Nono, Hoist In Her Own Petard would be accurate. See Sophia is also known as the parahuman cape Shadow Stalker! She can go intangible to get through things like walls and people. Soooooooooooooo, by some measure...
She can jump into her own petard that will take down the castle walls of her own conspiracy to defeat Taylor!
It's definitely a rare take. It's the "Autistic Armsmaster" that is popular in fanon, but this is the first time I've seen one where he gets clearly excited about his interests.
Highlighters in different colors to show spies I'm certain of by allegiance, possible spies, non-spies that are actively detrimental to the PRT or Protectorate, and an underline for merely useless employees.
Wait, so Taylor used a color printer at some point to print out some sort of list or spreadsheet? A printer in the office from the context? Did she include any references to her findings besides the color coding? The lack of a description of the office is presenting a problem here - if the description at some point included information about the office and its printer then this would be clearer. There is a general lack of descriptions of the surroundings in this story. Taylor just entered into an extremely secure building through various checkpoints - that should be very new and surprising to her. The sensations she got from the systems in the building should also be very surprising. None of that is mentioned - the story jumps over that completely.
Wait, so Taylor used a color printer at some point to print out some sort of list or spreadsheet? A printer in the office from the context? Did she include any references to her findings besides the color coding? The lack of a description of the office is presenting a problem here - if the description at some point included information about the office and its printer then this would be clearer. There is a general lack of descriptions of the surroundings in this story. Taylor just entered into an extremely secure building through various checkpoints - that should be very new and surprising to her. The sensations she got from the systems in the building should also be very surprising. None of that is mentioned - the story jumps over that completely.
Armsmaster printed the list, and she literally highlighted it and underlined it. Yes, those tools are still used by those in college, various professions, and most importantly governments.
Armsmaster printed the list, and she literally highlighted it and underlined it. Yes, those tools are still used by those in college, various professions, and most importantly governments.
Robbing a bank digitally isn't victimless. FDIC insurance doesn't really work like most people think that it does. That only kicks in in the event of a bank failure, not robbery. That's handled by a different type of insurance which damages the bank and thus the employees.
Robbing a bank digitally isn't victimless. FDIC insurance doesn't really work like most people think that it does. That only kicks in in the event of a bank failure, not robbery. That's handled by a different type of insurance which damages the bank and thus the employees.
Banks aren't people. And what damages the employees in this case is the legal system which allows them to be made vulnerable for the good of corporations.
She should next go on PHO and reveal that MedHall is a front for the E88. She can reason that it was legal to get this information by tracking E88 communication lines directly to MedHall. Also, even though the E88 are villains, they can technically be classified as terrorists since they are an offshoot of the German terrorist cape organization in Europe and because their ideology goes directly against the values of American society and the natural rights of all people, genders, ethnicities, and races.
It's illegal? MedHall clear global company. All information, what she find will about subs and companions.
Only Cerberus write - we are terrorist, this our ships, organisations, weapons(ME). In real another conception.
"hoist by her own petard". A "petard" was a primitive explosive charge meant to take down castle walls and were notoriously unstable and likely to kill the user if used improperly, "hoisting" them into the air when they explode prematurely.
Oh, it's even better than that. From what I've read, it wasn't faulty explosives so much as it was the engineer having bad math and cutting the fuse too short. Thus why "hoist by your own petard" has come to mean destroyed by one's own actions/ folly.
The double POV shift while staying in first person is jarring and brings me out of the moment. I have to pause and figure out who's talking. I'd recommend using third person for POVs from someone who isn't Taylor, keeping a chapter in one POV, or including an indicator of who's view it is when you switch.
I understand that first person is usually easier to write for a lot of people, but switching between characters and staying in first person generally ends up confusing and causes me to have to reread sections once I figure out who's POV it is. Switching to third person is a clear indication that we're switching to seeing stuff from some else's view and much cleaner imo.
Apologies about the undetectable POV shifts, I forgot that it's important to make that obvious. I have now decided to start all scenes with the name of the character whose brain we are inhabiting, italicized. I hope that will make things less confusing, but if y'all prefer something else, let me know.
Fact the first: The Library of Congress has a pretty solid database. Digital files of everything they have, a catalog of it all, and enough space to hide… well, pretty much anything.
