Question is, does Deathstroke know that the traps were fortuitus, or is the reduced explosion size due to the calculator being cautious around his actual person? Don't forget, he's also working through intermediaries as well, so the difference in boom level might not be immediately obvious.
The Calculator (DC Multiverse, SI as canon character, Season 1 complete)
Question is, does Deathstroke know that the traps were fortuitus, or is the reduced explosion size due to the calculator being cautious around his actual person? Don't forget, he's also working through intermediaries as well, so the difference in boom level might not be immediately obvious.
Boating
- Location
- USA
I made it down the hill to the sidewalk two blocks away just as a self-driving cab rolled to a stop in front of me.
"All monitoring systems are under my control," Pooja said in my ear.
The trunk popped open. I threw my luggage in, slammed it shut, and got into the back seat—careful not to damage anything with my bulky armor. I checked how events were progressing on my AR display against the back of the front seats. Emergency services starting to arrive at all locations. Video of fire shooting out of windows at two locations, the third surrounded by police with drawn guns. Fires weren't spreading outside the lots. Good. No bystanders seemed to be in any immediate danger.
Not that no one had been killed. Three- no, four people dead so far. One of the attackers hadn't made it out of the civilian ID's house before it exploded. None had made it out of my secret lair.
Technically, Pooja had killed them, not me.
Good for her.
They'd come at us, armed, invading homes, and without warning or negotiation. Fuck 'em. I'd have done it myself. Ordered Pooja to do it, even if she wasn't ready and willing to kill to protect me—which she clearly was.
Was that dark? Did that make me or Pooja a bad person? Was she suddenly a rampaging AI with no morals?
Ha. Yeah, no. I didn't have three hours to construct a lecture to myself on the morality of self defense. A lecture I didn't need, and Pooja likely had hard-coded.
I had fucking Sun Tzu'd this shit ahead of time. I knew myself. I knew my enemy. I wasn't going down easy because I got stupid and avoided immediately escalating. They came into a killing field when I was cut off from retreat. They had guns and supertech. I had more guns and better supertech. I won.
Sure, I could and would lie to other people, but not myself. I knew this wasn't some DC universe influence driving me to villainy—some ghost of the past, much more classically-criminal me. I wasn't some self-sacrificing hero in any universe, and I'd had this internal debate before my current odd situation made it truly relevant. I'd mentally prepared and planned for self defense scenarios, even if this was the most dramatic actual event I'd been through.
I wasn't going to beat myself up over this. I'd done the right thing. My mind was clear. My thoughts fast, focused. It wasn't even all due to the smart drugs. I smoothed the snarl off my face with conscious effort, working the tightness out of my jaw, fists loose, flexing my fingers then cracking my knuckles with loud pops.
"Okay Pooja, here's how we're going to escape from L.A." I flicked through the screens on my AR glasses, constructing a plan both simple and effective.
It didn't primarily involve shooting Slade Wilson, but that was a strong target of opportunity.
The Marina del Rey harbor is the world's largest man-made harbor for yachts. Lex Luthor has the world's largest single-masted, sloop-rigged super yacht anchored there in a huge birth. The mast towered thirty stories high. He must have been paying absurd amounts of money for that.
As I strolled casually along the edge of the parking lot, towards the individually locked gates protecting the boats, I tapped my fingers across a railing, seeing in my glasses things that didn't exist. Records showed Lex doesn't use it more than once a year. And it likely had the best security of any boat in the Marina. The lock clicked in front of me and I swung it open like I belonged here.
Screw it. I closed the info windows with a flick of my finger. It's not like I wanted to steal the stupid thing anyway. Too much heat. My frown only disappeared after Pooja finished confusing my trail via the poorly secured harbor records and pulled out past the breakwaters into open ocean on our stolen luxury motor yacht.
Pooja had selected this boat by comparing how likely it was to be missed against its advantageous features. The sporty little multi-decker, twenty-meter, three cabin boat had a high-tech, fully electronic piloting system and an owner out of state.
Despite the weather, I was still wearing my suit with full trench coat over it. I wished I'd designed the power suit with internal temperature management system. Paper-thin liquid cooling panels could have kept me comfortable as I hid in the pilothouse and waited for the AC to kick in.
We turned south, and green constructs dipped into the water on one side out of sight of shore. A net of constructs covered the hull to warn of boarders. The built-in sonar and radar systems were linked to Pooja along with the security cameras, but her reaction times were bad with only satellite connections to her main servers. I loaded several more combat programs onto the power suit just in case.
It looked good so far. I'd made it to the Marina and out on a boat without facing any opposition. I'd figured Slade wouldn't think of either the Calculator or his agents escaping on a boat. And even if he did have some plans, they'd be third-tier and too slow to react with Pooja compromising the entire Marina's security systems.
All traffic in the area of the boat was monitored. Nothing larger than a minnow got close without Pooja's notice. Once out of sight of shore and other ships, the entire boat was quickly covered in spiky, glowing defensive constructs. With nothing productive to do, I took a nap in the captain's cabin.
So, of course, thirty minutes later anti-ship missiles came over the horizon. As I pulled on my gloves and helmet, I listened to Pooja's ongoing reports.
"Four contacts, bearing one-six-four. Likely ship-fired based on profile. Assuming observer drone at extreme altitude. Brace."
Flexible, rounded constructs covered my ears and I hunched down next to the bed, exosuit arms over my helmet and a water survival program loaded and ready to manually trigger. A spiderweb of construct lines filed out the door and ports, connection to systems all over the ship.
When Pooja started firing, I could feel the deafening staccato sound in my chest from the AAA constructs. The boat jerked sideways in the water from the massive barrage of fire. It seemed to go on forever. I watched a constructed virtual image of the huge, glowing, green guns mounted on the decks of the boat, things more fitting to a battleship and spitting out hard light pellets at an absurd rate.
