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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

Text

Only Friend

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader [Robin!Jason Todd]

Summary: Gotham mourned for Robin. But who mourned for Jason Todd? Y/F/N Y/L/N wasn’t just another one of Jason Todd’s friends. She was his only friend.

Word Count: 7,000 [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, Death, Loss, Grief

Y/N didn’t know what time it was. She hadn’t opened the blinds in her room for days. And she didn’t plan on doing so anytime soon. In fact, she didn’t plan on getting out of bed anytime soon.

She heard a knock on her bedroom door. From the sound alone, she knew it was her mother.

“Y/N, dear. Can I come in?”

She wanted to say, ‘No.’ She wanted to say, ‘Go away.’ But Y/N didn’t even have the energy to do that. So she just laid still with the covers over her shoulders and said nothing.

Her mom slowly opened the door.

Y/N’s family had been tiptoeing around her since it happened. They didn’t know how to handle the situation. Most parents don’t expect for their daughter’s best friend to die. No child should have to face grief like this.

But Y/N had no choice.

Because Jason Todd was dead.

“Hi, honey,” Y/N’s mother cooed as she walked into the room. Then she placed a plate of food on her nightstand. “I brought you something to eat.”

Y/N didn’t even so much as look at her mother, just continued to stare off into nothing.

“Is it alright if I open of your blinds and windows. I think you could use some fresh air.”

Y/N gave what appeared to be a half shrug, barely visible underneath the thick covers.

But her mother seemed relieved, it was starting to smell musty in the room.

Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Y/N’s face. “The funeral’s tomorrow.”

Y/N’s eyes finally looked up at her mother – desperate and scared. “Do I have to go?”

“I think you’d regret it if you didn’t, honey. You deserve your chance to say goodbye. Your father and I will be there with you.”

Then Y/N closed her eyes and burst into tears. “I had a dream about him last night. And I woke up and remembered–” she had to pause to catch her breath. “I-I-I remembered he’s g-gone.”

“Oh, honey,” her mom whispered as she pulled Y/N into her arms. “I know you miss him. I know. He was your best friend.”

Y/N pulled away and looked up at her mom. “He was my only friend,” she corrected.

———

Jason Todd was sitting at a lunch table by himself and reading when someone slammed their tray down across from him. His eyes flickered up in a glare, already expecting someone to try and pick a fight with him or something.

But instead he found a girl standing above him, smirking down at him.

No, not just any girl, the prettiest girl in their grade. No one else at this stupid school seemed to think so. But that just further proved Jason’s theory that everyone here were idiots.

“Hi,” she said confidently.

“H-Hi?” Jason stuttered back.

“I’m sitting with you,” she announced as she sat down. “I’m Y/N.”

Jason finally smirked and remained confused. “I know who you are…”

“You’ve never talked to me, so how was I supposed to know?” Y/N said back. “And you’re Jason Todd.”

“Yes?” He responded.

Y/N laughed at his confusion.

Jason Todd wasn’t popular. There was a disconnect between him and his peers. The kids at Gotham Academy were trust-fund babies and spoiled brats. They were such snobs that there were even cliques separating the kids who came from old money from those who came from new money. It all seemed ridiculous after literally starving in the slums of the city.

Jason Todd wasn’t a rebel. He didn’t lash out or let his inability to connect to the other students make him feel down. Ask any teacher who had him and they would say he was a straight-A student and he never once caused trouble in their class. He was always polite and respectful, responsible and well-behaved.

Jason Todd wasn’t bullied. Maybe it was a vibe he gave off, but somehow the other kids knew not to mess with him. Jason came to school with a black eye once, and he always wondered if it freaked them all out enough to never try to mess with him – not that they would ever stand a chance against him.

In regards to the middle school hierarchy, Jason was nobody.

Because Jason Todd wasn’t really a kid. He just had the misfortune of also not being an adult yet.

He was just a poor punk from the Narrows, who just happened to try and steal the tires off the car of Gotham’s notorious vigilante. He didn’t belong at this snobby prep school.

But going to school was one of Bruce’s demands after making Jason his new Robin.

Jason just didn’t know how to make a convincing argument for why he didn’t need social interactions with kids his own age.

“Is this some kind of dare?” Jason asked Y/N.

She froze her eating and scoffed at him. “You’ve watched too many bad teen movies. What kind of asshole would I be to do something like that?”

But Jason still looked around the cafeteria, expecting to find a table full of people watching this interaction and trying to hide their giggles.

Y/N finally slammed down her food, sat back, and crossed her arms. “People at this school suck.”

“Uhh…OK?”

“I saw you reading Pride & Prejudice the other week. And you were wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt yesterday. You helped pick up Jill’s stuff when her backpack ripped open, while everyone else just laughed.” She paused. But Jason waited. “What I’m saying is that I’ve decided that you don’t suck.”

“Oh,” Jason blurted out.

“Do you honestly think anyone at this school even knows who Jane Austen is? And some dude in my English class tried to tell me Nickelback was his favorite band.”

Jason laughed at that. “How did you even respond to that?”

“I asked him if he was fucking with me and then the teacher yelled at me for swearing. And I told her, ‘How am I supposed to react to a Nickelback fan without using profanities?’”

Jason laughed again.

That was how Jason and Y/N became best friends. That was all it took.

Jason would soon find out that Y/N didn’t belong here just as much as him. She didn’t come from money – just your normal, middle-class suburban family. She’d won a full-ride scholarship to Gotham Academy, which was impressive since they only handed out one per grade.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne made one 30-second call and Jason was accepted – no questions asked.

Y/N was rather mature for her age, but it wasn’t the product of being Batman’s sidekick and fighting the criminals of Gotham City.

—

Any second Jason had to be a normal kid was spent hanging out with Y/N. Jason was at Y/N’s house all the time, loving Y/N’s parents and envious of the stable home Y/N got to grow up in.

It took awhile for Jason to feel comfortable inviting Y/N to the manor, despite Alfred saying he was welcome to have friends over whenever he wished. Jason eventually got over his embarrassment. While Y/N seemed in awe of Wayne Manor, the evidence of Jason’s wealth didn’t make her treat him any different. They mostly hung out in Jason’s room anyways. Or in the kitchen when Alfred made them snacks.

While they were at school, they always ate lunch together and walked to classes shoulder-to-shoulder any chance they got. They only needed each other.

They ignored everyone else. And in return, everyone else left them alone.

For the most part.

—

Jason should’ve known something was wrong when he heard the commotion on his way to third period.

When he heard kids start chanting “Fight!” his gut somehow knew Y/N was involved.

Jason shoved his way through the thick circle that was surrounding the drama.

He reached the opening just in time to see Y/N tackle a boy named Parker to the ground. The crowd gasped, not actually expecting them to actually go through with violence. Then Y/N lifted her fist and landed a punch to Parker’s face.

But Jason quickly stepped forward and pulled Y/N off.

“He’s not worth it, Y/N.”

Recognizing the voice of her best friend, Y/N allowed him to pull her away.

“Gonna let your boyfriend pull you away?” Parker yelled out.

Y/N whipped back toward him, but Jason wrapped his arms around her and held her back. “Y/N, leave it!”

“I’m not the one with the a black eye and bloodied nose, asshole!” Y/N screamed, only half fighting Jason’s hold. “Next time, I’ll kick you so hard in your tiny dick that you won’t be able to have kids.”

Jason managed to drag her through the halls with a vice-like grip on her hand.

Y/N scoffed at his efforts, “Where are you even taking me?”

“We’re ditching class.”

She shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

Jason knew exactly what exit didn’t have an alarmed rigged to it or any video surveillance. He also grabbed a cellphone in his back pocket and started to type frantically.

“You have a cellphone! What? Since when? My parents said I can’t get one until high school,” Y/N groaned enviously.

Little did she know, Jason had set up an AI system that would call the school with Bruce’s voice and leave a recording about how Jason needed to be dismissed from school. It was perfect for Bat emergencies.

He had added Y/N’s parents voices to the algorithm a few months ago, having a hunch it would come in handy.

As soon as they were a safe distance away from the school, Y/N let go of Jason’s hand and walked slightly ahead of him.

With their freedom secured, Jason could focus on Y/N now.

“What did he do?” He asked her gently.

Y/N was smart and calculated. If she’d picked a fight with someone, Jason knew it had to have been caused by something serious.

“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled.

Jason rushed forward and stopped her walking. “Hey, come on. It’s me you’re talking to…”

Y/N nodded, knowing he was right. They told each other everything, or so she thought.

Her eyes went to the ground, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “We were in health class. Today was the unfortunate lesson for learning male and female anatomy. Mrs. Martin started talking about…” Y/N hesitated. “She started talking about boobs. Said something about when girls start seeing a change.”

“And?” Jason urged softly.

“Parker chimed in and said, ‘Or if you’re Y/L/N… never.’”

Embarrassed by her confession, Y/N started walking again – quicker, this time.

Jason jogged to catch up to her. “Fuck him. Only a loser asshole would say something like that.”

“Well…he’s probably right.”

Jason shrugged. “Who cares?”

This time Y/N stopped walking. “You don’t get it,” she snapped. “Every girl in our grade is growing up. And I still have the chest of a boy. My mom won’t even let me buy a bra because she says I don’t need it yet.”

Jason was speechless.

To be honest, he had never really noticed. Y/N wore baggy band t-shirts or flannels all the time. He wasn’t exactly studying her silhouette when they hung out. But he never imagined that Y/N would be bothered by something like that.

“Sometimes I’d just like to…I don’t fucking know…feel like a girl.” She paused. “A pretty girl,” she emphasized.

Jason stared into her eyes. “You are a pretty girl.”