Fact the second: I need somewhere to keep any evidence Sudo decides to display to the world. Somewhere with good uptime, somewhere with lots of space, maybe even somewhere with preexisting database software.
Fact the third: The government has the twin virtuous vices of needing to look good and needing to do a great many things, which means it is likely to have the largest collection of dirty little secrets of any organization.
Fact the fourth: I like irony.
I'm sure the direction of my thoughts is clearly visible by now, and were it not, merely looking over my shoulder at what I'm doing on our clunky old PC would suffice to make it clear.
'Hey, Taylor, what website is that?'
'Oh, it's just the Library of Congress. I'm hacking into it to partition a secret part of their servers to house illegally gained evidence of scandal, which I will use to become a parahuman investigative reporter the likes of which the world has never seen. I'll do my math homework later.'
'Now, Taylor, you know you need to get your homework done before any internet time. Do it first, and you can hack the government afterward.'
Is most emphatically not how that conversation would go. Which is why I've got my precalculus book open next to me, my notebook on the other side, and a few problems half-done. It's also why I'm glad that our (metaphorically) rusted old PC is facing away from the door, so that I have my back to the wall sitting at the thick oak desk.
Mom's oak desk. Her pride and joy, though not nearly as much as I was, its inlay and engraving must have cost a fortune. I don't know where she got it, but it's an old style. Definitely antique, the top shows tiny signs of repair work done to fix scuffs, and the drawers are constructed the old way – no metal rails, just precision woodwork. The museum would probably want it, I'd guess. But Mom would never sell it, never give it up. She'd sit here on the PC (which wasn't old then) or her Q2010 laptop, later, and type in the afternoon sun. I'd sit on the corner, or on her lap, whichever was warmer, and I'd ask all kinds of little questions about her work. My purpose, of course, was to get her to pay attention to me instead of that Fujitsu she was so proud of, and it always worked. She'd answer every single question, even the ones where the answer was 'I don't know', and she'd never hold back. I was just a kid, then, but she'd never dumb it down. Not for me.
And then I'd get bored, since there's only so long an eleven-year-old can sit on a hardwood desk in the warm sun listening to detailed literary criticism or feminist theory, and I'd go find Dad and bother him until he told me all about his day at the Union, and who he fought for, and I'd keep pressing him until he came out with a story which made me laugh.
It never took long.
…getting lost in thought does not actually make it easier to hack the Library of Congress.
Fortunately, all I'm doing is making a secret partition of their database that I can link to and they can't delete. Easy stuff, if you've got root access, and I always have root access. This is the last thing I need, before I can become the vigilante investigative journalist that – apparently – I was always destined to be.
…there's an idea. Not a whole lot of people read PHO. Well, actually, kind of a lot of people do. But not everyone – it's mainly the young and hip. Lots of adults, especially the elderly, watch TV or read the papers for their news. If I want to reach everyone, and I do, I probably should contact some papers and stations and arrange to leak it to them before I publish. I reach for the dust-covered black plastic phone sitting in its cradle on the right side of the desk. I flinch.
'so that was impromptu office politics 101 with Professor Thompson today, why don't you tell me about what you and Emma did this mor-' and then an awful crunch, and then nothing, and then the phone had fallen from my hand and hit the floor on it's coiled wire and when had it fallen? I didn't notice.
I withdraw my shaking hand, place it back on the keyboard. I focus on the terrible contrast between my skin and the awful shade of tan until I can see my fingers clearly again. I taste salt, wipe my face.
Maybe it would be best to contact them over the internet. Yeah. Phone lines can be traced, that's why I can't call.
Maybe there's some email server I can send untraceable emails from regularly? I look it up. Shock and surprise, Dragon maintains an email server for anonymous parahumans. I won't even be breaking any laws if I use it, but I bet Dragon can still trace the access points.
I root access into it, and start sending nicely worded emails to local news agencies in the Boston area, as well as even more nicely written letters to the New York Times and other big-name papers and shows. Something along the lines of
'Dear editor of this paper,
Nice to meet you, I'm Sudo. I investigate corruption, I pull no punches, I am a parahuman and the ghost in the machine. You can find me on PHO, I'll be posting whatever I find there. If you employ me as a freelancer, though, I'll give it to you two hours in advance of that post. I obviously can't guarantee that no scandal will ever involve you, but if they do I recommend you publish it extra hard, since I'll be publicizing it no matter what you do. Anyhow, if advance notice and detailed evidence of government, corporate, and criminal scandals interest you, email me back at this email, sudo@paranonymous.dgn. I won't charge much, just 10k for anything deserving a Pulitzer, 5k for anything big, and 2k for anything small. If you don't publish it, you don't need to pay me. Sound good?