"One missile down," Pooja said. "Boat structural integrity damaged from weapon mounts. Danger! Jamming detec-"
My fingers flicked through the HUD menus. Broadband jamming took out the satellite link. Nothing else currently available. Pooja was out of contact. I manually linked to the AAA gun constructs and loaded the targeting program on my suit.
The boat shook again as I fired, corrected, and fired again. Tracking was mostly automatic but I still needed to target select and manually fire. Couldn't trust this bodged-together system if, say, Wonder Woman's invisible jet suddenly appeared.
I glanced at the cosmic energy charge meter. Power systems were holding for now and it was charging relatively fast. There are stars out even during the day, after all. The Sun, plus others drowned out by its light. The cosmic converter systems worked on non-interacting mystical particles, so it wasn't quite like solar energy. But that didn't mean I could waste it derping around with high-cost munitions like this.
Two down. Now the missiles were juking, dipping and twitching to avoid my fire. This avoidance program hadn't started earlier, likely because Pooja had opened fire at extreme long range and it was timed. Things had gotten significantly more difficult.
I could smell my own sweat in the cold, air-conditioned captain's cabin. The bed dug into my back as I braced my armored feet into the floor. I spared a moment for the navigation system, considered for a long, long second, then turned it toward shore, directly away from the missiles but also away from my objective in San Diego Bay.
I resumed fire again in bursts. Three seconds out. No jamming possible on my side. Couldn't yet get electronic or thermal effects good enough for ECCM, flares, or chaff out of the constructs.
Two seconds out. Got the third.
One second out. Screw burst—I went fully automatic. The boat felt like it was shaking apart. Damage control readout was red, so I guess I was. I triggered the shielding and water survival programs as I continued to fire and a green glow surrounded me and my suitcase.
I was across the room, half-buried in a wall. There had been an explosion, loud, close. My hands shook as I went to review the sensor data.
The fourth missile had impacted on an ablative energy shell, but the explosion wasn't fully contained. Cameras showed scorch marks and scattered shrapnel on the front left quarter of the hull.
I had at least ten minutes to shore; even if I just wanted to run it up on the beach that was too far. Another wave of missiles was likely. Using the boat to travel was still more energy efficient than flying—and likely safer, too—so I dug constructs into the water, formed streamlined screws, and poured on the speed.
Second wave, right on time. This was a little much. Who had this sort of munitions? This was military stuff. I checked the readout Pooja had download to my suit. These missiles were usually mounted on Chinese destroyers.
Suitcase in hand, coat on, and still surrounded by a glowing green shell, I exited the cabin and hopped overboard.
I skipped against the waves once, twice, then sank like the world's least prepared wake-boarding enthusiast, my suitcase dragged behind me on a glowing green tether. I trusted the integrity of the construct tying me to the battered yacht while I switched back to my helmet readouts. Manual AAA systems back under my control, I continued to fire on the next four missiles.
Even the suit had learning systems embedded in its programming. Aim was improving. Two exploded in flares of fire, one after the other. I grit my teeth and override the targeting system, firing at too long at the last heading of the second missile. The third slammed into a shield. The boat shook. I hit the defense system override and the fourth missile hit the boat directly, just right of the pilothouse.
The upper deck of the yacht evaporated in a cloud of fire, spraying debris across the waves. Several systems on the boat went dark and I let the glowing green hard-light fade from everywhere but the tether on the bottom of the boat.
Lengthening the line, I sunk lower, extending tethered sensor pods as I went. No sonar, but some of the light spectrum was still good at this depth. When the forward momentum of the boat slowed, I fired up my own screw propeller constructs. As I pulled away from the boat, I maintained a connection to the remaining functional shipboard cameras through constructs strung inside the shattered hull.
And there we go. Back helicopter, no markings of any kind. Two gunmen leaning out the sides.
I was getting to the edge of my range, the tether back to the ship getting a little thin by the time they reached the slowly sinking boat. They immediately opened fire on it with automatic weapons. Feature analysis popped up. Guns were also Chinese military make. Likely stolen. Good enough for me.
Time to play dead now and silently fade. Oh no, you got me. I am finished.
Yeah, fuck that, and fuck them.
I blew the boat apart, firing short-lived lances of green hard-light the size of telephone poles from the hull several hundred meters outward in all directions. It just so happened that the only two non-illusory, actually hard hard-light poles ran straight into the hovering helicopter, blowing apart the motor systems and crew compartment. The largest parts that fell into the ocean met just-constructed underwater mines that exploded into glowing balls of long, sharp spikes, further shredding the wreck, any survivors, and throwing plumes of water high into the air.
It took me down to 20% charge remaining. Worth it.
Short of pissing on their smoking corpses, I think I was just about as done as I could be here. First part of my message sent to whatever asshats thought that was a good idea. My guess was they were from some Chinese, Lex Luthor wannabe. Well now, whether they knew it or not, they were on my list. A list kept and executed by an AI that never slept, curated by a man completely out of fucks to give.
I held at five meters off the seabed, still covered in a construct shell and moving at forty knots from construct force pressure alone—about as fast and as silent as a modern attack sub, and twice as pissed-off.
As I dragged my luggage onto a lonely, rocky shore, Pooja's satellite connection came back up. I was suddenly bristling with outward-facing weapons and sensor pods. I stood absolutely still.
A second later, they retracted and the glow surrounding me faded.
"Good," Pooja said. "I see you are safe. I tracked your initial evasion via satellite observation but it is good to be able to make sure of it directly. Well done with the helicopter."
"Thanks." I blew out a breath and twisted at the waist, servos flexing and black gloved hands on my hips. The crink in my back popped satisfyingly.
"So, Pooja. You hacked a military spy satellite in mere minutes, just for this?"
"No," Pooja replied simply.
"Huh. Okay."
