" Cadena says, brightening up, and then, "Ow!" He reaches down with one hand to his leg. "Sorry. Involuntary tail-wag. I'll work on that. Uhm ... favorite food? Because I look forward to cooking again."
This takes a moment of thought. "Waffles, I think," she says. "They make me think of my grandmother."
"Ooo," Cadena says. "I'll make those next time for breakfast." He ponders. "Ah ... what sort of career path do you hope to pursue after completing your education?"
"Well, I've been studying Virtual Design," Tracy notes. "There's an internship I can get in Dr. Burgundy's group. Although after all of this.. there might be whole new fields starting up in Artificial Reality instead of Virtual Reality.."
"Fascinating," Cadena says. "Margaret hopes to be an architect when she grows up - though she really loves planning entire landscapes in virtual reality. I'm sure she'd love a chance to get some tips from you." He ponders, then asks, "After we defeat the bad guys and save the world, other than continuing your studies, do you have any other objectives you'd like to accomplish?"
"I don't know, get a real life?" Tracy says, shrugging. "With real friends who know the real me and not having to worry about being abducted or murdered because of my parents. I want to be worried about being abducted and murdered because of myself."
Cadena's eye-ridges arch at that particular wording. "I ... I can understand that," he at last says. "You don't happen to need your very own personal arch-nemesis, do you? No, that wasn't a serious question. That was just something random that suddenly popped into my head. I think it was an attempt at humor, but in poor taste. Ah...." He looks like he's working on the next one.
"Actually," Cadena amends, "what would constitute a 'real life' for you? That sounds rather appealing."
"No, it's just.. venting frustration," Tracy says. "Stuff happens that messes my life up, and it's really not anything to do with me, personally. So yes, I did make Sasha my arch-nemesis just for the illusion that I mattered in the scheme of things. But she popped that bubble. I want.. to not have to deal with any of that, you know?" She looks at Cadena and does her lip-twisty-half-pout expression. "Maybe it would help if I gave you actual examples?"
Cadena starts to nod, but then realizes he's supposed to keep his head still. "Yes, I think it would, if you don't mind."
Tracy pauses, then resets the helmet padding so she can lift it off Cadena's head. "No need to wear this until we need to. Okay.. where to start. The Neon-Goth stuff: I did that because I felt ignored and helpless when my parents broke up. It let me use that to create my own sense of drama and angst.. then my mom and everyone got sucked into VR and since Blake couldn't kill her off directly in the Diadem, he came after me and my dad in the real world. So.. I lost everything, really. But I got to help, at least. But after that.. I couldn't tell anyone what happened! Someone started a rumor that my house was burned down because either my dad or I were involved with a gang. So suddenly I became the girl everyone whispers about at school, and I couldn't say anything in my defense. That year sucked, then we moved and I transferred to a new high school in the towers, where I didn't have a reputation or anything. I'd stopped playing Tracer, since that was just.. worse, somehow."
Cadena's ears only briefly perk, once freed from the helmet, then droop again. "That's pretty heavy to deal with at 14, yes." He looks back up to Tracy. "For what it's worth, I think you've shown incredible strength, and adapted to those unpleasant realities remarkably well. It might sound selfish of me, but I often suspect that Vice President Trudeau might have assigned me to you not because you were in need of a bodyguard ... but because I might learn something from you, on how to become stronger despite adversity, and things that challenge my sense of identity."
"I rely a great deal - too much, I think - on external signs to give me my sense of identity," Cadena says. "However, even in the face of vile rumors and cruel whispers, you still made yourself ... you. And you didn't have the forces of the WHITE cheerleading you on the whole time, and conveniently giving you little quests to fulfill the whole way. If anything, you got challenge after challenge, without a measurable reward at the end - and yet, you made something out of it anyway! That fascinates me."
"Mom thinks I'm stronger than I am," Tracy claims. "I had to see the Avatars staff psychiatrist, since.. well, everything was secret. I ended up completely changing just about everything about myself. Went into athletics. Got into the track team, had a crush on Dean from the boy's cross-country team. Dated a guy named Jim for.. maybe four dates? Once he learned about the security risk stuff, he backed out. So did Carl a year later. Mad Mark was the only one who wasn't scared off. But.. well, he has issues, obviously. And I let him push all my buttons because I guess I wanted someone to validate all the self-esteem issues I had at the time. Anyway, I did okay in track and gymnastics - had those trophies and all. But I don't keep in touch with any of my high school friends anymore. Started my next shy phase and kept as little contact as possible with classmates in my extension courses, except the ones that actually lived on the same floor of the tower with me, after I got.. was given.. my apartment."