Hoping for a productive relationship,
Sudo'
But much more polite, of course.
When I'm done, I check my PHO messages, and I'm unsurprised to find one from Dragon. She seemed annoyed in the thread of my introductory post, and I expected a complaint. Instead, I get some odd rambling:
Dragon: Have you ever heard anything by the singer Canary? Personally, I've listened to everything she wrote, at least before she was arrested last year. Supposedly something about assault with a parahuman power, although if I knew the details of such a case I would certainly be prohibited by law from disclosing them. I'm only suggesting you look into the singer Canary.
Dragon: On a completely unrelated note, did you know that canary birds used to be taken underground in cages? Miners would sacrifice them so they could feel safe from mine gasses. Personally, I feel that putting a canary in a birdcage and carrying it underground would be a miscarriage, if you know what I mean. Good pun, yes?
Dragon: Also, while I don't entirely approve of you hacking PHO like that, I must say I do like your style. And while I support the hard work the government does to protect the people of this fine country, I can (in an entirely abstract sense, as I would not legally be able to comment on any classified information) certainly say that it has its share of closeted skeletons that ought to be aired out.
Dragon: Thank you for listening to my music recommendations.
Okay, weird. Dragon's the best tinker in the world, and certainly a competent individual. Why is she sending me harebrained PMs about Canary and birdcages and miscarriage and oh. I feel stupid now.
Very witty, Dragon. Very witty indeed.
Sudo: I understood your pun completely. I think it's a very good joke – I like reading all sorts of literature, and I appreciate the deeper meaning behind your writing. Thank you for the recommendation.
I begin to look into Canary's case by making an uninvited entry into the PRT secure systems. It's not hard, when all you need to do is find the login page, and then you're done. I pull up her file (every parahuman has one, and some have multiple – like me, probably, by now). I also pull up every bit of information the DOJ has on her case, and I don't like what I find.
First of all, her power testing, mandatory for incarcerated unknown parahumans.
It shows she has minimal odd physiology (feathers in her hair, coronas pollentia and gemma) but nothing else. There's an automated note that sometimes odd physiology comes with a brute rating. None of that justifies the Brute 7 rated restraints that she has been made to wear without pause almost since her arrest last year. Brute 7 restraints have a schematic available in the PRT's database. They're basically a block of solid tinkertech metal weighing 80 pounds and covering the entirety of both arms as well as binding them to the waist and restricting the motion of the knees. They're wild overkill, since no power testing has shown any brute rating whatsoever, and to my mind they constitute cruel and unusual punishment. There's even a note in the same file as the schematic warning against wearing them for more than a 48-hour period, not to mention several complaints from defense lawyers that the restraints unfairly prejudice the jury against the defendant.
The remainder of the power testing revealed her actual power in perfect clarity: her singing is both supernaturally good and renders listeners extremely suggestible after an extended period of exposure. That suggestibility was found to last up to one hour at the extreme end. It's also not just suggestibility to her: anyone can give the listener commands, and they'll obey them just the same. So, reading the victim's statement, I have to wonder: how did he get past the security guards on the way to her private changing room? He wasn't cleared, and they had been specifically instructed to keep him out two concerts ago – it was in the security company's files. In response to this finding of the power-testing team, she'd been made to wear an anti-master gag, which prevented her entirely from the use of her voice, and had the same complaints from defense lawyers that they make the defendant look like a serial killer – I mean, 'unfairly prejudice the jury'.
What is completely inexcusable was the lack of removal of the gag at any point in her months-long incarceration. Not even to speak with her lawyer, not even to tell her side of the story, not even to request a lawyer.
There, in the case files, is the victim's statement. There is the officer-in-charge's report, and there below it is the forensic reconstruction written by his team. In a separate file is a detailed description of every item of physical evidence, from the victim's bloody kitchen knife to his detached dong. And yet nowhere is the suspect's statement, only a brief note that she'd not given a verbal statement, but had signed the OIC's report of events.