No longer glowing, I dragged my rolling suitcase through the sand, past some idle day-trippers, and into the beach parking lot. I still had the coat and helmet on, and must look like either a supervillain or a crazy hobo. It sorta looked like a bulky motorcycle helmet, and I was getting covered in sand and dragging inappropriate luggage, so I was hoping hobo won out for anyone who saw me.
"Area cameras have been compromised," Pooja said. "Vehicle compromised."
A high-tech looking luxury car started in the parking space next to me. I opened the trunk and frowned, then pointed at my sand-covered luggage and boots. A scan line of green ran down both, scraping them clean.
Luggage loaded in the trunk, I took off my coat and threw it onto the back seat, moved the front passenger seat all the way back and down, then collapsed into it.
I was asleep before the stolen self-driving car hit the freeway.
"All monitoring systems are under my control," Pooja said in my ear.
The trunk popped open. I threw my luggage in, slammed it shut, and got into the back seat—careful not to damage anything with my bulky armor. I checked how events were progressing on my AR display against the back of the front seats. Emergency services starting to arrive at all locations. Video of fire shooting out of windows at two locations, the third surrounded by police with drawn guns. Fires weren't spreading outside the lots. Good. No bystanders seemed to be in any immediate danger.
Not that no one had been killed. Three- no, four people dead so far. One of the attackers hadn't made it out of the civilian ID's house before it exploded. None had made it out of my secret lair.
Technically, Pooja had killed them, not me.
Good for her.
They'd come at us, armed, invading homes, and without warning or negotiation. Fuck 'em. I'd have done it myself. Ordered Pooja to do it, even if she wasn't ready and willing to kill to protect me—which she clearly was.
Was that dark? Did that make me or Pooja a bad person? Was she suddenly a rampaging AI with no morals?
Ha. Yeah, no. I didn't have three hours to construct a lecture to myself on the morality of self defense. A lecture I didn't need, and Pooja likely had hard-coded.
I had fucking Sun Tzu'd this shit ahead of time. I knew myself. I knew my enemy. I wasn't going down easy because I got stupid and avoided immediately escalating. They came into a killing field when I was cut off from retreat. They had guns and supertech. I had more guns and better supertech. I won.
Sure, I could and would lie to other people, but not myself. I knew this wasn't some DC universe influence driving me to villainy—some ghost of the past, much more classically-criminal me. I wasn't some self-sacrificing hero in any universe, and I'd had this internal debate before my current odd situation made it truly relevant. I'd mentally prepared and planned for self defense scenarios, even if this was the most dramatic actual event I'd been through.
I wasn't going to beat myself up over this. I'd done the right thing. My mind was clear. My thoughts fast, focused. It wasn't even all due to the smart drugs. I smoothed the snarl off my face with conscious effort, working the tightness out of my jaw, fists loose, flexing my fingers then cracking my knuckles with loud pops.
"Okay Pooja, here's how we're going to escape from L.A." I flicked through the screens on my AR glasses, constructing a plan both simple and effective.
It didn't primarily involve shooting Slade Wilson, but that was a strong target of opportunity.
The Marina del Rey harbor is the world's largest man-made harbor for yachts. Lex Luthor has the world's largest single-masted, sloop-rigged super yacht anchored there in a huge birth. The mast towered thirty stories high. He must have been paying absurd amounts of money for that.
As I strolled casually along the edge of the parking lot, towards the individually locked gates protecting the boats, I tapped my fingers across a railing, seeing in my glasses things that didn't exist. Records showed Lex doesn't use it more than once a year. And it likely had the best security of any boat in the Marina. The lock clicked in front of me and I swung it open like I belonged here.
Screw it. I closed the info windows with a flick of my finger. It's not like I wanted to steal the stupid thing anyway. Too much heat. My frown only disappeared after Pooja finished confusing my trail via the poorly secured harbor records and pulled out past the breakwaters into open ocean on our stolen luxury motor yacht.
Pooja had selected this boat by comparing how likely it was to be missed against its advantageous features. The sporty little multi-decker, twenty-meter, three cabin boat had a high-tech, fully electronic piloting system and an owner out of state.
Despite the weather, I was still wearing my suit with full trench coat over it. I wished I'd designed the power suit with internal temperature management system. Paper-thin liquid cooling panels could have kept me comfortable as I hid in the pilothouse and waited for the AC to kick in.
We turned south, and green constructs dipped into the water on one side out of sight of shore. A net of constructs covered the hull to warn of boarders. The built-in sonar and radar systems were linked to Pooja along with the security cameras, but her reaction times were bad with only satellite connections to her main servers. I loaded several more combat programs onto the power suit just in case.
It looked good so far. I'd made it to the Marina and out on a boat without facing any opposition. I'd figured Slade wouldn't think of either the Calculator or his agents escaping on a boat. And even if he did have some plans, they'd be third-tier and too slow to react with Pooja compromising the entire Marina's security systems.
All traffic in the area of the boat was monitored. Nothing larger than a minnow got close without Pooja's notice. Once out of sight of shore and other ships, the entire boat was quickly covered in spiky, glowing defensive constructs. With nothing productive to do, I took a nap in the captain's cabin.
So, of course, thirty minutes later anti-ship missiles came over the horizon. As I pulled on my gloves and helmet, I listened to Pooja's ongoing reports.
"Four contacts, bearing one-six-four. Likely ship-fired based on profile. Assuming observer drone at extreme altitude. Brace."
Flexible, rounded constructs covered my ears and I hunched down next to the bed, exosuit arms over my helmet and a water survival program loaded and ready to manually trigger. A spiderweb of construct lines filed out the door and ports, connection to systems all over the ship.
When Pooja started firing, I could feel the deafening staccato sound in my chest from the AAA constructs. The boat jerked sideways in the water from the massive barrage of fire. It seemed to go on forever. I watched a constructed virtual image of the huge, glowing, green guns mounted on the decks of the boat, things more fitting to a battleship and spitting out hard light pellets at an absurd rate.