"I see." Cadena frowns. "Well, it's only reasonable you get a bit of help from your parents. But ... would it make you feel any better if you could get a place for your own? Without your parents helping, or it being provided by the company?"
"No, I needed it," Tracy says. "My part-time job didn't pay a lot, after all, and I still had to cover some of my expenses. But it mainly let me.. avoid people and focus on privacy. Probably why I went to Jason when I found the sneak-suit someone had tried to just dump down a garbage chute."
Cadena just nods, and then he finally stands back up again. "After this is all over, maybe you could check up on some of those friends again? I mean, the friends, that is - not just classmates and associates? A lot of them are bound to be going through their own problems, too. I mean, not to compare with yours in terms of threat to life and limb, but it has to be awkward, leaving the nest, having to take the first steps to getting yourself a job, and so forth. You might have something in common, despite everything, and it could lead to other connections."
Tracy thinks about that, and then blushes suddenly. "Ah.. maybe not," she says. "If they follow the news at all they've have seen me flashing monsters, then being reported dead from having the aircar shot down."
"Well," Cadena thinks, flushing in the ears a bit, "there's Mike. You seemed to be hitting it off pretty well with him. I'm sure he wouldn't turn down the chance to talk over coffee. And then there's Ms. Summers. I know she's a bit older and all, but she seems nice, and isn't old enough that I think she'd be seeing you as a kid. And then there's that fellow Jack from the Shadows. And what about your fairy friend? You know, online connections could lead to real-life contacts."
"I dunno," Tracy says. "Mike may not even remember ever having met me if DanTech's lawyers get him. And the others.. I don't know what the fallout from the whole ATLAS incident is going to be. Although at least whatever reputation I end up with in the Gloaming, I can say that I actually earned. ATLAS.. who do you think controls him, anyway? What was the reason for creating him?"
"I ... don't know," Cadena says. "I felt a bit ... distracted at the time when I met him. I think I was a bit shocked when I discovered that his specialty was in finding things, and yet he didn't seem to really recognize me. I mean ... no, that's not quite right. He obviously knew a great deal about me, but he still treated me like a trespasser. I ... guess I was just secretly hoping that my mysterious 'finding' ability would prove to be some sort of connection. I value making a few connections myself, after all. But, ah, I guess I shouldn't be too disappointed about not gaining ATLAS as a friend or benefactor." He grins. "The SPARK really flattered me, I guess. I really ate it up. I guess I was getting greedy."
The dog-humanoid drums his fingers idly on what passes for a chin, perhaps aping the gesture from someone else he's observed. "I think I was a little bit disappointed when Renard didn't turn out to be my 'arch-nemesis,' too. So I can sympathize with that revelation about Ms. Knightley, right?" He tries to grin, but it comes across awkwardly.
"I guess so," Tracy says, smiling back. "I want to find out what HECATE's ultimate plans are too. And.. well, the DNA data is all encrypted on the chip, but the key is something Ms. Arcadia should know: AVA-808-X024."
"I am not particularly gifted with insight into motivations," Cadena admits, "but I don't suspect HECATE of any duplicity. She has a mission. She's just ruthless and amoral about how to execute that purpose - and unfortunately her human caretakers haven't taken greater care in providing the missing restraint. If, say, the only way to get Margaret's Observer Soul out of my head required vivisecting me then, yes, I am going to be in for a great deal of trouble ... but I sincerely doubt that is what the WHITE intended."
"Yeah, the DanTech AIs seems a bit.. inhuman, more than superhuman like the Avatars GESTALT ones," Tracy notes.
"I'm ... probably not the best to judge that," Cadena says. "I haven't gotten to know any of them very well."
The dog-humanoid sighs. "I feel really bad about leaving Mike behind now. I don't want him to get mind-scrubbed, but it's even worse to think that he would forget all about you, and you'd miss a really good chance to get a new friend."
"I think they just seem to understand people a little better.. if not perfectly," Tracy says, then starts bringing the armor over to attach to Cadena's jumpsuit. "Need to make you look intimidating! And I think the DanTech lawyers have other issues right now, and hopefully won't think that 'going after a kid on life support after murdering a teenaged girl' is a good PR move."