Which would not be the most suspicious thing, except that that note had been written prior to her lawyer arriving to take her case. Her lawyer, by the way, was not only a public defender with an awful record and far too many cases for her time, but was also the OIC's cousin. Fancy that.
I dig into their family, and find that the OIC and public defender were both from Madison, and had lost their shared grandparents and both sets of parents to the Simurgh. Since they worked elsewhere, they now appear to be the only family each other has. Their bereavement is a direct result of an attack by a feathered monster that appears as a woman and masters large groups of people to commit heinous acts of violence by means of what some describe as a scream, and others a song.
Where I come from, that sounds like motive.
I dig through ancient interrogation room recordings (which really should have been with the case files, according to the PRT's 'How To Document an Investigation' guide, but were instead quietly left in the local server) and find some seriously incriminating evidence. The session in which Canary signed the document was actively painful to watch.
The OIC was alone with her in the room, and placed the document before her, facing him. He told her that it was the true version of events, as far as his investigation could determine, and (since she was restrained by anti-Master and -Brute tinkertech) told her that tapping her foot would be taken to count as a signature. He then proceeded to instruct her to sign, and when she shook her head and tapped out 'l-a-w-y-e-r' in morse code, clearly took notice.
"Lawyer? Are you asking for a lawyer?" She nodded her head vigorously. "Well, monster, you'll get your lawyer when you sign. Till then, no lawyer." He got up in her face. "You hear me?! Sign!" She stayed stock still for over thirty minutes as he ranted at her, until her foot moved – more a twitch than a tap, but maybe still intentional – and he sat back, apparently satisfied, with an Emma smile on his face. The one she gets when she's made me shrink back or cry, when she's really ripped at my wounds.
I'm going to get her free, and I'm going to put this guy in jail so hard he'll have window-bar imprints on his ass when he's sixty. Fuck you, Lt. Ernest Linkletter.
As if that wasn't enough, the public defender (Sasha Linkletter) had only had two closed door meetings with her client, which came to ten minutes. Total. And the mask and manacles still hadn't been removed.
By now, the trial is almost complete, and I find emails between Lt. Linkletter's second account and Judge Regan, asking the judge to sentence Canary to the birdcage despite the three-strikes rule in return for forgiveness of poker debts.
Disgusting. Other emails from Lt. Linkletter include emails to various news agencies leaking either carefully curated or entirely false information about the trial to various news agencies (explaining the incredibly bad press she's gotten) and an email to the DA on the case about scheduling 'another lucrative game of golf'.
With the jury currently in deliberation, I have very little time before it's too late for Canary. This is the kangarooiest of courts, and I have to save her from these supposed 'authorities' refusing to hear or believe her, instead ruining her entire life.
They are our protectors, yet they assume the worst of us. They are our peacekeepers, yet they ignore our pleas. They are the judge accepting bribes, the police officer intimidating witnesses, the beat cop shooting an unarmed man, the politician crossing fingers as he talks. The principal of a high school accusing the downtrodden girl of troublemaking.
I will show the world their lies.
I save all of the evidence into one file tree in my hidden Library of Congress evidence storage, write out a guide to it and a summary of my conclusions in the same place, and send a link to every news agency who'd responded to me in the four hours since I'd sent out the introductions. I also sent it to the New York Times, although they hadn't responded yet, since it's the New York Times. This is Pulitzer quality, I told them, and waited for the fireworks. At the same time, I also entered the DOJ and PRT central email servers to place a sender-free email with the same link and a warning that it was about to be public (so they should start arresting before people start fleeing justice) at the top of the inboxes of Chief Director Costa-Brown and AG Holder.
With any luck, at least one of those news networks will pick it up and drop it on the public. With even more luck, those responsible for this fiasco will already be in custody by the time that happens, although I'm not holding my breath. Speaking of, the air smells wonderful, and I haven't eaten since breakfast at six, and it's two in the afternoon.
I'm not that strong, not this soon after- anyways. So it takes me longer than is strictly ideal to roll my way into the kitchen. On the other hand, it only builds the suspense, so finding Dad frying onions and making omelets came as a welcome surprise.
When life gives you eggs, huh?
"Hi, Dad."
"Hey, kid. I'm making lunch. How many omelets d'you think you can fit inside that scrawny stomach of yours?"