"One missile down," Pooja said. "Boat structural integrity damaged from weapon mounts. Danger! Jamming detec-"
My fingers flicked through the HUD menus. Broadband jamming took out the satellite link. Nothing else currently available. Pooja was out of contact. I manually linked to the AAA gun constructs and loaded the targeting program on my suit.
The boat shook again as I fired, corrected, and fired again. Tracking was mostly automatic but I still needed to target select and manually fire. Couldn't trust this bodged-together system if, say, Wonder Woman's invisible jet suddenly appeared.
I glanced at the cosmic energy charge meter. Power systems were holding for now and it was charging relatively fast. There are stars out even during the day, after all. The Sun, plus others drowned out by its light. The cosmic converter systems worked on non-interacting mystical particles, so it wasn't quite like solar energy. But that didn't mean I could waste it derping around with high-cost munitions like this.
Two down. Now the missiles were juking, dipping and twitching to avoid my fire. This avoidance program hadn't started earlier, likely because Pooja had opened fire at extreme long range and it was timed. Things had gotten significantly more difficult.
I could smell my own sweat in the cold, air-conditioned captain's cabin. The bed dug into my back as I braced my armored feet into the floor. I spared a moment for the navigation system, considered for a long, long second, then turned it toward shore, directly away from the missiles but also away from my objective in San Diego Bay.
I resumed fire again in bursts. Three seconds out. No jamming possible on my side. Couldn't yet get electronic or thermal effects good enough for ECCM, flares, or chaff out of the constructs.
Two seconds out. Got the third.
One second out. Screw burst—I went fully automatic. The boat felt like it was shaking apart. Damage control readout was red, so I guess I was. I triggered the shielding and water survival programs as I continued to fire and a green glow surrounded me and my suitcase.
I was across the room, half-buried in a wall. There had been an explosion, loud, close. My hands shook as I went to review the sensor data.
The fourth missile had impacted on an ablative energy shell, but the explosion wasn't fully contained. Cameras showed scorch marks and scattered shrapnel on the front left quarter of the hull.
I had at least ten minutes to shore; even if I just wanted to run it up on the beach that was too far. Another wave of missiles was likely. Using the boat to travel was still more energy efficient than flying—and likely safer, too—so I dug constructs into the water, formed streamlined screws, and poured on the speed.
Second wave, right on time. This was a little much. Who had this sort of munitions? This was military stuff. I checked the readout Pooja had download to my suit. These missiles were usually mounted on Chinese destroyers.
Suitcase in hand, coat on, and still surrounded by a glowing green shell, I exited the cabin and hopped overboard.
I skipped against the waves once, twice, then sank like the world's least prepared wake-boarding enthusiast, my suitcase dragged behind me on a glowing green tether. I trusted the integrity of the construct tying me to the battered yacht while I switched back to my helmet readouts. Manual AAA systems back under my control, I continued to fire on the next four missiles.
Even the suit had learning systems embedded in its programming. Aim was improving. Two exploded in flares of fire, one after the other. I grit my teeth and override the targeting system, firing at too long at the last heading of the second missile. The third slammed into a shield. The boat shook. I hit the defense system override and the fourth missile hit the boat directly, just right of the pilothouse.
The upper deck of the yacht evaporated in a cloud of fire, spraying debris across the waves. Several systems on the boat went dark and I let the glowing green hard-light fade from everywhere but the tether on the bottom of the boat.
Lengthening the line, I sunk lower, extending tethered sensor pods as I went. No sonar, but some of the light spectrum was still good at this depth. When the forward momentum of the boat slowed, I fired up my own screw propeller constructs. As I pulled away from the boat, I maintained a connection to the remaining functional shipboard cameras through constructs strung inside the shattered hull.
And there we go. Back helicopter, no markings of any kind. Two gunmen leaning out the sides.
I was getting to the edge of my range, the tether back to the ship getting a little thin by the time they reached the slowly sinking boat. They immediately opened fire on it with automatic weapons. Feature analysis popped up. Guns were also Chinese military make. Likely stolen. Good enough for me.
Time to play dead now and silently fade. Oh no, you got me. I am finished.
Yeah, fuck that, and fuck them.
I blew the boat apart, firing short-lived lances of green hard-light the size of telephone poles from the hull several hundred meters outward in all directions. It just so happened that the only two non-illusory, actually hard hard-light poles ran straight into the hovering helicopter, blowing apart the motor systems and crew compartment. The largest parts that fell into the ocean met just-constructed underwater mines that exploded into glowing balls of long, sharp spikes, further shredding the wreck, any survivors, and throwing plumes of water high into the air.
It took me down to 20% charge remaining. Worth it.
Short of pissing on their smoking corpses, I think I was just about as done as I could be here. First part of my message sent to whatever asshats thought that was a good idea. My guess was they were from some Chinese, Lex Luthor wannabe. Well now, whether they knew it or not, they were on my list. A list kept and executed by an AI that never slept, curated by a man completely out of fucks to give.
I held at five meters off the seabed, still covered in a construct shell and moving at forty knots from construct force pressure alone—about as fast and as silent as a modern attack sub, and twice as pissed-off.
As I dragged my luggage onto a lonely, rocky shore, Pooja's satellite connection came back up. I was suddenly bristling with outward-facing weapons and sensor pods. I stood absolutely still.
A second later, they retracted and the glow surrounding me faded.
"Good," Pooja said. "I see you are safe. I tracked your initial evasion via satellite observation but it is good to be able to make sure of it directly. Well done with the helicopter."
"Thanks." I blew out a breath and twisted at the waist, servos flexing and black gloved hands on my hips. The crink in my back popped satisfyingly.
"So, Pooja. You hacked a military spy satellite in mere minutes, just for this?"
"No," Pooja replied simply.
"Huh. Okay."