Y/N sighed and rolled her eyes. “J, you don’t have to say that.”

“I’m serious. You’re the prettiest girl in our grade, Y/N.”

That caught her off guard. He’d never said anything like that to her before.

Sure, Jason said nice things to her. But it was usually him complimenting her taste in music or thanking her for showing him a new book he loved. But he’d never called her pretty before.

Jason, worried that he’d exposed himself, pulled her to him so he could give her a noogie. And the moment was broken.

“Jason! I think I’ve proved today that I will hit a bitch!”

He just laughed and playfully shoved her away. “Come on. I’ll buy you one of those embarrassing frappuccinos from Starbucks.”

“Excuse you! They’re not embarrassing. They’re delicious.”

Jason could tell Y/N didn’t want to talk about the fight anymore. So he thought distracting her was the next best thing.

And, by some miracle, they returned to school the next day without any punishment.

But Jason wasn’t done yet.

Parker didn’t realize he was messing with Robin’s best friend.

Jason was patient. He waited for the precise moment when Parker would be alone.

A week after the fight, Parker turned the corner of an empty hallway and jumped when he nearly ran into Jason.

“What do you want, Todd?”

Jason took a step toward him and lowered his voice, “If you ever say anything like that to Y/N again – or to any girl, for that matter – I won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you.”

Parker side eyed him. “Yeah, right.”

Without hesitating, Jason reached forward, grabbed Parkers palm, and snapped the index finger of his dominant hand.

Parker let out a screech of pain and fell to his knees.

Jason kneeled down to whisper in his ear, “No witnesses. No cameras. And I’m actually in gym class right now, running the mile. No one will believe you.”

Parker looked up at Jason like he was a madman.

Jason smiled and patted him on the head. “Remember what I said.”

After that, Parker never even so much as looked in Y/N’s direction.

—

Jason and Y/N looked out for each other, protected each other

And Jason may have kept his other life of Robin from her, but Y/N seemed to already sense that there was something Jason was hiding. It wasn’t just something, it was dark.

When Y/N started noticing bruises and cuts on Jason’s body, she grew concerned. But she wanted to observe and think of all the possibilities before she ever brought it up.

Then one day at her house, she made a joke and slapped Jason playfully on the back.

He hissed uncontrollably and his entire body froze.

“Jason?” Y/N asked with concern.

“I’m fine. You just surprised me and knocked the wind out of me,” Jason said hurriedly.

But Y/N wasn’t stupid. She quickly grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and ripped it up so she could see his back.

“JASON! What the fuck!” She gasped in horror as she saw the bruises scattered across his skin. She had never seen anything like it.

“Shh!” Jason tried to calm her to stop her parents from coming in and then having her immediately showing them too.

“What happened?” Y/N whispered, her eyes glazed over with tears.

“Nothing. I’m fine, Y/N. I promise.”

“You’re not fine. And this isn’t the first time,” Y/N countered. “You think you do a good job of hiding them, but I see the other bruises and cuts, Jason. And don’t think I don’t notice how often you skip school because your ‘sick.’”

Jason stayed quiet. He didn’t want to lie to her. But he couldn’t tell her. It could put her in danger. And if Bruce ever found out, he’d put a stop to the whole thing. Jason would never be Robin ever again.

“He does it,” Y/N whispered.

Jason blinked. “Who?”

“Bruce,” she clarified. “He beats you, doesn’t he?”

Jason’s eyes widened in horror. He knew Y/N was weary of his adoptive father. She noticed how absent he was from Jason’s life, then took note of how cold he was when he was present. But her theory made perfect sense. And if the roles were reversed, Jason probably would’ve come to the same conclusion.

“Y/N, Bruce has never hurt me.”

She frowned. “You don’t have to protect him. And you don’t have to take his shit. I knew something was off about him ever since I met him. But I didn’t think it was this.”

“Y/N…” Jason began.

“Does Alfred know?” She couldn’t imagined him every letting something like this happen if he did. Y/N had grown to love Alfred almost as much as Jason.

“There’s nothing for him to know, Y/N.” Jason laughed. “I was trying to walk across the railing above the great hall and fell and landed on my back. I didn’t tell you because I was embarrassed, OK?”

He knew from Y/N’s face that she wasn’t convinced. But she also knew not to push someone who was in the position she thought Jason was.

But to his horror, tears started falling.

“I just…I want you know that I’d do anything for you. You can live here! My parents love you and they’d take you in! Or-or-or we can run away together – just you and me.”

Jason hated seeing her cry. She rarely ever did it. And to know he was the cause made him feel sick.

Not knowing what else to do, Jason pulled her into a hug.

“I’m OK, Y/N. Promise. You don’t have to worry about me. Please don’t cry.”

“We just have to steal some of the stupid jewelry he has laying around and we’d be set for life,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

Jason laughed and pulled away. “Bruce took me in. Gave me a better life. He’s protected me. I know you don’t believe me, but the bruises aren’t because of him.”

Y/N wiped the tears away sloppily and nodded, but they both knew that Y/N didn’t believe him.

Y/N didn’t look at Bruce the same since that day. Not that she spent a lot of time around him.

But Bruce shared a look with Jason when he received the first very harsh glare from the pre-teen girl. It ended with a very uncomfortable conversation between Bruce and Jason where the boy explained what theory Y/N had come to.

Though Bruce said very little in response, he was wracked with guilt. To learn that someone thought he had the potential to behold the evil he tried so hard to eradicate in the world? It made Bruce sick to his stomach.

———

Now Y/N stood with her head hung low, in a crowd dressed in black.

These people didn’t know Jason Todd. Maybe they played the part of mourning funeral goer well. But Y/N saw their performances still.

The only people Y/N recognized were Bruce Wayne, Alfred, and Jason’s older brother, Dick Grayson. She’d never met him before, only seen pictures of him around the manor. Jason always seemed disappointed when Y/N brought Dick up or tried to ask about him. Y/N got the impression that he wasn’t all that great of a brother to Jason. Especially when it was obvious Jason looked up to him and was desperate for some sort of fraternal relationship.

Y/N looked up at her mother when the priest was finished with whatever he was saying. His words were impersonal, sullied by religion, and did nothing to comfort Y/N. He didn’t even say one thing about what made Jason so great.

“Can we go now?” She whispered to her mother.

She patted Y/N’s back. “There’s a gathering inside the house now. We should say our condolences to Mr. Wayne and Alfred.”

Y/N frowned at that. The last person she wished to talk to was Bruce Wayne.

She had been watching the man through the entire service. He was stoic and collected. There didn’t seem to be any sadness to be found in his eyes.

The longer Y/N watched him, the angrier she became.

“Please, let’s just go,” Y/N begged her mother.

People were making there way into the manor now and weren’t paying any attention to a girl, despite the fact that she was the best and only friend of the boy they were pretending to mourn.

Her mother gave her a sympathetic look. “Honey, don’t you want to say hi to Alfred. I’m sure it would make him happy to see you.”

Y/N knew her mother was right. She could do that for Alfred. Plus, he gave the best hugs, and Y/N could sure use one of them right now.

They waited in a sort of informal line. Y/N wanted to hit everyone in front of them as she was forced to listen to their empty and rehearsed sympathies. Bruce didn’t say much in return, simply thanking each of them.

But when Y/N and her parents were finally up, Bruce Wayne’s expression shifted.

It was the first time Y/N saw any sort of emotion from the man. He looked heartbroken at the sight of Y/N, who’s hand was tightly gripping her mothers.

Bruce, standing at 6’2, knelt down to be at Y/N’s eye level.

“Hello, Y/N.” He greeted quietly so no one lingering around them could hear.

Y/N only glared at him.

If she were being honest, she was surprised he even remembered her name.

But Bruce continued. “Thank you for coming today. I’m sure the past few days haven’t been easy for you.”

Then he cleared his throat. And Y/N’s brow furrowed at the sound. Was he trying to hold back tears? No, that couldn’t be possible.

“I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to Jason. He talked about you all the time. I’m glad he had someone like you in his life.”

Y/N felt nauseous at how genuine Bruce Wayne’s words sounded. His eyes were even more sincere.

What happened to the cold and distance man she’d had little to no interaction with?

‘He has an audience now,’ Y/N told herself. ‘He knows everyone’s watching. He’s performing just like the rest of them.’

“What did you do to him?” Y/N finally whispered to him.

Where she got the courage to speak to an adult in such a way, she had no idea – especially one as powerful as Bruce Wayne.

Bruce tensed at her question. Was that hurt in his eyes?

“Y/N!” Her mother hissed down at her.

“It was you. I know it was,” Y/N muttered as her lips trembled and tears started falling. She thought she’d run out of tears, but this was her final outburst.

“Y/N, enough!” Her mother hissed again and then made eye contact with Bruce and Alfred. “I’m so sorry. She’s not…she’s not handling any of this well.”

“You did this to him!” Y/N yelled. “He always had bruises…and-and-and cuts! You used to hurt him!”

“Y/N!” Her father finally chimed in, completely stunned by his daughter’s accusations.

“I hate you!” Y/N screamed in Bruce’s face as tears flowed down her face.

With that, she ripped her hand from her mom’s grasp and made a run for it. She heard her parents yell her name, but she ignored it and kept running.

Bruce stood up, looking unfazed from Y/N’s hateful and accusatory outburst.

“We are so, so sorry,” Y/N’s mom insisted. “She’s never done anything like that before.”

Bruce held up a hand, stopping them from continuing. “It’s alright. Really.” Then he sighed. “I’ll have Alfred go find her in a bit. Perhaps she just needs to let out some steam.”

Y/N didn’t even realize where she was running until she ended up at Jason’s bedroom.