Hey, rude, you know it's not scrawny, not with that mini-potbelly Emma loves to remind me about. Except – wait. I haven't had that since the- anyway. It's totally flat these days, maybe a little concave, and I can just barely feel what little abdominal muscles I have just under the skin.
…I wonder if I'll stay a non-lumpy stick forever, or will I go back to being a frog?
"Probably only two, but with plenty of mushrooms in them, I hope!"
And with that, he turns back to the stovetop, pan on one of the two working burners. It's odd, what's been between us. He talks to me, and I to him, but… it's still limited. It's not that I wouldn't tell him about important things anymore, but…
We only have two ways of talking, these days. We can do small talk – how many omelets would you like, think you can stand for two minutes today, stuff like that. Or we can do big talk, strategy talk: how to join the Wards, how to stay secret in the meantime, finding a way to fix my schooling. I told him about the bullying, finally – I was so helpless, and I needed to convince him to fight for me – but when did I start needing to convince him that I was worth a fight?
When did he start needing to be pushed to take care of me?
I know when.
But what I'd never do, what I can't do, is spill my guts to him. He can't know how I feel, about the burning rage in my heart where a tiny metaphorical effigy of Principal Blackwell burns. About joining the Wards, spending more time among teenagers that hate me. About what it actually means to be a Hero. About Sudo. I can trust him with my back, if I show it to him in detail. But I can't trust him with my heart, to hear what's wrong and listen and trust me anyway – I just can't.
Is that wrong?
I don't know.
Maybe, though – if instead of telling him it's about me, if I can be asking about him instead – maybe I can try to talk about what's hard. And these omelets smell amazing; onion, egg, mushroom, they all have their own smell. A hint of a well-used spice mix, which is almost empty but hasn't been used in over a year. All those scents mingle from the pan, filling the room with something new: rather than the usual mildew smell from the water stain on the cupboard above the range, the kitchen smells like… home.
"Dad, have you ever seen someone get completely abandoned by the people who were supposed to protect them?"
He freezes, turns around with a sad – no, mournful – look on his face. Wait, why? What does he think I'm talking about?
"I mean, as the head of the DWU. Did you ever wind up helping someone like that?"
His shoulders come back down – when did he raise them – and his face gets an odd expression – shame? No, relief. "Yeah, little owl. That's what the DWU does. When our people get" and I can tell he is not saying 'screwed over' "unfavorably treated by their employers, we come in. We give them other options, and the support they need to negotiate properly or find something new. We've got resources, and we've got more negotiating power than any one of us. A DWU member doesn't say 'pay me right or I quit', he says 'pay me right or we all quit'. 'Cause we've got each other's backs."
Yeah, but what if you're like Ms. McAbee? What if nobody knows, if your employer can shut you up? I give voice to the question: "What if you can't find out, if the worker doesn't or can't say anything? What if the bad stuff's kept secret?"
"Well, that's when it gets hard. But we can't let that pass – if employers can get away with that, then we can't trust 'em. So we've got to keep them on the straight and narrow, and mostly we do that by catching them when they hide things and slapping them all the harder for it. That extra pain they get – it's not about them being especially bad to the workers, though they usually are. It's to impose costs."
Wait, it's not about getting them punished for being greedy bastards? "What do you mean, impose costs?"
"Remember this, kiddo: the only way you ever get a big group of people to stop doing something is to make it a bad bargain. You can raise hell about immorality, you can talk their ears off, but at the end of the day, they do things if it's good for them, and don't if it ain't. So we impose costs when we catch them hiding things, and pretty soon any scummy manager thinking about keeping his employees quiet about an OSHA violation or a late paycheck gets to weighing his odds, and decides it isn't worth the hell he'll catch."
"I… think I get it. Someone's got to find out when the bad apples try things, and make it public, so that all the good folks can wield that collective power?"
"Right. Now eat your omelet. You need more than just skin and bones, or don't they teach you anything in biology?"
What, bio? The most non-science science ever invented? Where the teacher blathers on about herd dynamics and leaving weaklings behind for the lions, but ignores it happening right in front of her?
"No, actually, but I read the textbook."
He laughs (he laughs!), and I take a bite of the admittedly heavenly omelet.
We continue chatting. It's only small talk and a bit of school-switching planning, but it feels warm. Like a sunbeam on the couch.