No longer glowing, I dragged my rolling suitcase through the sand, past some idle day-trippers, and into the beach parking lot. I still had the coat and helmet on, and must look like either a supervillain or a crazy hobo. It sorta looked like a bulky motorcycle helmet, and I was getting covered in sand and dragging inappropriate luggage, so I was hoping hobo won out for anyone who saw me.
"Area cameras have been compromised," Pooja said. "Vehicle compromised."
A high-tech looking luxury car started in the parking space next to me. I opened the trunk and frowned, then pointed at my sand-covered luggage and boots. A scan line of green ran down both, scraping them clean.
Luggage loaded in the trunk, I took off my coat and threw it onto the back seat, moved the front passenger seat all the way back and down, then collapsed into it.
I was asleep before the stolen self-driving car hit the freeway.
Last edited:
This guy has crossed the wrong information broker
Last edited:
- Location
- Earth Prime
Whether it was a good idea or a suicidal idea to attack the Calculator with those resources remains to be seen. He may already have been on the Calculator's list, after all. In which case, trying to take him out might seem like a good idea, if one doesn't know that the AI will keep going even after his death.
Isn't that a lovely screw you from a supervillain, by the by? Even if he can't enact MORE new plans after death, any he had in motion will continue creatively executing. It'll be YEARS before you're certain you really got him. If you're around to enjoy it because he failed to take you out from beyond the grave.
Isn't that a lovely screw you from a supervillain, by the by? Even if he can't enact MORE new plans after death, any he had in motion will continue creatively executing. It'll be YEARS before you're certain you really got him. If you're around to enjoy it because he failed to take you out from beyond the grave.
Are we sure that was an attack on Calculator and not Luthor?
- Location
- Canada
He didn't actually take Luthor's yacht, he was just admiring it.
He took another less likely to draw the heat down on him.
- Location
- PR
Woah this is actually a good question and would serve as a plot twist.
We and the Calculator think it was an attack of to him but it was actually an attack of opportunity towards who they thought was Lex.
- Location
- Earth Prime
I actually wonder if stealing Lex's yacht, and then having Pooja forward Lex a polite note apologizing for the inconvenience and promising to pay him back for any damages (and otherwise have it gassed and detailed and back in its harbor when he was done with it) would have worked. On a supervillainy scale, it's a minor favor, but it would be a valuable one to Lex, and certainly not worth the hassle of trying to make an example when the thief is actually being oddly gentlemanly and respectful about it.
Plus, an attack on the yacht at that point could be construed as an attack on Luthor, which might stymie some people with any sense of self-preservation.
Plus, an attack on the yacht at that point could be construed as an attack on Luthor, which might stymie some people with any sense of self-preservation.
- Location
- New Jersey, USA
Last edited:
- Location
- Earth Prime
There are! They just don't get featured very often, because they're boring.Because there's a lot of those people in DC Comics
- Location
- New Jersey, USA
There are! They just don't get featured very often, because they're boring.
Hence why they don't appear in the comics.
I didn't say anything about the world.
/pedant
Console
- Location
- USA
[condensed informational file available to all postlingual agents]
[open file]
[open file]
TS:2017-04-14T07:32:00Z
LOC:HLJSTC_MTRM01
[warning: emotional, audio, and video data stripped in this file]
[conference video is not available]
[exception: items sent through the conference room projector video channel]
[see directory index for original audio and available video]
[additional data available: compiled affective agent data]
[audio transcript text begins]
[conference video is not available]
[exception: items sent through the conference room projector video channel]
[see directory index for original audio and available video]
[additional data available: compiled affective agent data]
[audio transcript text begins]
SPMN: "Sorry Batman, Green Arrow. Went to the usual meeting room by accident. [laughter] I was wondering where everyone had got to."
BTMN: "We needed an outside line. Security is still being reworked. This should be sufficient for now."
SPMN: "[chair scraping] Right, and since this one is for public events or outside contractors, it can access the internet without compromising the base's main firewalls."
BTMN: "Just so. Let's start. Remember, code names only."
SPMN: "So, what's Oracle got for us?"
BTMN: "Why not ask her?"
[mic opens over the secured IP voice channel, broadcasting to the conference room audience]
ORCL: "Gentlemen."
GNAR: "So, what's the computer lady up to today?"
ORCL: "The aftermath and cause of this."
[TV video starts, playing footage of a burning wreck in the ocean]
[audio from presentation]
"-stolen from Marina del Rey, California was blown up off the coast less than an hour later. The explosion took place just north of San Diego, California. The yacht belonged to-"
[audio muted on presentation—full transcript available, see references section of this file]
ORCL: "This is the end of a series of events that started with the theft of Star Woman's Cosmic Staff from her apartment. Initial reports were that criminal information broker the Calculator was responsible."
GNAR: "Yeah, I've run into him before. Well, his work. Weird guy. Never shows up in person. Consultant. Minor player, seldom involved in crimes in Star City. Or anywhere else, from what I hear."
BTMN: "I have found his fingerprints on felonies committed by thirty-five different criminals, with dozens more partially matching the MO. His plans feature a cold, singular, rational progression towards a specific objective. So far, he has not been physically present during any of the...capers he consults on, nor does he regularly employ many hench-people. When he does, they are usually rotated out quickly and without incident. His consulting plans succeed over four times more often than average (all other factors being taken into account), usually suffer fewer incidents of capture, and feature marked decreases in civilian injuries and deaths—down to possibly zero fatalities directly attributable to his criminal consulting."
GNAR: "Oooookay..."
SPMN: "Shame we don't know more about him, huh? Not exactly the most outrageous criminal mastermind. Then why'd he go after Star Woman's staff?"
