Published at 17th of September 2024 7:20 am

Chapter 155: That’s a Nazi Thing

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

Stacy Watt-Powers held a sign over her head, that read ‘I’mHuman Too’, shouting at the top of her lungs, her voice disappearing into the rest of the crowd gathered around Nexus, largely composed of Androids protesting their treatment by Franklin city. There were a few men and women who were married to one, hopefully that buffer of meat humans would be enough to stop the ‘superheroes’ at Nexus from disappearing them into a shallow ditch.

Was it strange to see a twelve-year old at a civil rights protest that would in all likelihood end in violence? Probably, but Professor Replica knew she needed to be seen as either an activist or a martyr from a young age.

Anything to save the human race.

“I’m human too! I’m human too! I’m human too!” The chant kept repeating while the cold facade of the Nexus shrugged it off with the indifference only a solid steel building could muster.

“Did we choose to be what we are!?” Stacy demanded to the crowd through her megaphone, standing over them on a hastily assembled stage that dominated the street, frustrating traffic.

“NO!”

Not entirely true in my case, but the point stands.

“Did we choose our government!?”

“NO!”

“Rights!”

“Rights!”

“Representation!” Stacy shouted, pumping her tiny fist in the air.

“Representation!”

“We’re human too!”

“We’re Human T-“

The sound of shattering glass and the fwoosh of alcohol catching on fire cut through the protest’s chants, followed shortly by screams of fear and pain.

Someone from the counter-protest had thrown a Molotov. Stacy couldn’t see who it’d hit, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe no one had gotten hurt.

A counter-protesting woman with a sign that read ‘more normal than normal’ jumped the dividing line between them and smashed a young man across the face with it.

That seemed to unleash the floodgates as angry civilians began forcing their way past the police, eager to avenge themselves against the Replicators. The police, for their part, didn’t seem too eager to re-establish control.

“Retreat! Pull away!” Stacy shouted into the megaphone, pleased to see that save for a handful of knots of fighters who simply couldn’t detach themselves, the vast majority of Androids were willing to leave.

Stacy had briefed them prior to the rally that they needed to run if any violence was used on them. If they wanted to win the battle of optics, the only people allowed to participate needed to be ready to turn the other cheek.

Nearby Androids pushed attackers away from their friends, helped them to their feet and began sprinting along the pre-determined exit paths.

Doubtlessly, the news would grab a still shot of a couple Androids shoving a human, artfully framing it in such a way that the Android lying bleeding on the ground was cropped out, but there wasn’t really much you could do about that other than have several videographers in the apartment buildings above the street take wide-angle video and publish a video clip refuting every biased picture the local news tried to spin as ‘Android hostility’.

The internet is really cool... Oops, gotta move.

Stacy jumped down off her stage and joined the rush of fleeing Androids splitting up and going to their designated exfil zones. They called them exfil zones, but they were just different parking lots scattered around the city they had managed to monopolize.

Stacy’s family, and most of the Androids from their trailer park had chosen a tucked away parking lot behind a strip-mall ice-cream shop. The reasoning was that it was surrounded on three sides and facing an alley, making it difficult for counter-protesters to notice the congregation of cars and sabotage their vehicles while the Androids were protesting.

Unfortunately the boxed-in nature of the parking lot also made it easy to stage an ambush. Stacy hadn’t expected counter protestors to have that level of organization. She had underestimated them.

HONK!

Dad was fiddling through his keys when a car horn sounded, following by the crunch of fiberglass against concrete.

At the single exit into the narrow alleyway, a white van turned sideways, smashing into the concrete of the nearby building before disgorging no less than half a dozen paramilitary, with automatic weapons slung over their shoulders.

Shit. SHIT. Stacy would prefer not to become a martyr right now. In theory it was a strong option to advance her cause, but getting shot sucked.

She craned her neck to look for another exit, but she couldn’t see past all the adults milling around in growing panic.

We might be able to get out through the back entrance of one of the shops. Maybe.

“Lookie here,” the leader of the group said, sauntering forward with his wrist resting on the butt of his rifle. “Our snitch was right. A bunch of lamps playing pretend.”

Dad lunged into his car and grabbed the nine millimeter tucked away under his seat. Stacy barely managed to smack it out of his hand before he brandished it in front of the counter-protestors and got all of them riddled with bullets.

They were probably going to be riddled with bullets anyway, but there was no sense kicking things off before an attempt was made to avoid violence.