It's crucially important, when starting a project, to establish estimates for how long that project will take. In CS they have a running joke about project estimates: to figure out how long a project will take, make your best guess, then double it and go up a unit. I heard that one on StackOverflow at some point. So it's important to do better than a quick guess. Always break your project up into parts, estimate their sizes, assign them each a time estimate of their own, then add a fudge factor and task-switching buffers.
Unfortunately, when it comes to my 'Post on PHO about Canary' project, I'd just gone with my best guess: an hour. So of course, to do it properly, I'd need about two days. Past Taylor is always being the thorn in the behind of Present Taylor. Ugh.
After an hour of lunch and talking, though, I only have one hour left before my 'two hours post distribution' deadline. Nothing for it, then; don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. First things first, check my email, and… yep! That's an angry email each from CD Costa-Brown and AG Holder, and several emails ranging from incredulous to thankful from the news agencies who'd written back. A couple more newsies have responded to my first email, so I drop them the link and explanation, then pop open a text editor and begin to write.
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♦ Topic: Canary Birdcaged by Kangaroo Court
In: Boards ► Sudo ► Sudo's News and Who's Whos
Sudo (Original Poster) (The Guy in the Know) (Verified Cape) (Not a tinker)
Posted On Jan 23rd 2011:
Hello, Internet!
I'm here to tell you about a grave miscarriage of justice in our very own beloved United States. Before I do, though, I guess I should tell you why I do what I do. I'll be sure to put out more philosophy posts, op-eds, theory tabloids, whatever you want to call them. I'll be putting them over on Boards ► Sudo ► Sudo's Opinions and Ideas, though, and mostly keep this area for my whistleblowing threads.
Oh right, why I do this. I am sure my detractors will start in on me with accusations like "You must hate cops" or "Real heroes work with the PRT, not against it" or other absolutist statements like that. They would be missing my point if they did. I do not espouse such absolutist philosophies. For all that I am a zealot and an extremist, I remind you: 'the question is not whether we will be extremist, but what kind of extremists we will be'. I fight not only for the rights of those crushed under oppression but for the smooth functioning of the American system.
We the people are raucous and disorganized, in need of governance. It is for this purpose that we set a few of our own above the rest, tasked with playing a callous game of chess with our lives and freedom. It is necessary to have a callous and immoral leadership, for all that the leaders accept damnation by leading well. They are the goat we send to Azazel. We need them.
I do not just refer to politicians by this argument, but all those we charge with the power of enforcement. Police officers and soldiers are cursed to carry guns and authority in the full knowledge that they must use them to enforce fairness and legality, despite the distaste of use of a gun or authority over another human.
The trouble is that a gun can be misused as easily as it is used, and yet removing all guns or all authority from those we set above us defeats their purpose. Instead, we must ensure they are careful in their use. We train police officers to think before firing, we train judges to consider the specifics before resorting to pure precedent, and so on.
That is insufficient. Any weapon will be used too freely if there is no cost for its misuse. And here my role appears: when a heinous abuse of the public trust occurs, I show it to my fellow members of the public, so that we may rise up and punish those unworthy to govern us. I don't do this because I hate those who abuse their power over the weak, although I do, but because I wish to lessen the severity and frequency of that abuse. I won't catch every quiet criminal, but I hope I can catch enough that others consider me as a potential consequence of their actions, and reconsider those actions as unwise.
This brings us to today's topic: Bad Canary.
She is a singer, a pop star. Many of you have listened to her music, have purchased her albums. Some may have seen her in concert, even. And yet in the past year, she has been arrested for malicious use of a parahuman power, and the media has twisted around to curse her and make her repulsive in your eyes. Why? I bring you the truth of the matter.
On September 3rd, 2010, Bad Canary AKA Paige McAbee was arrested by the PRT in connection with the mutilation and sexual assault of her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Henry Sera. Mr. Sera had (look away, children) cut off his own penis with his kitchen knife and inserted it repeatedly into his rectum, before calling the police and collapsing unconscious from blood loss. Upon recovery, he testified that, while under the influence of her power, Ms. McAbee told him to "go fuck yourself", which he was mastered into doing as a result. This would constitute sexual assault with a parahuman ability, IF it had been true.
Mr. Sera had lied.