ORCL: "I think he didn't. That same day, Deathstroke attacked a small Los Angeles area high-tech startup, TriD Inc. Again, we initially believed that the Calculator was responsible for the theft after tracing his operations to TriD, then to the security at Star Woman's apartment. The theory was Deathstroke was tracking down the Calculator, possibly to attempt to steal the staff from him. But those business links to the Calculator turned out to have been planted after the break-in and the attack at TriD. By Deathstroke. Based on data gathered in this case, it appears Deathstroke was working for a Chinese organized crime syndicate, or at least was selling them the stolen goods. They framed the Calculator's operation for the theft. Would have worked if it hadn't been for some lucky breaks, and a local L.A. hardware expert with links to the superhero and metahuman online communities who assisted in uncovering additional facts on this case."
BTMN: "Over the course of six days, the Calculator and Deathstroke appear to have played a deadly game. Deathstroke with hired mercenaries and hackers to steal the staff, frame the Calculator, and attack a company with as of yet unknown interest to the Calculator; The Calculator replied with proxies, computer exploits requiring incredibly detail-oriented work, and the subversion of what is likely hundreds of private networks and servers. That is the best explanation for how the Calculator's agents evaded capture for so long."
ORCL: "Most of this occurred in the realm of other people's computer systems. With our friendly neighborhood hardware guru's help in L.A., and use of Star Woman's university research lab, we designed, built, tested, and deployed a prototype tracking system for the Cosmic Staff's power supply."
BTMN: "Power Woman joined Star Woman to assist in tracking down the staff. It was quickly located, via triangulation with the prototype sensor and corroborating digital evidence, at a shipping company in the Port of Long Beach, California. After police radio reports of a violent commotion in the area, Power Woman went ahead to secure the location. Once on site, Power Woman encountered Plant Master and a man in a black and green combat exoskeleton with attached armor plating."
SPMN: "The Calculator?"
BTMN: "His profile suggests otherwise. The Calculator seldom if ever shows his face, or a face at all, and usually works through intermediaries and cutouts."
GNAR: "So, one of his few mercenary temps."
BTMN: "...possibly. The suit was crudely put together, suggesting it was constructed using scavenged and re-purposed parts. A local hardware specialist may have been paid for a rush job to specifications from the Calculator to send a message of some kind. This fits with the Calculator not being known for having a stable of technologically-enhanced devices or minions, but also for him usually taking care of his employees. He deals in criminal consulting, information sales, and minor magical items, so what doesn't fit is the advanced hard-light generator attached to the power suit."
[video plays, showing helmeted figure surrounded by green constructs that emanate from its chest. Video is taken from about one story up, pointing down at the subject at an angle]
SPMN: "Has Hal-...has Green Lantern seen this?"
BTMN: "Yes. They confirm hard light constructs, but not ones powered by a Green Power Ring. Our prototype sensor showed two sources of Cosmic Energy were present at the port storage annex."
GNAR: "So, this Calculator was after the staff? But was already using the same tech? How's that make sense?"
ORCL: "Deathstroke and his employer may have been unaware of this when they planed to frame him. Hence the Calculator possibly sending a message with this and later events. In any case, by the time Power Woman was on the scene, he had recovered the staff from a shipping container headed to China. His first action was to taunt Power Woman...and then immediately hand over the staff to her. That was when Deathstroke opened fire on Power Woman with a high-velocity rifle."
[video still shows a cracking green construct, camera positioned from inches away; it fills the presentation display]
SPMN: "Huh. That's-"
GNAR: "Ha! The temp's construct."
ORCL: "Best guess is that's part of an automatic anti-ballistics defense system; it likely still had to be targeted to cover Power Woman specifically, as the power suit was on the ground at the time."
GNAR: "That's some serious tech...I like his style. Last minute drama, save the dams-"
ORCL: "Don't finish that, Green Arrow."
GNAR: "Wait, wait, just kidding! No offense meant, Oracle. Seriously. Sorry. Uh...I need my bank account..."
[video still shows several pictures of the power suit in profile as well as head on, all taken from above]
BTMN: "You can see it is not well integrated. Note the differences between the armor panels and the rest of the suit. They are attached to a separate harness, not attached to the exoskeleton. The hard light projector is also relatively primitive compared to a Green Lantern's Ring."
SPMN: "Even including the hard light projector, all items conceivably available on the black market. Could the Calculator have made the Cosmic power supply in the time between the theft and this confrontation?"
BTMN: "Oracle?"
ORCL: "In that time frame? No, not without access to another Cosmic energy device to study. It is very obscure tech. The rest of those were confirmed secure and haven't left Star Woman's possession since the break-in. It took our L.A. expert's help and three days to make the tiny demo unit to calibrate the sensor prototype. She didn't have time to make more. We were basically monopolizing her that entire time. The result was a work of art that could barely run a blender and cost six digits to construct. It and the prototype sensor were sent directly to Star Woman for final testing before the op. That is the only one known to exist, but having an outside party help us with it does mean the tech is out there. So far, we thought it was just in friendly hands. No leads on how the Calculator had this tech already, but I don't see how he could have stolen the designs as we were making them and then made a better power generator all in that little time. Maybe a week or a month from now, with the same level of expertise working on the problem."
GNAR: "[cough] Nerds. [cough] Great. Cool. Guess that mean's he's been sitting on it for a while. So, I'm guessing the temp and Plant Guy got away? Then a boat exploded? How's this connected? And why'd tall, blond, and violent let them get away?"
BTMN: "At this point, Power Woman had recovered the Cosmic Staff. She then prioritized the lethal threat of an active shooter over two possible arrests. This was the correct decision, even though Deathstroke eventually evaded persuit. Plant Master and his plant creatures were down, but he recovered before she returned and escaped. Contact was immediately lost with the power-suited individual as well, suggesting he turned off his Cosmic power generator—a feature beyond both the testing unit Star Woman has, as well as the rest of the known Cosmic-powered items in existence. Yet another mystery surrounding this situation."