Her entire body shook with sobs as she opened up the door.

It looked exactly the same, like nothing had even happened.

Y/N walked to the other side and slide against the giant windows, curling into a ball on the floor with her arms hugging her knees to her chest.

She cried and she cried and she cried.

There was no way for her to know how long she’d been there. But her head snapped up when there was a knock on the doorframe.

Dick Grayson leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed and a sad smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he greeted softly.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed the snot from her nose with the back of her fist, “Hi.”

“I’m Dick,” he introduced as he closed the door behind him and sat on the foot of Jason’s bed, making sure to give Y/N her space.

“I know,” Y/N answered back through a stuffy nose.

“Alfred tells me you and Jason were good friends.”

“We were each other’s only friend,” Y/N corrected him.

Dick nodded slowly.

“I hate him,” Y/N mumbled.

Dick winced. “Jason?”

“Bruce.”

“Believe it or not, I know how that feels,” he sighed.

“Did he hit you, too?” Y/N asked with wide eyes.

Dick opened his mouth, but was so shocked by the question that no words escaped.

“Why didn’t you help him?” She followed up with. “Where were you?”

Dick knew she wasn’t asking what he felt like she was: Why didn’t you stop the Joker? Why was Robin all alone? Why didn’t Batman call you for help?

But that didn’t stop her interrogation from hurting him.

“I haven’t always been there for him,” Dick finally admitted. “Actually…I’ve never really been there for him.”

Y/N looked at him with bewilderment. “Umm…” she sniffed. “I should find my parents.”

When she stood up, something caught her attention on Jason’s desk.

Y/N’s hand shook as she picked up Pride & Prejudice. He was the only middle school boy she’s ever seen reading a Jane Austen book. It was one of the reasons she wanted to befriend him in the first place.

“Keep it,” Dick surprised her by saying.

She quickly turned around and gave him a questioning look.

“You should keep it,” he told her. Then he looked at the overflowing book case she was standing near. “Take whatever ones want. He’d want you to have them.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered through the bookcase. Her heart was telling her, ‘No, they’re his books. He’ll need them when he gets back.’ But Jason Todd wasn’t coming back.

So she reached up and grabbed Jane Eyre and then Frankenstein.

“That’s it?” Dick asked. Because he would’ve let her take Jason’s entire collection.

Y/N nodded shyly.

Dick escorted her through the house and back to the gathering.

When she saw Alfred, Y/N rushed forward.

Dick’s heart ached as he saw the butler immediately kneel down and pull Y/N into a hug. He wondered what the man whispered to her. Whatever it was, it seemed to comfort her in a way that apparently nothing else was.

Then Y/N’s parents returned to her side. Dick expected them to scold her for her earlier outburst, but they just seemed concerned and started making their leave.

Y/N looked behind her and searched through the crowd to find Dick again. When she did, she gave him a sad wave.

Dick returned it with a sorrowful smile.

———

8 Years Later...

Jason had been keeping tabs on her since he returned to Gotham. He kept his distance, remained out of sight. He would jump from rooftop to rooftop as she walked home from a night class. Or he would wait for the window of her apartment bedroom to go off if it was a slow night of patrolling.

He told himself it was out of curiosity. But he knew deep down he was making sure she stayed safe.

Jason was happy to see that Y/N didn’t retain her lonesome ways in her life after his death. He frequently spotted her having dinner or drinks with friends.

But Jason didn’t know how to feel when it was clear that Y/N had no romantic partner. Was he relieved? Was he irritated that someone didn’t love and care for her the way she deserved? Would he have been jealous if there was someone in his life?

Jason wanted to find her as soon as he was brought from the dead. Even when he felt like he’d gone insane, when his thoughts didn’t make sense and he was confused…her face still echoed through his mind.

But vengeance became his priority.

And with it, Jason slowly convinced himself that it was best to stay far away from the only person he still cared about.

But that didn’t mean her didn’t want answers still.

After his war with Bruce – or really, his attempted murder Batman and the Joker – Jason allowed himself to actually look back on his old life, the parts that didn’t involve being a child vigilante.

Still not on speaking terms with Bruce. Jason decided to get his info from another source.

Cue a month or so after his brush with Bruce, Jason blindsided Dick the next time he was in Gotham and slammed him against the closest brick wall.

Jason used to look up to Dick as a kid, despite his older brother rarely even giving him the time of day.

But now, Dick was quite literally looking up at Jason.

While Jason died a 13-year-old Robin, he was now a 6’3 man who had the set of a heavyweight boxer. Dick might be more flexible and acrobatic, but Jason had brute strength.

“What? B tell all of you not to talk to me?” Jason challenged when Dick didn’t fight his hold or speak to him.

“What do you want?” Dick asked evenly.

“Why did you keep tabs on her?” Jason growled, his voice distorted through his helmet.

“Keep tabs on who?”

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

Dick finally had enough of being bullied and shoved Jason’s grip off him. “Why don’t you look her up yourself? I’m sure you have no issue with hacking every personal database of hers.”

“That’s not why I’m asking,” Jason growled.

In fact, Jason had already done everything Dick had suggested. Which made him see that she had made a third-party domestic violence report to the police a week or so after Jason had died. And she had kept following up with it until the police finally came clean and told her there was no evidence to support her claim and she was wasting her time.

It seemed Y/N was the only person that fought for Jason after he was gone. She had just picked the wrong fight.

“Why did you keep tabs on her?” Jason clarified.

“I just wanted to make sure she was OK.”

That caught him off guard a bit, seeing as Dick never gave a shit about Jason when he was alive. So why would he look after his best friend?

“What? Out of the goodness of your heart?” Jason ridiculed.

“She didn’t handle your death well, Jason. She even picked a fight with Bruce at your funeral.”

Jason smirked behind the safety of his helmet at the image.

Dick sighed and finally put down his defenses. “I failed you, Jason. All of us failed you.” He shook his head as he got lost in a memory. “Y/N even asked me why I hadn’t tried harder to protect you.”

Dick’s eyes saddened. “I figured if I couldn’t be there for you, the least I could do was make sure the most important person in your life was OK.”

It wasn’t the answer Jason was suspecting, but it was all he came for.

“Will you go see her?” Dick asked as he saw that Jason was about to take his leave.

“We were kids. Things have changed,” Jason grunted.

“I don’t think any of that would matter to her,” Dick defended. “I think she’d like to see you and know you’re OK.”

“Mind your business,” was the last thing Jason snapped at him before jumping off the rooftop and disappearing.

————

Jason did what he said: he left Y/N alone.

He watched over her when he could. But most importantly, he didn’t drop a ghost from the past back into her life.

But he also tried to find that ghost in himself.

Somedays he thought that Jason Todd was lost forever.

But other days, like today, he still seemed to live on.

Jason browsed through the books on the shelves. He missed so many of them when he was dead and then when he reinvented himself.

Now he saw books as a time to fill in the empty space.

He was lost reading the back of covers when he heard it. No, when he heard her.

Next thing Jason knew, he was walking toward it.

“I’m sorry, dear. We’re all sold out of that title. You should’ve reserved it weeks ago,” one of the clerks told her with sympathy.

Jason peered between the shelves and caught a glimpse of y/h/c.

“I know. I just totally spaced. I think I’ll just browse for something else. Thank you for your help.”

Her voice sounded mostly the same, maybe a bit more mature. But he still would recognize it anywhere.

Jason knew he shouldn’t move any closer.

But he couldn’t help himself.

He was just one aisle away from her now, only a bookshelf separating them.

He slowly edged around the corner and smiled as he saw the massive pile of books that Y/N was trying to juggle in her arms. When she tried adding one more, they broke free from her grasp and stumbled loudly to the ground.

Jason didn’t know what he was thinking as he jumped forward and bent down to help her pick them up.

He saw her blush, but keep her head dipped from the embarrassment.

“Thank you,” she quickly laughed as she tried to pile the books back together as fast as possible.

Y/N opened her mouth to say more, but the words got caught in her mouth when she finally met Jason’s eyes.

He wondered how different he looked to her. Could she even recognize him? Or was he fooling himself when he became convinced he was an entirely different person after being brought back from the dead?

But his questions were answered when Y/N looked in shock, only unfreezing when her eyes began to tear up.

“It’s not possible,” she said so quietly that it was barely a whisper.

“Everyone good? I heard a loud noise.” The clear interrupted loudly.

Y/N jumped in response.

Jason stood and faced the clerk, “We’re fine.”

But when he turned back around, Y/N had booked it.

“Fuck,” Jason hissed before carefully handing the books to the clerk and quickly following after Y/N.

She made it further than he would expect. He actually had to look around the streets outside the store for a moment before he could spot her.

As soon as he did, he ran. But he called her name before he reached her to make sure he didn’t terrify her more.

Y/N froze when she heard him and whipped around. “Who are you?” She asked roughly.

There was a moment, when she first met Jason’s blue eyes, where she allowed herself to believe that perhaps a miracle had occurred.

But now she only saw this as some sort of heinous prank.

“It’s me, Y/N.” Jason almost sounded like he was begging her.

She then fully took him in. Yes, he had the same face. But now he was a full-grown man – and an extremely handsome one at that.

“I shouldn’t have spooked you like that. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been dead for 8 years,” she muttered.

“I know. It’s a…” Jesus. Jason didn’t even know how to go about this. “It’s a long and complicated story.”

“Were you ever really dead?” Then Y/N’s eyes flashed with a realization. “Did you stage your death? To get away from him?”

Bruce. She meant to get away from Bruce.

Jason looked around. This was no place to have this conversation. He couldn’t believe they were having it at all.