Briefly, some background: Ms. McAbee separated from Mr. Sera due to his physical abuse and gaslighting during their relationship in March. He began harassing her in public and following her on tours. In June, she received a restraining order against him. In July, he was banned from any backstage areas of venues where she performed, and photographs were distributed of his face to the security company Ms. McAbee's agent had hired. If he attempted entry into the backstage area where the alleged assault took place, he would have been stopped – and indeed, both the security company and Mr. Sera's own testimony state that he was told to leave immediately but forced his way past the guards.
Why is this important?
Bad Canary underwent PRT power testing during her incarceration, which proved that her singing and speech do not control people. First, it is only her singing, and second, it only renders people vulnerable to control. Someone listening to her song becomes completely suggestible and obeys all outside instruction, from anyone. Someone listening to a recording thereof may become slightly more suggestible, but this is uncertain from the data.
So how, I ask you, did Mr. Sera manage to avoid leaving immediately when instructed to, if he was indeed under the effects of her powers? And since he clearly was not at the time when he confronted the security guards, and security recordings show that she did not sing at all (or indeed open her mouth) after the concert until he entered her changing room, how would he have become under its influence before confronting her?
No, a sane reading of the facts clearly indicates that when she told him to "go fuck yourself", he merely saw an opportunity to use the law against her by pretending she had mastered him into self-mutilation. In reality, he is a psychopath and a perjurer, and she is innocent.
So why is she about to be sentenced to the birdcage?
Well, the officer in charge of her case had recently lost his entire family to the Madison attack, with the exception of his cousin, who worked as a public defender in the same city as he did. Lt. Ernest Linkletter and Sasha Linkletter, LLD, were and are in great pain from their loss, and understandably prejudiced against anything resembling the cause of that destruction. Ms. McAbee, a woman with feathers and a voice that masters people, more than fit the bill.
This does not excuse their actions.
Lt. Linkletter extorted her confession, deliberately enforced cruel and unusual punishment during her incarceration, bribed Judge Regan to sentence her to the Birdcage despite the three strikes rule, had an unprofessionally close relationship with the DA, and arranged for his cousin to be Ms. McAbee's lawyer. He made it impossible for her to move or speak during her time in jail, and indeed to communicate with her biased lawyer or request a different lawyer. He released biased information to the media, and otherwise kept the investigation and trial entirely behind closed doors, in order to influence the public against her. He also hid evidence of those crimes.
In short, he constructed a kangaroo court with the express goal of throwing Ms. McAbee into the Birdcage to satisfy his vendetta against the Simurgh.
The good citizens of the United States, likewise angered by her disturbing resemblance and generally disturbed by Master powers, cheered rather than investigate or protest.
First, now that the truth has come to light (and I have attached proof [here]), we must unite in her defense and demand her freedom.
Second, I urge you all to think long and hard about the unconscious biases you hold. Master powers are scary and disturbing, yes, but remember that no cape chooses their powers. Often, they bear an uncanny resemblance to a character trait of the empowered individual, but usually in a monkey's paw kind of way. For instance, I might imagine that Paige merely loved to sing, so her powers gave her the ability to sing perfectly – so magically perfectly, in fact, that it became a problem.
The person and the power are different, and the former has no control over the latter's type. Do not blame them for their power: it doesn't matter what you have, it matters what you do with it.
In short, everyone: a travesty of justice occurred and must be corrected. A bad man framed a good woman, and a bad employee of a good system corrupted others to drag her to hell. The proof (or rather, a secure copy of it) can again be found at [this link]. Consider not only what you can do to prevent this in the future, but what your ready acceptance of the seeming truth says about you.
Thank you for reading, although I know that this writing is rushed and subpar. Hopefully the good folks over at the news agencies I told about this two hours ago have done a much better job.
(Showing page 2 of 6)
►Aloha
Replied On Jan 23rd 2011:
Holy hell. This is a government conspiracy of the highest order.
►Sudo (Original Poster) (The Guy in the Know) (Verified Cape) (Not a tinker)
Replied On Jan 23rd 2011:
Hah! No, it isn't. Trust me, you'll see worse in the coming months. Just you wait.
►Brilliger (Moderator: Protectorate Main)
Replied On Jan 23rd 2011:
Sudo, please do not announce your intention to commit further crimes against the United States Government. The theft and disbursal of confidential information from government computers is a federal offense.