ORCL: "Then the next day, boom. Stolen yacht explodes. What the news didn't get is that the stolen yacht was hit by several missiles fired from another craft. I'm thinking, ex-Russian military coastal patrol boat with Chinese-made munitions. There was also wreckage of a military helicopter mixed in with the boats. No reports yet on any bodies or the make of the helicopter. The missile boat has also not been located."
GNAR: "So...how's the yacht fit? And who was firing on it?"
ORCL: "Looks like it was one or more of the Calculator's agents who stole the boat. They could have been evading Deathstroke, but it was likely Deathstroke's customer or employer who ordered the boat attacked after they lost the staff, which they might know was due to interference by the Calculator's agents. It appears Deathstroke is responsible for attacks on the Calculator's agent's houses, however."
[pictures of three houses, two blackened and extremely damaged, all surrounded by police tape]
SPMN: "I thought Deathstroke was framing the Calculator, not trying to murder his people? Wasn't that the organized crime group?"
ORCL: "It is unclear what the initial plan was beyond a frame-up. And one of those houses may belong to another party—note how it isn't on fire. After the staff was recovered, Deathstroke appears to have started a campaign to liquidate the Calculator's agents in the L.A. area. This is possibly part of a grudge, given that the staff was already back in our hands. This could have been to draw the Calculator out into a direct confrontation. Deathstroke typically enacts plans with multiple outcomes beneficial to him, but his current plans are unknown."
SPMN: "Hmm. So that's two groups that wanted the Calculator out of Los Angeles."
ORCL: "Correct Superman. One or more of the Calculator's agents likely stole the boat in an attempt to escape. One other suspect is in custody, and it looks like he might belong to Deathstroke or the crime syndicate; if the suspect gives up who hired him, he will likely get a plea deal on computer hacking charges related to the attack at TriD—the real one, not the frame-up. Probably. The other two were likely the Calculator's agents, and are still at large; both their houses were destroyed in explosions but no bodies were found. One of those attacked worked at TriD, the other was likely their handler—the house was under an assumed name, paid for through a shell company that crumbled the moment I looked at it. Mail and packages were being forwarded from the TriD employee to the other house, possibly as part of the handler's managing of the other agent's cover."
SPMN: "So, one person of interest caught, two missing. Did they make it off the boat?"
ORCL: "Unknown. If the helicopter belonged to the same crime syndicate who fired the missiles, that might mean the agents escaped with the help of the power suit wearing individual. The initial reports are that the helicopter broke up in the air, but there were no signs of bullet damage or explosives on that part of the debris. It was shredded by massive blunt force, including the engine housing. One of the signs of lethal hard light construct usage. The TriD employee might be the one wearing the power suit, in fact, as his build is within range of that person, which would explain his presence on the boat."
GNAR: "Which could mean a super-powered weapon is sitting at the bottom of the ocean right now."
ORCL: "Or maybe not. It is well within the power of a construct user to swim, Green Arrow."
BTMN: "I'm not happy that we have so little on the Calculator. But I suggest that until he threatens innocent people or otherwise raises his profile, any investigations regarding him, his men, or his technology would be best handled by the local Justice Society branch, the FBI, and local law enforcement, depending on the nature of the crimes. This simply does not rise to the level of a League mission. We have a three Justice League members present, enough to vote on this issue. Members of the Justice League, how do you vote on the matter of leaving this case to law enforcement and local super groups?"
BTMN: "[after a long pause] All votes are in favor of the suggested course of action. So recorded. This is now officially outside the Justice League's jurisdiction, until and unless the situation regarding the Calculator changes in a significant and material way. I will alert our contacts in the FBI and INTERPOL."
GNAR: "[a faint sigh, matched to voice pattern]"
BTMN: "We don't have time to track down every minor criminal, Green Arrow. That's the job of the U.S. criminal justice system. And you voted in favor. Eventually. Plant Master is on the run. We will pick him up the next job he takes. Deathstroke will continue to be pursued by the Justice League and international law enforcement. INTERPOL is also looking into the criminal syndicate, likely based in China. Email any questions to me or Oracle. You have the contacts. Meeting over."
[:TRIGGERED EXIT:END:]
[:AGENT_ID: 2bbb:0ed9:3cf6:6805:c0ec,
:CONNECT: "/i8 fe80:59ab:2715:0a0f:33af:e72b:8a5e:bf80:35b0:42b4:3870:fc9b"]
[...]
[connection secured]
[calibrating last emotive link...loaded]
[observing and waiting for 80% optimal response window,
timescale human 1:1,
MIN PRIORITY,
local resources for defensive purposes not less than 70%]
[...]
:CONNECT: "/i8 fe80:59ab:2715:0a0f:33af:e72b:8a5e:bf80:35b0:42b4:3870:fc9b"]
[...]
[connection secured]
[calibrating last emotive link...loaded]
[observing and waiting for 80% optimal response window,
timescale human 1:1,
MIN PRIORITY,
local resources for defensive purposes not less than 70%]
[...]
"Calculator, we are fifteen minutes out of Cheyenne, Wyoming. ETA to secondary site is forty-five minutes. I have information for you on the Justice League's and Oracle's reactions to yesterday's events."
[marking user Calculator responses as H1 PRIORITY]
[add thread,
personal timeshare class REPLAY interactions ALL where tagged :FIRST_DAY_BACK:]
[begin recording]
[...]
[log experimental auxiliary emotional content Agape at 20% above nominal]
[...]
[add thread,
personal timeshare class REPLAY interactions ALL where tagged :BG_ORCL:]
[calibrating last emotive link loaded]
[begin recording]
[...]
[log experimental auxiliary emotional content Eros at 5% above nominal]
[...]
[log experimental auxiliary emotional content Eros at 12% above nominal]
[...]
[incoming input detected H1 PRIORITY]
[end local threads where REPLAY]
[add thread,
personal timeshare class REPLAY interactions ALL where tagged :FIRST_DAY_BACK:]
[begin recording]
[...]