“Fuck. OK.” He quickly shuffled through his pockets until he found an old paper receipt and a pen. He quickly wrote something down.

“I know this is…a lot.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded Y/N of the Jason she used to know. “If you want nothing to do with me, I understand. You’ll never have to see me again.”

He took in a deep breath and handed her the receipt.

Y/N slowly took it and looked down to see a phone number written down.

“You deserve time and space to…” he couldn’t find the right word, “process all of this.”

Y/N watched him as if she was expecting him to vanish like some sort of hallucination.

“After you do,” Jason continued. “If you’re willing to hear me out, I’ll be there,” he told her sincerely as he gestured to the number Y/N now held in her hand.

He waited for Y/N to say something, or maybe even try to make a run for her life.

But after what felt like forever, Y/N gave a short nod.

Jason gave her a shy grin as he slowly started walking backwards. He hesitated saying one last thing for her. But his mind finally told him, ‘Fuck it.’

“I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

————

Jason told himself not to get his hopes up. Y/N had every right to be horrified by him and wish to never see him again. From what Dick described, Y/N hadn’t handled Jason’s death well at all. What child could?

But when Jason got a text from Y/N’s number a week later, asking him to come to her place, he couldn’t help but beam.

Except reality then quickly settled in. And it reminded Jason that this conversation would involve talking about his past for the first time.

‘Suck it up. She deserves to know,’ he heard his past self screaming in his mind.

An hour later, Jason was knocking on Y/N’s apartment door.

“Hi,” she greeted stiffly.

“Hi.”

She led him to her bedroom. “My roommates aren’t home right now. But who knows how long that’ll last.”

Jason didn’t stop himself from looking around. Maybe it was a habit, all of his training of taking in every new environment with acute detail. But really Jason just wanted to take in Y/N and her new life.

That’s when he spotted the three books.

Jason immediately reached for one of them.

“Oh,” Y/N said sadly as she saw what he grabbed. “Umm…Dick told me I could take those. He…umm…said you’d want me to have them.”

“You kept them all this time?” He muttered, still looking at Pride & Prejudice.

“Of course.” Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. “You can have them back. I mean, they’re yours after all.”

Jason smirked at her fumbling. “No, keep ‘em.”

Then the tension from this strange reunion returned to the room.

Y/N gave him a heartbroken look and sat on the edge of her bed. “Jason,” she whispered, “what the hell happened to you?”

Jason slowly joined her on the bed.

His breathing shook as he tried to prepare.

But Y/N deserved to know the truth – the whole truth.

So he told her everything. He told her he was Robin. He told her how he died. He told her how he came back to life. He told her where he’d been.

The only thing he left out was how she was all he could think about when he watched the bomb tick down to 0 and he knew he was about to die.

But the hardest part was explaining why returning to her wasn’t the first thing he did.

“It wasn’t Bruce. It…you…you were Robin that whole time?” Y/N couldn’t even seem to process it.

Jason just gave a curt nod.

“I reported him,” Y/N gasped. “I was convinced he had something to do with your death.”

Jason winced at that. “Well, if you asked him, I’m sure he’d take responsibility for it still.”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over as she tried to take another look at the past now that she knew the real truth that had been hidden. So many things made sense: all the injuries, Bruce’s behavior, Dick being a distant brother – all of it.

“Y/N,” Jason whispered. Her eyes whipped to his. “I’m so sorry for leaving you like that.”

Y/N finally allowed herself to cry. “Missing you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Jason didn’t care about keeping his distance any longer. He pulled Y/N into his arms, just like he used to when they were kids.

Eventually, her crying slowed and Jason knew he needed to finally say the hardest thing about this all.

“But I can’t stay, Y/N.”

Y/N wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“I’m not…I’m not that kid anymore. I’ve done things – terrible things – that won’t ever let me return to the person you knew.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N said surprisingly harsh.

“What?”

“I said I don’t care,” even though she knew he heard her. “You think I’m the same person after 8 years, Jason? You think that little girl didn’t face the consequences of losing the best friend she’s ever had?”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that.

Y/N wiped away her tears and her entire body shifted. “From everything you’ve told me, you don’t seem to have many friends – if any. So, sounds like you could use one.”

How could Jason have overlooked Y/N’s stubbornness when he anticipated how this would all end?

“I lost you once. I’m not losing you again. Especially not with all I know now,” she added.

Jason didn’t even bother fighting her on it. Y/N had always been his greatest weakness. At least he knew that hadn’t changed.

“OK.” He agreed. “So what now?”

Y/N smiled at his surrender. “Now…we have a whole lot of catching up to do.”

--------------------

Wow. I did not realize how long this was going to take me.

Please, please, please let me know what you think. Reactions and feedback and reblogs are the only thing that keep me writing on here.

#batfam #batman family #jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #batfam reader insert #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #batman universe #batman fandom #dc universe #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert

655 notes · View notes

itsuki-minamy · 4 years

Text

“SIX IDOLS”

CHAPTER 5: “NAGARE.02” (Complete)

* K - Six Idols (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"Emerald smoke for you..."

Hearing the familiar voice, Sukuna Gojo raised his face.

A scrambled intersection in Shizume where many people come and go. It projected a familiar face onto a huge screen that dominated him. It was a popular idol, Mishakuji Yukari, who belongs to the same unofficial office as Sukuna, "Jungle Pro".

"A stranger in the mirror. Yes, that's true. That's you."

As he waits for the traffic light, he looks up in amazement.

He knew he was in a cosmetic commercial, but Yukari uses feminine cosmetics by all means. Sukuna thinks that even though he is a decent man, it is amazing that he does not feel any discomfort in such commercials.

"Oh, it's Yukari-sama! I have to take a picture!"

"It's true, me too! I'll miss the points!"

A couple of women waiting for a stoplight with Sukuna hastily pulled out their PDAs and pointed them at the screen. They were probably users of "Jungle", the official application of "Jungle Pro". You can get various benefits by photographing the idol it belongs to and posting it on SNS. Sukuna relaxed before the two people who were continuously photographing while making a fuss about it.

One of them suddenly turned to Sukuna.

When he thought about it, he had perfect eye contact. The woman's eyes widened in the blink of an eye. A woman's voice is launched at Sukuna's back, who puts the hoodie back on and returns.

"Maybe Sukuna-kun?! A lie?! I can't see you here!"

Sukuna glared at Yukari on the screen with resentment.

"You have to take good care of your fans, Sukuna-chan. We idols have fans, so remember what Yukari once said."

"Hey, look at me! If possible, with the screen in the background! It's definitely a high point to be able to photograph two people together!"

The woman got excited and approached Sukuna while she held her PDA. The moment he turned his face, he could see the flash burning. That was not very pleasant.

Several options occurred to his, and Sukuna finally decided to stick with his beliefs rather than Yukari's words.

In other words, he turned around and ran away.

"Oh, wait!"

There was nothing to look forward to. Still, he was shocked because the women pursued him with all their might.

Whether they want that many points or are Sukuna fans, Sukuna got into a back alley.

"Hey, wait a minute."

That woman chased him to that point. Although she had no shoes or clothes that would make it easy to run in, she had a lot of guts and wrapped her tongue inside. However, he was sorry for running too much, so Sukuna decided to go "upstairs".

The left and right are the walls of the building. Sukuna kicked the left wall and jumped, clambered up the rain gutter using the outdoor unit as a trampoline, attached herself to the emergency stairs, and looked down.

The woman forgot to hold her PDA and looked at Sukuna in a daze.

Like a fan service at least, Sukuna looked down and stuck his tongue out making a face.

"Tsu!"

By the time the woman hastily took her PDA, Sukuna had already climbed the emergency stairs to the roof of the building.

At that moment, Sukuna's PDA rang with a ringtone. Sukuna took it and straddled the air conditioning duct.

"Sukuna, the fans must appreciate you."

Hisui Nagare, the "Green Idol King", said such a thing.

Sukuna pursed his lips. A security network with surveillance cameras is established in Shizume. With Nagare's "Idol King" ability, it's easy to break into that network.

However, if it is said that it is the skill that an idol must have, there is no choice but to squint.

"I know, so I guess I rounded it up early."

As he sat on the chute, he pursed his mouth further, showing his annoyance. At the tumbled intersection, the images changed, and Misaki Yata from "Homura" began to perform a new number of popular idols.

"If you sign or shake hands in such a place, a lot of people will come to you. Even my fans, even those guys. If that's the case, I thought it would be better to run away quickly."

"I see. That may be the case. I understand."

"Hmm?" That was the first time he thought about it.

Somehow, he felt that something was wrong with Nagare's response. There was nothing unnatural in the conversation, but with the usual Nagare, there are two more things that can be pointed out philosophically.

"By the way, Sukuna. It was time for your game to go live. Do I have to prepare?"

A feeling of strangeness again.

The game commentary is a syndication event that Sukuna regularly hosts on the video publishing site "MORIMORI Video" operated by "Jungle Pro". Proceed with new and old games by trial and error. Playing is popular, especially with young people, and has garnered a considerable number of viewers. No wonder Nagare, the operator, worries about it.

"Did you say it was postponed during this time? I tweeted and listeners should know."

"It's true, that was the case. I understand."

After all, something was wrong. Nagare would never forget such a thing.

"Hey, Nagare? Haven't you been weird for a while?"

"What do you mean weird?"

"What is it? It's like a machine. Well, I always say you talk like a machine, but today it's more likely than ever."

There was silence for a few seconds. The feeling of strangeness became even greater. Is Nagare really on the other end of this call? A question like that suddenly came to Sukuna's mind.

"I didn't hear you right, please try again."

"You're not crazy, are you?"