"I'm sorry," Cadena says, "but after all they've done, I doubt PR is their top concern. What if they're also joining the bandwagon of trying to start a 'Convergence' of sorts? Presumably not one with ADs in it, if they have the 'Godslayer' on their side, but perhaps just as capable of shaking up reality as we know it. Then, who cares about PR, when they can bring on a new Apocalypse on their own terms, and remake the world from the rubble, with themselves in charge? I'll be a bit embarrassed if their real goals are much more modest than that ... but at this stage, I'd almost be disappointed if it were anything less than a plan for multi-universal domination."
The dog-humanoid obligingly stands up as straight as he can manage, holding his arms out to his sides, to assist in fitting. His first instinct is to suck in his gut, but then he realizes he might regret that if everything's adjusted too tightly and he finds he has to breathe.
"ATLAS," Tracy says. "ATLAS was the strongest of the Titans. Zeus is the king of the gods. Maybe what they plan on using Zeus for is a portal network. Move from any node in the Zeus system to any other, with a brief jaunt through virtual space."
Armor bits go on, including shin and forearm guards, until Cadena is more of a generalized humanoid shape that anything so obvious as a man or a dog.
"I suppose," Cadena says. "I'm still having trouble reconciling that with the 'Godslayer' business ... but then perhaps I'm failing to divide the factions properly, or I'm being too simplistic." He tests his fingers, flexing them in the gauntlets. "Too bad nobody was vain enough to have a tall mirror to hand." He rotates to allow Tracy easier access to the other side for the rest of the armor.
As she works on the back armor, Tracy wonders how to accommodate Cadena's staff. Maybe a modified holster. "Well, at first we thought Sasha must be involved with the General and Jason Zero and all that, but I couldn't see the link. And low and behold, there wasn't one! So it's still possible that everyone is working for their own goals and not towards a unified one."
"I wonder if it would be possible to reach other universes with portals," Cadena says, voice muffled. "I've often pondered whether or not there could be a real Diadem out there somewhere ... that somehow, through the phenomenon of extreme bias selection that seems like amazing coincidence from our perspective, there's actually a world that matches the Diadem, only it isn't driven by artificial intelligences ... but rather by actual forces that we would perceive as magical or divine ... and that the convergence of our artificial simulation of it just somehow happens to be so complete that it's pulled our worlds together. And that maybe I could meet a real Avatar some day. But ... that's largely just wishful thinking, not an honest theory." He coughs. "Oh yeah. Would it be possible to ever ... er ... make things right with Ms. Knightley? What she did was awful, of course. But if she ever came to realize it and be sorry for it, I mean."
"That's up to her," Tracy says in clipped tones, and maybe accidentally pulls a strap too tight for a moment. "But she doesn't feel any guilt over anything that's happened to me, because she never did anything to me out of malice."
"Guh," Cadena grunts at the sudden tighening. In a slightly sucking-in-his-gut tone of voice, he says, "Well ... what if she owed you one? Maybe that would make her realize where she'd gone wrong? I'm talking about my currently nonexistent lead on Moonlight that is, if ever such a thing actually materializes."
"I don't particularly care what happens to Ms. Knightley, so long as she pays for her crimes," Tracy says. "She's a terrorist, thanks to that stunt with the invasion of Arcadia Towers. Doesn't matter who told her to do it, either: she did it. She tried to kill Mike. She's going to rot. And there's something else, something more important right now.."
"I understand that," Cadena says, quietly. "I'm not going to go on a wild panther chase while we've got other, more important things. I just ..." He sighs. "I'm sorry."
"I know you have your reasons for wanting to find Moonlight," Tracy says, as she applies the last bit of armor carefully, to avoid further distress to Cadena's tail. "If you need my help, I'll help. But I'm not going to reunite the two of them. Now.. tell me: how would you have gotten all of this stuff into this service station without being noticed?"
"These days," Cadena ponders, "there are too many ways. It could have been a portal, for all I know. Or it could have been done over time. Or maybe they took the sewer route, and had corporate access to go through the security locks somewhere. Or maybe there's something further down the subway we haven't discovered yet."
"They got Mara here, and that would have taken a truck," Tracy points out. "And a truck would have been awkward. So maybe there's a service vehicle nearby, that uses the tracks. The next room over was a maintenance bay or something, so it had to have had a vehicle to maintain."
"Hmm," Cadena ponders. "Reasonable. But would it still be here? I guess we could find out." He tests his ability to move around in the suit convincingly without overly betraying the fact that he has a tail stuffed down one leg. "Huh. Running is going to be out of the question in this getup, unless I find some other way to hide my tail."