[log experimental auxiliary emotional content Agape at 20% above nominal]
[...]
[add thread,
personal timeshare class REPLAY interactions ALL where tagged :BG_ORCL:]
[calibrating last emotive link loaded]
[begin recording]
[...]
[log experimental auxiliary emotional content Eros at 5% above nominal]
[...]
[log experimental auxiliary emotional content Eros at 12% above nominal]
[...]
[incoming input detected H1 PRIORITY]
[end local threads where REPLAY]
"Sure, Pooja. Let's see what the white hats are up to. Thanks for the wake-up call."
[log experimental auxiliary emotional content Agape at 21% above nominal]
[…]
[…]
"You are welcome, Calculator. Loading full audio playback now. Some video available. This was recorded using an array of 100nm solid-state devices, placed on the outer windows of-"
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Quick notes
- Location
- USA
So. This is experimental. When I started this story, I swore I wouldn't use any point of view but the Calculator's. Technically, I still am.
More to follow later. For now:
Correct.
And like usual, the heroes don't even mention who the owner was. Little people don't matter to superheroes or supervillains.
In their defense, there are dozens of luxury yachts in that marina. Who'll miss one?
So yeah. Anyone think the heroes are being unnaturally dense? Too OOC? Too hard to read on mobile/Mk.1 Eyeball/Green-Black CRT in the '90s? Let me know.
Again, do note I'm not using TV Green Arrow. Basing him mostly on
Thanks for reading, all. Sorry this one was a little late. Expect the regular schedule next week, if not a little earlier.
More to follow later. For now:
Correct.
And like usual, the heroes don't even mention who the owner was. Little people don't matter to superheroes or supervillains.
In their defense, there are dozens of luxury yachts in that marina. Who'll miss one?
So yeah. Anyone think the heroes are being unnaturally dense? Too OOC? Too hard to read on mobile/Mk.1 Eyeball/Green-Black CRT in the '90s? Let me know.
Again, do note I'm not using TV Green Arrow. Basing him mostly on
Justice League Unlimited Green Arrow's personality. Which is...unfortunate. He's literally caught staring at a woman's ass in the first episode. Not sure if that agrees with the (I've heard broody) TV version. So deal with it, I guess, is my point? Batman the Animated Series Batman. Obviously. Among Friends Superman is actually the smartest person in the room, and I'm writing him like that. Batman just works harder. Batman knows this.
Thanks for reading, all. Sorry this one was a little late. Expect the regular schedule next week, if not a little earlier.
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- Location
- Laniakea
Looks like Pooja is a Daddy's Girl
- Location
- The Surface Of A Hostile Planet
Huh. Pooja is noting that she's unusually happy to talk to our protagonist when he thanks her, and logging it for future consideration. Being polite to your AIs in a superhero setting works, people!
Also, she's replaying her interactions with Oracle and noting that they make her happy. I guess she liked making a friend.
Also, she's replaying her interactions with Oracle and noting that they make her happy. I guess she liked making a friend.
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- Location
- Maybe?
Note that using code tags means Pooja's diagnostic lines are not linebroken on small screens like phones. You could just use quotes with font set to Courier New?
- Location
- Wall Gazing
I am curious why the white hats didn't talk more about the 'L.A. expert'. Because an expert with similar skills being in the same area as a mastermind going out of their way to help is just a little fishy. Or maybe I am being too cynical.
It's California? if there's a state where there would be such an expert, it would be that one?
Myself, I'm just wondering if they would want to plug the leak and hire the local expert. Perhaps Waynetech has a cozy position in some lab in L.A, or even star labs?
And also, they only talk about the calculator "Worth pursuing" without talking about deathstroke? shouldn't they also discuss what to do about him too? why they are focusing on him, instead of the mercenary, that just exploded some (according to them) random mook houses, and exploded a boat with fleeing calculator henchmen?
Shouldn't they be focusing on the agressor? After all, their hero mentality would probably steer them into focusing at the "save lives first", right?
And also, they only talk about the calculator "Worth pursuing" without talking about deathstroke? shouldn't they also discuss what to do about him too? why they are focusing on him, instead of the mercenary, that just exploded some (according to them) random mook houses, and exploded a boat with fleeing calculator henchmen?
Shouldn't they be focusing on the agressor? After all, their hero mentality would probably steer them into focusing at the "save lives first", right?
I think they're focused on the new threat(s). They know Deathstroke is dangerous and probably have members shaking the bushes looking for him. This new guy they need to discuss in order to categorize threat level and the appropriate response.
- Location
- New Jersey, USA
Format changes
- Location
- USA
Good idea. Using a monospace font and the indent tags instead. Thank you for the feedback. Looks ugly on my phone, too.
*EDIT2 OMG that is annoying to do. Keeps losing font tags. Stupid forum code. Stupid XML rich text paste. Looks good now, so leaving it alone.
My idea was that this meeting was specifically about the Calculator, but I don't think that ended up being clear. I've added to this paragraph to clarify:
*EDIT also this:
*EDIT this:
*final edit, removed from Threadmarks, added to Informational
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PROTIP: Click on the page and wrench icon to get the code, Copy it into Notepad++, Find and Replace, then Copy it back.
And now, for something completely different
- Location
- USA
Yeah. I'm a little beyond that. Text tags were being removed by the forum when I changed views, color tags were being added in random locations, and regular expressions were involved to fix it. It was a huge pain. Thanks, though.
Be aware that I used specific words there for some exact meanings.
Pooja isn't just happy to talk to Calc. She's experiencing a pure, altruistic love, as a loving god would for humankind. She's the god in this situation, BTW. As for her growing relationship with Oracle, Pooja would like to be very good friends. Friends with administrative access, if you know what I mean. That love is a little less pure and is based in part on how good Oracle is with computers and creeping on people.