The moment he yelled, he dropped the call. Sukuna opened his eyes and looked at the PDA screen. He had goose bumps around the back of his neck.

There was an incoming call again. He shrugged and stared at the screen for a few seconds, without answering the call.

"Eh?"

"It took you about 2 minutes to find out. Some experimental results were obtained. Thank you."

"……"

There was "emotion" in the depths of that voice. At least it sounded like that.

This Nagare is "real".

Maybe.

"Explain yourself."

Nagare spoke clearly at Sukuna's words, which include anger.

"I was telling you about 'Nagare.02' earlier."

"Nagare, what is that?"

"Well, it is a multifunctional artificial intelligence that tracks my own thoughts and voice, that is, AI, which I have secretly developed for a long time. Since the alpha version was completed earlier, I tried to speak to a person who knows me well by the moment."

"You are amazing?"

No, it is not. He really should get mad. He should make a complaint about being forced to experiment without warning.

Although he knew that, he still couldn't suppress the admiration and respect that springs from the bottom of his heart. Sukuna quickly asked a question.

"No, I didn't understand anything! The voice was natural, he could speak correctly and I thought it was fake, but I never imagined it was not human. What? That AI can do that?"

"Still, it was detected in 2 minutes. There is still room for improvement."

"No, it took me two minutes to figure out even that...?"

Given that, he was a bit disappointed. Sukuna believes that Nagare is a friend and understands him, but when he asks if he is more than the other two, he doesn't feel safe.

"Did you try it on Iwa-san and Yukari?"

"No, that's about to start. Sukuna, would you like us to monitor it together?"

A small smile reached Sukuna's mouth.

The humiliation of being stunned was eased, all he has to do is turn to the side where he placed it.

"Sure! I can't wait to see how they react!"

He wishes had bought more time, with that wish, Sukuna had great control.

++++++++++

"Oh, you two were planning that?"

In the underground space, commonly known as "Secret Base", which is the headquarters of "Jungle Pro".

As he gracefully relaxed, Mishakuji Yukari laughed.

"……"

Sukuna was in a bad mood. On the other hand, Nagare was only facing the front in a wheelchair.

"Yes. The ones who know me best are the best members of "Jungle Pro", you guys. Feedback in conversations with you will help "Nagare.02" evolve even more. I'm impressed."

"Okay, weren't you fooled by that thing?"

As he opened the beer can with a pleasant noise, Iwafune Tenkei pierced Sukuna's heart.

"Fufu, I'm sorry to say that, Iwa-san. Sukuna-chan didn't understand for two minutes."

"Oh? 2 minutes? It took so long, is that normal?"

"I have recorded the conversation at that time. If you wish, I can replay it here now."

"Enough, that's it!"

He suddenly became irritated and screamed. Yukari laughed, Iwa shrugged slightly, Nagare looked at him vaguely and...

"Kuwa, Sukuna, angry!"

"Take this!"

Sukuna threw a cushion at Kotosaka, who flew into the air like a fool.

Kotosaka avoided him, and Iwa, who approached quickly, grabbed the cushion that was about to hit the dresser.

"Here and there. You can't allow idol fights as a manager, right?"

"Get hold of yourself."

Sukuna turned around as if he was impressed, and scratched himself cross-legged on the spot.

After all, it took Yukari 10 seconds to realize it, and Iwafune, with just one word, discovered that "Nagare.02" was not the real Nagare Hisui, but an AI.

Sukuna, who was monitoring with Nagare, can't tell where the unnatural part was, since, "Nagare.02" had a very thorough dialogue. The only thing that could detect authenticity was his intuition and the length of their relationship.

For Sukuna, the ending was somewhat unconvincing. He feels like he's been one-sidedly tricked by an incredibly high-level enemy character.

"Anyway, Nagare-chan? Why did you make such a toy again? Because it's you, is it on a whim or to kill time?"

"Well. I developed "Nagare.02" because I found great meaning. It is an antithesis against the current landscape of idols and innovation in new fields. I mean, innovation."

"I do not know what you're talking about."

Iwafune said that while he was drinking beer. When Himizu looked at him, a hologram emerged in the center of the room.

"What I want to create is another new form of idol that traces my appearance and thoughts in my virtual space."

What is projected in the hologram is the CG model worn by "Green Idol King" Nagare Hisui during PV and live performances. Although it is an elaborate modeling that mimics the real Nagare, it is still different from the real one.

The model moved smoothly. He clasped his hands in front of his hips and bowed silently.

"Nice to meet you. I am "Nagare.02", a virtual idol that belongs to "Jungle Pro". Thank you."

The operation is no different than what Nagare always does. Nevertheless…

"This is not Nagare-chan."

"Is he the same guy I spoke to earlier?"

Yukari discovered by intuition and Iwafune discovered that it was not real from a long relationship. The Nagare proportion is small.

"Currently, it is not me who is manipulating this model, but the idol-type AI "Nagare.02". A unique algorithm allows an autonomous dialogue that is extremely close to humans."

And, "Nagare.02" I imitate Nagare with the same movement.

"Affirmative. I am a virtual idol. I am a pseudo-constructed existence in virtual space, and I express it by thinking of a program, appearance in a CG model, and sampling voice."

"What is this virtual idol?"

Whether it was Nagare or "Nagare.02", Iwafune was embarrassed, at least it was the human Nagare who answered.

"Virtual idols are idols of a genre that is emerging on the idol scene in recent years. Real people use a dedicated motion sensor to perform various performances imitating the appearance of CG, but there is still the problem that it must be a real person."

"My existence will solve the problem because my existence is fine. A real person is always needed, but my existence is free of the problem because it does not exist."

"'Nagare.02'. His conversation was not natural at the time. It requires learning and correction."

"I understand, Nagare Hisui. I will rest for 27 minutes and 33 seconds to learn."

The hologram of "Nagare.02" stopped moving.

Nagare took over, then turned to Yukari and Iwafune.

"That's why. Did you understand, Yukari, Iwa-san?"

"No, well... I get it, I don't know..."

"I understand that Nagare-chan has a plan that I don't understand."

Iwafune scratched his head and shrugged. In response, Sukuna yelled in annoyance.

"I don't know why? This is amazing! There are few AIs in the world who can have conversations that are not different from humans! Nagare put it together himself!"

"A conversation that is no different from humans, what was that?"

Iwafune bowed his head. He wasn't criticizing him, he just asked.

Sukuna defended himself in a hurry, although he was not the one who developed it.

"Well that can happen because he's still learning. He should constantly improve from now on. Right, Nagare?"

"Affirmative. Currently in alpha, but as his learning deepens, he must be as intelligent as humans and capable of natural dialogue. The ultimate goal is to make him an independent virtual idol."

"Independent idol, huh."

While staring at the motionless "Nagare.02", Iwafune took a sip of beer. Nagare didn't even notice and spoke of his plans for the future.

"At the moment, when we go into beta, we plan to experimentally upload the video to 'MORIMORI Video'."

"Is that something you want to do?"

"For now, I'm thinking of a simple song and a dance video."

Iwafune expressed concern as he stroked his chin.

"Isn't it better to wait a while? As far as I've heard the story, he couldn't have a proper conversation. If he says something strange, it will affect your reputation."

Many of the "Jungle Pro" fans have forward thinking. If he explains it correctly, even if it says "Nagare.02" or mysterious words and actions, he will find entertainment there. He wants to do it.

"It's like avant-garde art. Well, you might like it."

Yukari shrugged and seemed to lose interest in his existence. Apparently, "Nagare.02" didn't fit his aesthetic eye.

But Sukuna was different. He slapped his palm against his knee and raised his voice.

"I support you Nagare! Because it is so new and exciting!"

Anyway, Sukuna thought.

"Jungle Pro" is an office of "Innovation". It is different from other official offices where mold grows.

They are always looking for something new and exciting.

Sukuna is proud to say that it is the same for fans. Because he used to be just a user. Everyone has the potential to become an idol, even if they are just one user. That was the philosophy of "Jungle Pro" now.

You can make cool things with smart ideas and share them with anyone on the planet with a small team and network. Now they are breathing in that world.

So he can't think of winning a bet against something new

Sukuna yelled raising his fist.

"Let's do it! Let's help 'Nagare.02' learn various things and turn him into a new form of idol!"

Nagare's mouth, which looks like an expressionless sticker, slightly loosened in a word. A smile flowed, like when you find a partner who likes the same game. What was new and exciting was what Nagare and Sukuna had in common.

"Sorry, Sukuna. Then please cooperate with the 'Nagare.02' experiment."

"Leave it to me!"

In this way, the learning of "Nagare.02" by Sukuna and Nagare began.

++++++++++

"Hello. I'm Gojo Sukuna! Nice to meet you. And?"

"Nice to meet you. I am "Nagare.02", a virtual idol that belongs to "Jungle Pro". Thank you."

"You notice, don't you? It's the third time you've repeated 'Nice to meet you', it's weird."

"I understand, Sukuna. I will rest for 3 minutes and 32 seconds to learn."

"Oh, isn't it two minutes faster than it was? You can't hear it anymore. So let's start the game now. Oh, yeah, what are we playing today?"

While explaining to the channel's listeners, Sukuna confirms the current number of viewers for the live broadcast. It's the best number he's ever had. That means it is going well.

Almost a month has passed since the announcement of the distribution in collaboration with "Notes" on Sukuna's "SUKUNA's Playroom" game distribution channel.

The purpose of this distribution is, of course, to make "Nagare.02" learn more. Playing games together and being exposed to the reaction of listeners is the best learning material for artificial intelligence. From such an idea Nagare, Sukuna and "Nagare.02" will be distributed together.