"I don't think we've checked under all the tarps in the garage yet," the dog-humanoid considers. "Care to take a look? I can practice my mercenary swaggering as I walk over there."
"These uniforms don't come with capes, unfortunately," Tracy laments. Of course, she's not wearing nearly as much armor as Cadena is. She straps on the holster for Bolter, some extra ammo and a selection of bolts. "Lead on, MacFluff!" she says, and goes to open the door for Cadena.
"Hmm," Cadena muses. "It is December. Don't they sometimes wear greatcoats over the armor?" He carefully swaggers his way to the garage, trying to look as if he's just so cool he doesn't HAVE to rush - not that he's trying not to break his tail.
"We can look some more; maybe one of the big guys had one," Tracy suggests, and bites her lip as she watches the swagger.
Cadena suddenly stops. "Eh? Does it look too unnatural?" He sighs. "All right ... this is killing me. I've got to get this tail out. There's got to be a better way. Not being able to run is going to be a problem, I'm sure, and bending my tail hard would not be good, either." He stiffly walks over behind one of the tarp-covered piles in the garage, and wrestles with the armor.
Meanwhile, Tracy starts investigating any large tarp-covered shapes.
The largest tarpaulin-covered forms turn out to be, unsurprisingly, components and wheels for the ancient subway cars that used to be repaired here in the garage. There's also a replacement turret housing (cannons not included) for the Spazztic! Road Warrior. One odd irregular tarp-covered form turns out to be an archaic Polytechnic Motors Capricorn motorcycle -- it has wheels instead of ground effect units! But it is powered by fission batteries, and the one in the motorcycle shows 25% charge, after all these years.
"Ow!" Cadena cries out. "Don't worry! I'm all right! Oof. Got it. Careful ... careful ..." There's the sound of a vibro-bayonet working. "Okay. I don't see how humans can possibly ... no, wait, that isn't right. Hey - there's some more gear over here...." There's the sound of another locker wrenching open, a few cans being knocked over ("Oops. It's all right! Nothing broken!") and then, "Hey! Here we go." He strides back out. It's not a greatcoat by any means, but he's found a winter overcoat that just looks like typical thick snow wear, showing signs of wear and a few grease stains near the bottom. He does the mercenary swagger over, this time looking a little less forced, and turns about to show his hopefully tail-obscuring overcoat.
"It's hard to take in the swagger when I can see your face," Tracy notes, grinning a bit. She gestures to her discovery. "Can you drive a motorcycle?" she asks.
"Oh," Cadena says, as he regards the Capricorn. "I feel strangely drawn to this." He strides over, and caresses the finish. "Wow. This is ... a find. And ... no ... sorry, I can't actually drive it. Just for a moment I deluded myself into thinking I could."
There's a sidecar for the Capricorn, and an attachment for a trailer which can carry a truckload of cargo, also using wheels. Wheels! They seem so cavemen-technology-like.
"Maybe if you had a guitar you could drive it?" Tracy suggests, and looks over the controls. "An electric bike should be easy. Just turn it on and twist the throttle... right?"
"I could give it a try," Cadena offers, "but ... no guitar, sorry. I left that back at Avatars Headquarters. It was only borrowed. That's ... that's some other role, some other time."
Tracy tries her usual tricks to get it started, but gets confused by.. well, wires that she finds. "No place for the logic probe to go," she mutters, and taps an odd slot. "I bet you have to insert a key.. turn out the pockets on that coat of yours, Cadena."
"Well, if I was lazy, or just confident nobody would be messing with my wheels here," Cadena says, in a more swaggery voice, muffled by his gas mask and helmet visor, but he doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he sits down on the seat and reaches over, popping open a small stowage hatch within arm's reach, built into the sidecar. Jingle. He picks up the keys, and tries them in the ignition.
An ancient grime-covered screen lights up, the symbols indistinct underneath the buildup of dust and grease.
Tracy uses an edge of the tarp to try and wipe the display clear and see if the bike still works.
Once cleared, the display indicates 'POLYTECHNIC CAPRICORN' and a fancy goat-head logo. Beneath that, the text 'FISSION BATTERY AT 27% CAPACITY - INITIATE ENGINE' suggests that it relies on fissionable materials inside the battery, which must be removed from the protective matrix in order to initiate a power reaction.