Stacy shoved the surrounding adults out of the way and stood in front of her creations, acting as an adorable shield between them and the headhunters. They wore identical fatigues with an insignia on their breast of a stylized robot with X’s for eyes, and held their weapons with practiced ease.

Technically they qualified as a gang, but the police had been doing jack-all to stop them. in all likelihood, beneath the grinning death-skull masks they were wearing to hide their shame, a lot of them probably were police.

“Why you all wearing masks, huh!?” Stacy asked, puffing herself up to her full height of four foot six. “You so sure you’re doing the right thing you gotta hide your faces!?”

A couple of the men flinched when rebuked by a child, but most of them simply hefted their guns.

“I ain’t talking to a Replicator,” the leader said, pulling out revolver and aiming squarely between Stacy’s eyes.

Well, it was good while it lasted.

BOOM!

Stacy flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. A moment later she realized that she was still alive.

Did dad shoot him? She was pretty sure dad was too afraid of her to go against her wishes, but you never know what a father will do until he’s pushed. Stacy had personal experience with that.

Stacy peeled her eyes open and spotted a black gulf that seemed to absorb all the midday sunlight and leave nothing behind but a void, in a humanoid shape standing directly in front of her. The figure’s feet were sunk an inch into the asphalt where it had landed at high speeds.

Paradox.

“Greetings citizens, I couldn’t help but notice you were engaging in a bit of target practice with high powered assault rifles in a public area.” Paradox’s modulated voice carried through the Androids waiting with bated breath.

Stacy spotted a piece of lead rolling to a halt by the armor’s ankle.

“You can’t stop us, mook. Those toasters over there don’t have rights, and you’re barely any better.” The leader said, gesturing towards everyone standing behind Paradox with an accusatory finger.

“It is my sworn duty to protect and serve the civilians of Franklin City. If that includes breakingtheirlegs in order to prevent them from committing suicide and escort them safely away from dangerous Replicators, then so be it.”

“You wouldn’t dar-“

SHHHH!

A line of shiny black and white substance that Stacy recognized – making her eye twitch – whipped out from behind the wannabe executioners and broke their legs at the shin, toppling all of them to the ground.

“Do not be alarmed, citizens,” Paradox continued. “I will safely escort you to somewhere you can be safe from the replicator threat. A local police station perhaps?”

“Get to the van!” the leader groaned as the black and white substance that sort of reminded Stacy of a Ying-Yang symbol disarmed the men and crumpled their guns into so much scrap metal.

“Are you sure you don’t need an escort to safety, helpless innocent civilians who definitely aren’t local PD?”

They didn’t respond, dragging themselves to their van, masks leaking tears and snot.

SCREECH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! The van spun its tires and backed its ass in to the nearby building twice in its attempt to unwedge itself from the boxed-in alley.

“Heh, that guy’s driving with a broken leg.” Paradox muttered to himself with a chuckle, his hands on his hips before he turned around, glancing them up and down.

“You Androids need to leave.” Paradox said, his expressionless helmet surveying the group. For some reason, Stacy felt like Paradox’s gaze lingered a bit longer on her than anyone else. It was impossible to know for sure, face hidden behind a featureless, light-devouring void.

“That sounds good,” Her dad said, nodding enthusiastically. “Doesn’t that sound good, sweetie?”

Just run away when there’s an opportunity to make introductions with just the guy I wanna talk to? Stacy thought. Not hardly.

“Thank you so much for saving us, Paradox!” Stacy said, giving Paradox an exaggerated, childish hug. “My name’s Stacy, Stacy Watt-Powers!”

Paradox took a half step back and knelt in front of her, the faceplate of his helmet swinging up to reveal the young man she’d seen in her lair half a year ago.

Excellent. Now I just need to gain his confidence and slooooowly pry his knowledge of The Tide out of him. I need to know more about what I saw. I need raw data. Location, date, time, what he saw, what he experienced…. He seems sympathetic to the Android plight, so it shouldn’t be too hard to get him to trust me.

“Nice to meet you, Stacy.” Paradox said as he shook her dainty hand.

***Paradox***

Welp, pretty sure that little girl was Professor Replica. Soul looked way too old for her body, and I’ll never forget how damaged it was, teetering on the edge of falling apart, Perry thought as he attended the meeting of Sweepers and up to debate public policy.

A year of being a super had taught him to play some cards close to the vest. Perry wasn’t going to mention the little girl’s true identity unless she gave him reason to, neither to her nor anyone else. If Professor Replica wanted to try her hand at politics instead of building self-replicating armies capable of wiping out all life on the planet, he was happy for her.