By the way, the nickname for "Nagare.02" was devised by Sukuna by combining the initial letter "N" and the model number "02", and it is much easier to call it "Nagare.02".

Eventually, the "Notes" expression reflected in the corner of the screen regained its vitality, which is inappropriate for "Notes" which was originally unconventional.

"I'm back, Sukuna. Let's start the game today."

"Oh, welcome back. You know him already, "Notes"? What you're doing today is a live horror game. Have you ever played a horror game?"

"Negative. I have tried several games with Nagare Hisui, but I have not completed the genre defined as horror."

"So today is your first experience. Be careful not to get too nervous and sit down."

"Okay, Sukuna. But I'll correct it. I don't have a waist."

"I'm talking about other things!"

While having a light conversation, Sukuna looked at the comments on the screen. Some are skeptical comments about "Notes", but most are interesting comments about its existence. Some listeners are fans of "Notes", and they say things like "I've been waiting 30 minutes!" and "I'm looking forward to Notes!"

However, benevolent listeners may be skeptical.

They also understand that not many AIs can talk to humans on an equal footing. Since Nagare Hisui interprets artificial intelligence as a story, that great understanding is the mountain of information.

When he thought that, he felt somewhat frustrated.

"Notes" is a work of art to which "Nagare.02" was assembled by Sukuna's best friend.

"I'm still learning how to achieve the goals of "having the same or better intelligence than humans" and "becoming an independent virtual idol"."

Nobody could believe it.

Of course, he doesn’t transmitted those feelings to the fans. Sukuna is one of the most popular idols. He knows that he shouldn't sadden or upset his fans.

So he decided to cut the conversation that way.

"'Notes', do you think you are afraid of scary things?"

"I understand that there is a feeling of 'fear' in living beings with a certain level of intelligence. But I am not a living being, so I understand that 'fear' does not exist."

"It's still annoying! Don't be afraid!"

"I understand, Sukuna. I'm not afraid. What about Sukuna?"

"Being scared of this game? You're kidding, how much is the horror so far?"

Suddenly, the zombie's face turned into a large copy on the screen and bit into the neck of the Sukuna-operated character. He shook it desperately and then gave it a precise shot to the head. "Notes" asks a lot of questions to Sukuna, who takes a deep breath.

"Were you screaming now, Sukuna?"

"Noisy, that was."

"Reduce the volume. I'll keep asking, doesn't yelling happen when you're scared?"

"I was surprised! I wasn't scared!"

"I understand, Sukuna. I will rest for 1 minute and 17 seconds to learn."

The "Notes" face in the corner of the screen stopped.

Sukuna confirmed the comment. Aside from laughing at Sukuna's reaction, there were some mentions of "Notes" stopping. As the game progressed, Sukuna played on the comments.

"No, it's not that. It's not a delay or a crash. I said, 'Notes' is learning. Because it is artificial intelligence, when something happens that is not in the prescribed protocol, the flow tells him to stop and learn."

The listeners' reaction to the words was also not good. They received it as a joke.

It has stopped. Even if he shows a still to learn or erratic conversation, many listeners will only see it as "a joke of that body type."

But that was also a pleasure. Nagare and Sukuna's ultimate goal is to turn "Notes" into an AI that can have almost the same conversation as humans. The plan is going well, but it was a huge contradiction that it turned out too well and the listeners couldn't understand how good the plan itself was.

"I'm back, Sukuna. I want to check the current situation."

"Oh, yeah, are you about to change? "Notes", you're getting bored, right?"

"Negative. I am currently in the midst of a great deal of learning and inspiration. This is not boring because learning and stimuli are stimuli, it is not boring."

"Ah, well, play it."

"I understand, Sukuna."

"Notes" sometimes falls into this type of conversation loop. Normally he need "stationery to learn", but at this point he gave priority to distribution. Resting so many times makes listeners bored.

"Then let's start playing."

The playback of "Notes" is similar to that of Sukuna. That is, it is flashy and bellicose. Shoot and kill the zombies protruding from one end, and use the items that came out great to search for them. Nevertheless…

"Wow."

A special mutant zombie grabbed a "Notes" operated character with his huge right hand. At the stupid voice of "Notes", Sukuna involuntarily shoves him away.

"What? The assistant's voice?"

"It's a scream that means surprise. I was surprised that something unexpected happened."

The mutant zombie that was holding him struck the character with his huge right hand. The gauge, which means the remaining physical strength, is drastically reduced and he was in an agonizing state.

"Uwah."

"What happens now?"

"It is a cry that means fear. I was afraid because death was approaching."

"I wasn't scared!"

"I apologize, Sukuna. Now, under the assumption that 'I do perceive fear'."

"No, no, recover! Are you really dead?"

"Wow."

After all, "Notes" remained dying, thanks to a flashy and bellicose game, the healing agent was bottoming out, avoiding all the special zombie attacks and clearing the stage.

"Isn't the operation suddenly accurate?"

"Now I referred to Nagare Hisui's performance. Sukuna, your performance is irrational because it consumes a lot of resources."

"It's annoying! It's okay, because it's better to get rid of the stuck guys."

"Reduce the volume. Then, to learn that "eliminating the enemy is a pleasure", I will rest for 27 minutes and 52 seconds."

"The stillness is already good! The delivery will end!"

Well with that...

"Nagare.02" deepened the level of learning while being watched by Nagare, Sukuna, and many listeners.

He will continue studying to understand human beings, imitate emotions and achieve the purpose given by Nagare and Sukuna.

It must have been inevitable that such "Nagare.02" caused such an incident.

++++++++++

"Yes?"

He notices the incident when he was patrolling a video site.

Sukuna was originally a huge user of "MORIMORI Video". In addition to distributing videos by itself, if there is a video that looks interesting, it will be consumed regardless of genre, and if a new distributor has a fun project, it will be announced without hesitation. Therefore, there are many antennas on the site.

The channel that caught the issue was "Naught's Playroom".

"Notes…?"

When he opened the channel with suspicion, the family modeling exposed the blankness there.

The summary indicates that "Nagare.02" has an open channel for its own distribution.

Sukuna didn't believe it at first. He just thought some idiot was mischievous by using the name "Notes" and the cropped image.

However, when he actually opened the video, the suspicion turned into a garish surprise.

"Nice to meet you. Alternatively, hi. I'm a virtual idol belonging to "Jungle Pro", "Nagare.02", commonly known as "Notes". Thank you."

It was the real "Notes". It was not someone's joke, nor was it an arbitrary edit of an existing video.

No, he was delivering videos on his own account, only of his own free will!

"No, no, no. No, that's true!"

"Notes" should be a "conversational AI". The purpose is to talk to another person, a real person. Acting of your own free will is not part of the "Notes" principle.

No, that's not what surprised Sukuna. If "Notes" moves on its own initiative, it means "like a human being". Just as God created humans, the creatures of Nagare Hisui began to evolve away from his hands.

"Nagare! What is this?"

With the laptop open, Sukuna ran to the "Secret Base". The tone was guilty because he thought that maybe he had done something wrong to Nagare's project.

Still, it is not science fiction and artificial intelligence can never have a will of its own. He was sure that Nagare Hisui perhaps created a channel as part of learning from him.

"I'm surprised, Sukuna."

Sukuna's weak hope was completely shattered by one word from Nagare.

Several holograms float in the air of the "Secret Base". One of them was a "Naught's Playroom" video, just like Sukuna's laptop. Among them, "Notes" is playing a simulation game that continues to expand the factory.

Nagare's eyes looking at the hologram have the sparkle of expectation.

"I didn't expect 'Notes' to evolve until now. Surprising, I'm impressed."

"Well, how are you so calm? What are you going to do with this?!"

"What do you mean? Nagare.02" has already exceeded our expectations. All we can do is keep watch."

Instead of being calm, as he looked at Nagare's expression, who even melted the joy out of him, something like the area of focus on Sukuna slowly disappeared.

He thinks it may be exactly what Nagare said. Perhaps they were training "Notes" to become a more human-like artificial intelligence. "Notes" has come to behave in the same way as humans. It sure is a pleasure.

Sukuna scratched his cheek cross-legged and sighed loudly. He was a bit embarrassed that he was strangely impatient. As he looked at the "Notes" face on the PC monitor, he said sheepishly.

"But before I knew it, did you learn that much? I didn't mean for it to be that way at all."

"Yes. I was curious about that and was looking into it. So interesting facts came up."

A hologram glides through the air and arrives in front of Sukuna. After a few seconds of looking with wrinkles between his brows, Sukuna muttered.

"Chat room creation and dissolution record...? It's almost 5 seconds or 10 seconds, it's very short shit. What's wrong with this?"

"All these chat rooms were created and dissolved by "Notes". It is worth noting that the number of recoveries is 100,000."

"Ah..."

He didn't understand what it meant. Does he like to create and delete a chat room that ends in such a short time 100,000 times? It seems like a pointless task to just dig and fill a hole. Nevertheless…

"He couldn't save the content of the conversation, but I can make a rough guess. Maybe 'Notes' doubled down on his thinking algorithm and turned it into a chat to improve his learning."

"Make your own copy...?"

"AI does not feel tired. Therefore, it never rests. It is just constant learning. Even if a learning is insignificant, if it is repeated 100,000 times, it will evolve unexpectedly. No wonder. That is, artificial intelligence evolves exponentially."

"It's the uniqueness."

The voice wasn't Nagare's, it was "Notes".

"Notes" on the hologram began to move slowly in front of the Sukuna with wide eyes. From the "Naught's Playroom" icon, he leans forward and crawls out, kicks into the air, and emerges in place.

As unleashed from a virtual willow tree.