►Sudo (Original Poster) (The Guy in the Know) (Verified Cape) (Not a tinker)
Replied On Jan 23rd 2011:
Yeah, under the CFAA. I'm well aware. I intend to commit all sorts of crimes: sanitizing the infected from the halls of power typically involves criminal activity, as while in the halls of power the infected are not lazy. If I have to work outside the law to preserve the integrity of the law, that is just what a Hero has to do sometimes.
Know what else is illegal? Marching in protest in Birmingham in contempt of a court order. Tell me it was wrong to do it anyway.
►Mr. Fabuu
Replied On Jan 23rd 2011:
Gotta admit, that was a fairly solid rebuttal. Hey Brilliger, shouldn't the PRT and Protectorate be sitting still and taking their licks from this? Yelling about it kinda seems like you condone that lieutenant's actions.
►Chilldrizzle
Replied On Jan 23rd 2011:
Hey! Don't you talk shit about the PRT. They work hard to keep us safe!
►XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On Jan 23rd 2011:
Sit down, @Chilldrizzle. It's not that simple. The PRT was responsible for a screwup of national proportions, you can't just wave that away with "all the good they do".
►Char
Replied On Jan 23rd 2011:
Heyyyyy, look at that! A rare Void sane post! must_be_the_last_one_of_the_season.gif
►XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On Jan 23rd 2011:
Hey, don't make fun of me like that! Just because none of you all know about the secret power-granting conspiracy in charge of the PRT that orchestrates all their incompetence is no reason to laugh at the only one smart enough to figure it out!
►Dawgsmiles (Veteran Member)
Replied On Jan 23rd 2011:
Aaaaand we're back. Power-granters behind the scenes this week, is it, Void? Guess the lizards of yesteryear got tired and retired, huh?
End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
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Steven Costa looked up from his screen at his beautiful wife, who was washing the dishes. (He'd made dinner, after all.) "Hon, come see the newest ridiculous Void theory, it's hilarious!"
Hi, everyone! The chapters just seem to get longer and longer, huh. Anyways, I'll be trying to post once a week here, and a bit more often/whenever I feel like it over on Region. I hope this chapter is a bit easier to follow than the last.
With Dragon definitely-not-condoning this investigation, I imagine taking this scoop down from the PHO will be on Dragon's "low-priority" list. Just behind calculating all the lost grains of sand from the latest Leviathan attack and reanalyzing all of Void Cowboy's posts to see if the bans were justified.
Also Steven Costa. Wonder who that wife is and how pleased she will be with the article?
The trouble is that a gun can be misused as easily as it is used, and yet removing all guns or all authority from those we set above us defeats their purpose.
Just gonna slip those guns in there as though they were as non negotiable as authority. Cute. Sudo definitely knows how to keep the worst people on her side at least.
No, a sane reading of the facts clearly indicates that when she told him to "go fuck yourself", he merely saw an opportunity to use the law against her by pretending she had mastered him into self-mutilation. In reality, he is a psychopath and a perjurer, and she is innocent.
I think it's a fairly compelling presentation of events, especially for one targeted at the court of public opinion.
If he was mastered, how did he make it past the guards? What other things did anyone and everyone around him say that construed "commands" did he hear and not follow through on?
Given that Canary's power makes someone suggestible to anyone, not just Canary, that's a contradiction in the established narrative that must be addressed.
He's a psychopath. He knew he could destroy her career and life by doing this and it wouldn't even be permanent since parahuman healing exists.
If she actually mastered him, then telling him to leave would have worked. That was always a bit of a weak spot in the canon story. It's the same with the short timeframe in which her power is active. By the time he made it home the command would have long worn off.
He's a psychopath. He knew he could destroy her career and life by doing this and it wouldn't even be permanent since parahuman healing exists.
If she actually mastered him, then telling him to leave would have worked. That was always a bit of a weak spot in the canon story. It's the same with the short timeframe in which her power is active. By the time he made it home the command would have long worn off.
It wasn't discussed in the story, but Wildbow said that it was a result of her having a Cauldron power. Her shard was dead, but it had some blunt conflict-inducing protocols. You know how Taylor's range increases based on how close she feels to her trigger event, or how Lung's power ramps up in conflict? Canary's power was at reduced strength to lull her into complacency until it sees an opportunity to start shit. So she's singing on stage and her power is at a reduced level, but then it increases in potency while she's arguing with her ex because she might say something rash.