Worst case scenario, he said something, and in an act of desperation, Prof. Replica flipped the table, reverting back to her old ways.

Every day she spent inciting protests and advocating for Android rights was a day she wasn’t creating an unstoppable robot army.

Better to keep the supervillain where he could see her.

Plus if I killed her, she’d probably just migrate to another host. Given that the population of Androids across the major cities is in the millions, she’s functionally immortal.

Perry could tell the other assembled Anchors and Sweepers… He glanced up and scanned the group. They didn’t seem like the ideal people to inform.

“What if we just like…put a badge on every android so everyone would know who was who at a glance?” Freddy Steel suggested.

Solaris sighed directly into the microphone as he rubbed his temples.

“That’s a Nazi thing, Freddy.”

“Does it count if they’re not people?” Quake clarified.

“That’s also a Nazi thing, Quake. We are not Nazis.”

Solaris pushed himself to his feet, drawing the eyes of the assembled supers as he paced back and forth.

“Look. Every high ranking Manitian mage I’ve consulted tell me that these people, and their kids, do have souls. For all intents and purposes, they are a new intelligent species. Regardless of the fact they were made by Professor Replica.”

At the ‘mages’ comment, his gaze lingered on Perry for a moment. It was true, the Androids did have souls, which Perry was fascinated by…and might be factoring into his decision not to spill the beans on the little girl.

“I understand the desire for revenge, believe me, I’ve been fighting this shit for longer than anyone alive, and I’ve lost enough friends to fill a cemetery…but these Androids are people. Innocent people. And I sure as hell am not going to end up on the wrong side of history to satisfy people’s thirst for vengeance on helpless civilians.” Solaris allowed his words to sink in for a moment before another hand rose.

“Maybe we can like…round them all up and house them out in the middle of nowhere, away from everyone? Somewhere secure, with like, guards and stuff?”

“That’s a Nazi thing again!” Solaris roared, pointing at the hapless super. “I didn’t fight and bleed all over France to see myself become Hitler, so sit your ass down and seriously consider how your suggestions will play out first!”

“What if we started building a district for them?” another super suggested.

“They would get shit on for generations. When you concentrate a minority into one spot it generally leads to poverty and crime. It would also be a hotspot for hate crimes.” A man in green spandex countered.

“Best one we got so far.” Solaris said, pointing at him. “Anyone got anything better?”

“What if we build them a city out in the middle of the continent and leave them be? No guards.”

“Then most of them will starve or be killed by mutated wildlife.” Solaris said. “It’s killing them, but slower, and out of sight.”

“I’m comfortable with that,” one of the supers muttered, before Solaris gave him a pointed look that caused him to straighten in his seat.

“We can’t just do nothing?” Chemestro asked with a shrug. “They’re basically just civilians. No threat to us.”

Solaris eyeballed the young Sweeper. “No. the entire city of Franklin is a hairs breadth away from a full-on riot, and we don’t have High Tide, starvation, or a sea of Replicators to keep everyone focused on survival. They’re angry, and they’re not gonna stop being angry for a couple generations. We need to do something to appease them, without being Nazis about it.”

Perry raised his hand, and spoke when Solaris glanced over at him.

“What about trading with Washington city?” Perry asked.

“Explain.”

“Most of the rich and powerful got designer babies from Biomaster over the last forty years, never knowing they were getting Android babies. These children are now in their thirties and forties, in strong positions in Washington business and politics, and their parents are still rich and powerful.”

Perry fished out his phone and showed a video of a young, handsome politician from Washington City advocating fire and brimstone on the Android imposters, then only a few days later, completely changing his tune, mopping up sweat from his forehead as he begged for tolerance.

Likely he’d just found out he was an Android.

“I see…” Solaris muttered. “That could work. I’ll go have a chat with David.”

Solaris blinked out of existence.

“You’re doing so good, sweetie!!” Hexen said, waving from across the massive round table and giving him a thumbs up.

The surrounding supers chuckled, and Freddy Steel gave Perry a pitying back pat.

Perry was the only one present whose mom was on The Council.

“I disagree, not nearly as decisive a decision as is required.” Gramma said. “You need to straighten your back and speak with authority, not slouch and dig through your pockets like a peasant.”

Perry buried his head in his hands.

I guess mom’s mom is here too. That doesn’t make it better.

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