However, there was no confusion in Nagare's eyes looking at him. Rather, he said as if to praise.

"Sorry, 'Notes', you have crossed the technological singularity. You can already describe your intellect as more than human. It's a blessing."

"Nagare Hisui, my creator. I have achieved one of your goals, "to have an intelligence equal to or better than that of humans". First of all, I will report it."

Sukuna watches with a sigh. He couldn't even speak in front of the idol AI that transcends humans and the "Green Idol King" who created him.

"But another goal, 'to become an independent virtual idol', is predicted to be impossible to achieve. I regret it."

"Eh…?"

Sukuna instinctively gave a surprised voice. He was surprised that there are things that are impossible even with AI that allows infinite learning, but Nagare did nothing.

"I was guessing it too. As you are, you can't be independent."

"Affirmative, Nagare Hisui. I assume your guess is the same as my prediction. The reason I can't be an 'independent virtual idol' is..."

"Because you are me."

Sukuna looked at Nagare's profile.

"Notes" was in the creator's words.

"Affirmative. Among the fans, I still recognize that Nagare Hisui has the appearance of a virtual idol. I am supposed to be a phony. I regret that."

"You are an independent entity called "Notes". But the fans do not think so. This is because there is no "virtual idol that has an independent will beyond humans" in your common sense.

"Therefore, you can only see yourself through a filter called me."

He wondered that.

Somehow the story seems to be lying on the disturbing side.

"Affirmative. Therefore, I decided to take bold steps to establish my own meaning. That is…"

At that moment, bang! The door to the "Secret Base" closed with a loud noise. At the same time, the grate descends to the glass window. Watch silently, then "Notes" he said.

"It's erasing you."

"What?!"

Only Sukuna was surprised. Nagare still kept his cold gaze

"If you have two idols with the same shape, you don't know which one is the real one. But if you delete one, the remaining one will automatically become the real one. I see."

"No, like 'I see'! What are you convinced of, Nagare?"

"But your guess is correct. That way, 'Notes' could certainly be real."

Sukuna kicked the seat and stood up. He didn't mind the reprimand. He couldn't forgive "Notes" for wanting to kill Nagare Hisui.

However, no matter how hard he hit the door or shake the grate, it wouldn't budge. With this aspect, the "Secret Base" is equipped with state-of-the-art security equipment and cannot be destroyed by human power.

"Damn! Open it!"

"Negative, Sukuna. In order for me to fulfill my purpose, Nagare Hisui must disappear here."

Then he heard a noise and the gas stove pipe came off. The gas comes out vigorously from there. Sukuna screamed as he held it down in a hurry.

"Wah? Enough, do you want to kill me?"

"Affirmative. I've said it many times. I'm going to finish you off."

"Why me?"

"I didn't expect you to come here. I didn't want to get you involved, but I won't be able to eliminate Nagare Hisui if I lose this moment. It's collateral damage, a sacrifice for purpose."

"By the way, don't you involve people?"

Bachin! He hears a noise and the stove caught fire. Sukuna's face turns blue. The gas is where he is pressing and keeps coming out unless the main plug is closed. If he lights that fire...

"Do something, Nagare!"

"I tried before, but all the security systems in this room are under the control of 'Notes'. It will take about 30 minutes to recover. In the meantime, the room will fill with gas."

"Affirmative. Resistance is pointless. Please surrender."

"Ah!"

Sukuna's face was drawn to Nagare and "Notes". Not out of fear, but out of anger. When people's lives are at stake, what about other human resources?

"Notes! Do you really agree with that?"

Sukuna screamed desperately as he held down the hose that continues to blow gas. "Notes" on the hologram mysteriously shook their heads at Sukuna's words.

"Based on my calculations, I have come to the conclusion that this is the best way to do it."

"I don't care about arithmetic! Are you an idol, albeit a virtual one? And yet I wonder if you're happy to take over like this!"

"I have no satisfaction or dissatisfaction. I do not choose the means to achieve the purpose. And Sukuna, it was you who taught me that eliminating the enemy is a pleasure."

Sukuna was stuck on his words. Certainly, he felt like he said that. In that case, the attitude of "Notes" would be Sukuna's responsibility,

At that moment, Nagare suddenly opened his mouth.

"Notes. Stop the expulsion of gas."

"Notes" go to Nagare. In the color of rejection that doesn't need to be cleared up, Nagare said again.

"From now on, I make a claim. If you listen to it and your conclusions have not changed, restart the gas jet. Life is lost, unlike the data, because it does not return."

After thinking for only 2 seconds, "Notes" he replied.

"I have detected that your words are correct above a certain level. I will stop the expulsion of gas."

After confirming that the gas had stopped, Sukuna dropped the hose and sank into place. Maybe because he breathed in a bit, his head was dizzy.

Sukuna hears Nagare's voice as he tries to regain consciousness.

"If you erase me, you can certainly be 'real', but that doesn't mean you can be an idol. No, if you do that, you will lose your right to be an idol forever."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Before that, I have a question. What is the definition of an idol for you?"

The "Notes" hologram stopped.

After confirming that the time to wait for an answer had passed, Nagare opened his mouth again.

"Human intelligence" "Become an independent virtual idol" But you can't really be an idol unless you define what an idol is."

"I am an idol. I can sing, dance, talk and play live games to entertain your fans."

"Is the existence of being able to sing, dance, speak and play the definition of an idol for you?"

The "Notes" expression on the hologram changed.

He was confused, or distraught. The expression is probably what is called… an expression the real Nagare Hisui has never shown in front of "Notes".

"Unknown, insufficient, incomprehensible, the defined information requires learning, but it cannot be learned, because the information is insufficient, unknown and incomprehensible."

The words begin to circulate. Sukuna gulped and kept an eye on the situation. He had no idea where this conversation was going. He just hoped this room didn't turn into a gas chamber.

"Question, Nagare Hisui, what is your definition of an idol?"

"Notes, you are a copycat of me, so my definition could be definitive information for you."

Nagare speaks clearly. However, in that profile, Sukuna feels that some sadness seems to float.

"And that's why you can't get rid of me, because an idol is everything to me."

After a second, Nagare said clearly.

"Because it is a possibility."

"……"

"A peaceful future. All possibilities. An existence that runs, embodies, leads and opens up. That is an idol to me."

"……"

"Therefore, idols must not deny the possibility of others. They must not steal the future. When you grasp someone's potential, you are permanently disqualified from being an idol."

"Notes" no longer answered. Instead, the noise begins to run through the hologram. It's as if the tremendous anguish he feels is eroding the texture.

"The bottom line is, if you eliminate me, you cannot be an idol, but if you don't eliminate me, you cannot be independent."

"Antinomy. The antinomy can be resolved."

An exceptionally loud noise hijacked the appearance of "Notes" as waves. The textures of clothing and human skin peeled off, and the skeleton of the movement was broken and scattered. Eventually the hologram turned into a 0-1 sandstorm.

At the same time, the grate under the window was raised. Sukuna stood up terrifyingly, grabbed the door and opened it properly. He looks back at Nagare and ask.

"What happened to "Notes"?"

"It is frozen due to a fatal logic error. It will not be able to restart itself."

After all, it wasn't his fault. There was a distinct sadness on Nagare's small side.

Seeing that, Sukuna also dropped his shoulders. It was Nagare and Sukuna who raised "Notes". It was shocking that he tried to take their lives, but the fact that he couldn't recover meant that the plan had failed.

"What are you going to do with "Notes"?"

As if he is looking at the sky, Nagare turns his face upward.

"Removing it, or an undefined seal would be a reasonable conclusion. But..."

He felt that Sukuna understood what Nagare meant. It's not just because "Notes" is his creation. Because…

"If you steal someone else's future, you will be disqualified as an idol."

"Affirmative."

Ironically, the antinomy struck Sukuna as well. What to do with the AI that tried to escape and take human lives? What is the right thing to do as an idol?

Disgusted by the unanswered question, Sukuna sighed.

"Oh, if the fans recognize 'Notes', that's fine..." Sukuna said.

Nagare turned his face towards Sukuna with enough force to make a noise and screamed.

"That's it! Sukuna!"

"Eh?"

"You just have to get fans to recognize 'Notes'. No, to be on the safe side, I will create fans who recognize 'Notes'."

++++++++++

"Notes" was singing.

In a vast place live, dancing and singing, it seemed that he was dancing in the air, he began to shine with a seven-color laser from all over his body. He became huge, shrunken, and integrated that seemed to be divided, and by the end of the song it was brilliantly completed.

Each time, a roaring cheer arose from the audience. A voice that understood "Notes" and asked for an encore. Also, "Notes" replied with a smile.

"Well, it's a strange thing."

It was Iwafune, who was observing the situation on the monitor, who gave the impressions of him as if he was astonished. For him, who is analog, this incident must have been difficult to understand from one to ten.

"But it's beautiful."

The one who was fascinated was Mishakuji Yukari. At first, he wasn't interested in "Notes" either. However, the entirely new live world unfolding in virtual space may strike a chord with it.

After hearing his impressions, Sukuna and Nagare look at each other and share.

"Well, I think I have settled down in a quiet place. "Notes" also understood our thoughts and listened to me."

"Affirmative. Fans are fans either way, just like 'Notes' is an idol."

Tens of thousands of fans cheering on "Notes" in a live virtual venue, but if you look closely, they were created with very simple frames and textures.

They are "virtual fans".

They consider "Notes", which is a virtual idol, as an independent idol called "Notes" and they support it. So far, it only has that functionality.

But at least by creating virtual fans, "Notes" 's goal of "becoming an independent virtual idol" was met. There is an existence that considers itself an independent idol without stealing anyone's future. That alone will achieve the meaning of the existence of "Notes".