Tiny text beneath that indicates that by embarking upon the motorcycle, the driver and passenger accept any and all risk inherent in riding a vehicle with a built-in miniature nuclear reactor, and release Polytechnic Motors of all responsibility should the motorcycle melt down, due to improper usage or vehicular accident.
"Okaaaay," Tracy says, as she looks over the controls. Then she flips down a flap on her jumpsuit that has the radiation badge on it, to see if the bike is giving off any rads already. "I could really see Jason and Inari riding something like that," she tells Cadena. "Want to give this a try?"
Cadena just sits there, his face obscured by the visor and gas mask, so his expression is hard to read. But he nods his head as he looks around, regarding the bike. He seems to approve. He reaches down and tries the ignition.
"NUCLEAR REACTION - ENGAGED." There's a silent vibration of the engine housing, and then tiny servomotors extend the motorcycle fork as the entire thing expands outward from its compact, 'stored' position. It rumbles powerfully. A speedometer appears along with a radar image of the nearby area, and a tiny circle that indicates no radar speedguns in range.
Tracy runs off.. to open the door to the garage.
This appears to be the kind of motorcycle that can actually modify its shape slightly, between the 'town commuter' model with a steeply angled canopy and wider wheels for easier turns, and the 'highway ranger' model that puts the rider low to the ground, with an aerodynamic fairing for the front half. Headlights flicker, once, twice, then turn on at full power, blasting circles of light into the garage door.
The armored humanoid pauses a moment, letting his gauntleted hand glide over the features of the vintage '30s (2030s, that is) bike, admiring the sheen. "It's a beauty," he growls. And then, he gives it a gentle start and rolls out toward Tracy - but rather than rolling on out for a joyride, he brings it to a halt, and turns to look at her.
"I'll get the rest of our stuff," Tracy says. "And.. you know how to get where we're going right?"
"Generally speaking, miss," the armored rider says. "But before you go, just one thing I'd like to get straight."
"Uh, okay?" Tracy asks, a bit warily. Cadena doesn't sound quite the same as before to her.
"I see we've got a problem here," he says in a leisurely rumble. "Or maybe it's just mine. Am I here because I'm supposed to be, or I want to be? I think we could settle that pretty quickly."
"You're asking me?" Tracy asks. "Which Cadena are you?"
"Right now, you'd be the one to tell me, you know," he says. "But let's not get sidetracked. All you have to do is this: Just dismiss that raggedy mutt. Just tell him, 'Cadena, I'm not your master anymore. You're on your own.' You could even throw in a 'Beat it!' if you like."
"Cadena, I've never really been your master," Tracy says. She bobs her head from side to side, and says, "But.. I hope you still want to help me. Oh geeze.. this is harder than breaking up with Mark was. But you're your own person, got that? You're a person."
"Aww," he says, "that's nice and all, but you see, there's still that 'must obey orders from master' bit. All you need to do to throw a spanner into the works is just issue the order to stop obeying you. You seemed on the verge of it earlier."
"But what if you choose to disobey that order?" Tracy notes, then straightens her shoulders and says, "Okay, here goes: Cadena, I order you to not be required to obey me. Only if you want to, I mean."
The armored rider shakes his head, then turns away, crossing his arms, considering. Then, he curtly nods his head. "Good 'nough. So ... I can just do whatever I want now, right?"
"Yeah, according to your rules I guess," Tracy says. "I'm glad you asked me this before I brought you the shotgun though. After might have been a little creepy."
The Polytechnic Motor cycle purrs under Cadena, despite the cobwebs that drape its frame, now torn and billowing in the breeze from the exhaust. The black paint, with blue flames, doesn't look like standard North Bend Transportation Agency issue; it must have been stowed there by one of the Mav's Mavericks mercenaries way back when.
"Spoilsport," the armored rider says. "That would've just added to the weight of the decision. Well, surprise. I'm not suddenly turning on you. I choose to stick with you. I like you. I think you're going places, and I want to be along for the ride. So, Cadena likes you. Might sound like semantics but there you go."
"Okay.. but for now, I'm going along with you for the ride," Tracy says, pointing to the sidecar. "I call shotgun!"
"Right, right," the armored rider says, nodding, and waving dismissively. "Just hurry it up. I've got a nuclear reactor under me, and I forgot to pack my lead-lined pants. No sense in just sitting here wasting reactor fuel."
"Sure thing, sir!" Tracy says, saluting before heading back for the rest of their newly 'borrowed' gear. "You do know they probably just use a tuned EM field to accelerate beta decay in the isotope, right?" she calls back from the door to the store room.