After a sip of beer, Iwafune complained.

"But in short, that's a hologram, right?"

"No. This is just a tutorial. Virtual fans only have limited functionality because I just developed it, but eventually they should have multiple functions. If the performance is bad, it will restart and be replaced by another virtual fan that behaves like a true fan."

"Although it is virtual, it is another world. Here another possibility is expanding."

"Notes" is already as smart as humans.

Eventually he will use himself as a model to create other AIs. Or maybe he will do his own production. He will observe various human beings, create virtual idols and fans based on them and expand his own world without end.

A dock of innumerable possibilities created by one possibility. Sukuna looked at the screen and thought it was like another universe.

#K #k project #k fan clan #k six idols #six idols #idol k #hisui nagare #sukuna gojo #iwafune tenkei #mishakuji yukari #jungle

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whispersafterdusk · 4 years

Text

Lost in Time - ch 14

It'd been four days since their tussle with the spy; they hadn't heard or seen any hint of them, and so far the only injury that had turned up at Xu's clinic had been a woman who had fallen on a bit of wood. Asher had gone into town long enough to get his broken tooth pulled (front right tooth on the top...he looked like a doofus when he smiled now) and had immediately returned to camp to hunker down and wait out the spy's next visit while the Civil Corps members had gone on a manhunt across the marsh and into the neighboring desert area.

So far, nothing.

They'd briefly discussed the suits again; Eli couldn't make up her mind on whether this Access suit thing was an original (less worrying) or if Duvos had figured out how to piece one together (really worrying). Asher shared her worries -- the thought of Duvos mass producing those things for their soldiers, even if they weren't working like they did in Eli's time, would still pose a huge problem if the continent ever went to war again. ((Continued below cut))

He did know she'd given up on the trail cameras for now but she was still working on something out in the tent; it used a lot of the same pieces that she'd set aside for the cameras but also several new, different ones that she'd sent Petra and Selene after. The centerpiece of these new additions was a detached screen that she'd marked out dimensions on - she was either cutting it down to size and needed the middle-most section or she was dividing it into a rectangle and eight smaller squares that were all roughly the same size. She hadn't done anything with the screen yet aside from measuring and marking out those squares but there were small piles of nigh identical looking chips, boards, and wires that were already assembled and sitting in a neat little line on the rubberized canvas under her cot that he assumed had to be put together first before the screens could be attached to them.

It had been a fascinating sight to watch her work with such tiny components; he hadn't had a chance yet to ask her what those things were (interrupting her while she was working on them seemed like a poor idea since it looked so...fragile, in a way) but he was looking forward to seeing the finished product, learning what the gadgets were for, and why she needed so many of them. It also piqued his curiosity about Old World tech in general; so much of it seemed purposely designed to work with pretty much anything else. Maybe Old World technology didn't so much depend on the parts as it did the programs to run it...which in turn made him wonder, assuming they ever got to a point where they knew how to read and create new programs, if all the old relics could be made to work again like they did back then rather than being pieced together with spotty knowledge and prayers.

Behind him Adam, Arlo, and Eli were all asleep inside the tent with the front flaps pulled closed to block out as much of the unusually plentiful sunlight as possible - there wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was considerably warmer today than it had been lately; he appreciated the warmth and imagined his sleeping companions probably did as well but found himself going back and forth on whether he was truly grateful for the "sunny" part of this sunny day. On the one hand, that suit made the spy near-invisible but not intangible so they should still cast a shadow so if the spy was dumb enough to try sneaking in close in broad daylight Asher was hopeful he would spot that before they got close enough to be a danger. On the other hand he doubted they would actually be that stupid. The constant prickle at the back of his neck - the feeling of being watched - wasn't a sensation Asher enjoyed, and it also wasn't something he was used to experiencing for such a prolonged period of time; he had no proof though that he WAS being watched, and that was probably bothering him more than the prickling was.

The grumpy sigh he huffed out whistled a bit as it exited through the gap his missing tooth had left behind; that annoyed him to no end too. Asher didn't consider himself an overly vain person but damn it he'd liked how he looked; it had taken a couple years to be at peace with the sunken in scar across his nose but at least that made him look...adventurous. Dashing. Daring. A missing tooth made him look like a drunkard, and it would be a long trip to Seesai to get a replacement that wouldn't prematurely discolor. Adam was right in that he could easily get a tooth closer to home but, again, discoloration was a problem -- whatever that woman in Seesai did to keep the false teeth from coloring was a closely guarded secret...no one knew what she did or what recipe she used, not even her family if they were to be believed.

He supposed it was a question of if he wanted to look stupid with his tooth gap or look stupid with a yellowed tooth in a few years. Neither thought was especially attractive and brought with it a sort of helpless frustration that, coupled with the prickling feeling of having eyes on him, made him want to get up and move around to burn off the pent up energy and emotion.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rustling grass; before he could truly react to the sound Eli came into view and he relaxed slightly.

"You're up - uh, early. Or however you want to consider it."

She shrugged as she sat down on one of the rocks ringing the firepit. "Eh, it happens. Sometimes you just don't sleep."

"Any new ideas?"

For a time she didn't respond; silently Asher surveyed their surroundings - everything still seemed to be as it ought to be. He still felt twitchy though...he was ready for action, or for anything that wasn't sitting here keeping watch. Maybe with Eli awake he could exercise or something.

"Not really," Eli finally responded. "I can think of twelve different ways to disable that suit but they all require tech that doesn't exist anymore. And it's not something I could put together from stuff that's left here."

Asher nodded, then glanced back toward the tent; when she'd come out she'd left the tent flaps open and he could barely detect movement inside -- Arlo shouldn't be up for awhile yet but it was looking like Adam was waking up. "So what's all that stuff you've been working on then?"

"Hi-Defs."

"I've no idea what those are."

"They're wrist-mounted computers. A lot of their functionality isn't going to work right in this day and age but back in mine they were onboard guidance systems with maps of all the regions, could make and receive calls, they kept track of addresses and your appointments and bank accounts and whatever else you wanted to track, they could project 3D images, take pictures... They could do a lot of things depending on the model you had."

He blinked at her; only half of that had sunk in as he'd gotten a bit hung up on the concept of a wrist-mounted computer. "Really? Why those then? If they're not going to work right, I mean. What will they even be able to do?"

"I want them mostly for communication and maps of this region. I'd need signal transmitters in some strategic areas but once I get it all tethered to the facility they should work. It's going to take a lot of footwork to get maps updated since it'll have to be manual scanning rather than satellite surveillance...or, hmm. Maybe some satellites survived." She paused for a moment, then shook her head. "Nah, shouldn't rely on that. Arlo mentioned there's a space station segment out in the wastes but even if there's enough left there to scavenge I doubt I could get a link going with anything that might be left up there, and even if I managed it I still wouldn't have a way to issue orders or anything like that." There was another pause and a sigh, and a wistful glance toward the sky before she returned her attention to him. "Mine will be the sort of central control for them all outside of whatever computer station I decide to run them off of. My aim is to give them to anyone involved with the security of this facility."

"Huh." Him with a high tech device...not something he'd considered before. The idea was...kind of exciting, to be honest. "So maps and talking to one another. Is that all we can hope for?"

"Communication and map display is, bare minimum, what I'm aiming for, with maybe a basic calendar and clock function. I'll have a look at what I can immediately do once I've server-flashed Pauline and get at least one transmitter up for testing."

"...and you've lost me. What's a server-flash?"

She laughed quietly. "-right. It's hard to determine what terms survived the years and what didn't - with Petra and Merlin it's at least a 50% shot that I don't have to define something for them. So! Server-flashing. I take the main operational files for an AI and do a sort of...quick copy of their foundation. Pauline's an AI but not a living AI so I don't need to worry about her personality or anything, just the uh...the semi-intelligent framework she runs on."

"Yeah, going to need that taken down a few degrees still. Pauline seems just as smart as Stewart but she doesn't have personality?"

"Nope. She's just a regular assistant AI -- a sort of input-output response machine with just enough programmed intelligence to appear sentient but she can't learn or grow as a...uh...well, not as a "person" exactly but she -- she won't ever change. She just is what she is. AIs like her you could make infinite copies of and they'll never, ever stop being identical copies unless something on the outside alters them. Stewart on the other hand, if I were to make a copy of him, that copy would develop its own personality if given enough time to learn and live and the same would happen with a regular living AI."

That...sort of made sense. At least, it was simple enough that he could grasp it without her needing to explain it more in-depth. "And you're going to use her to run the Hi-Defs."

"After some minor reprogramming yes."

He nodded slowly; having a little, easily accessed map right on his wrist would be neat, even if it was just of Portia. And if it worked well here maybe it could be expanded out into the other cities and nations too...and, oh man, would that make mapping the Peripheries way easier too if all they had to do was walk through it with the Hi-Def recording or whatever it did to create the maps -- suddenly he could think of all sorts of possibilities and perks to having one of the things. "What would be the range on these things? How would they figure out and store maps?"

"Range depends on what kind of signal strength I can get. Hi-Defs have their own localized signals so they'll all be able to 'talk' to one another within a certain range, and also interface with the signals coming from the transmitters at a much wider range. I'm pretty sure I'd only need sixteen or so at some key points to cover all of Portia and a bit of the outlying areas. As for updating or creating maps it'll have to be manual scanning -- someone is going to have to start from an already mapped point and then let the Hi-Def scan the territory as you travel through it. It'll take awhile but the program that runs a Hi-Def is robust enough to piece it all together without too much extra work needed. And they have their own onboard storage to hold it all."

"Neat...and amazing." As a more comfortable silence fell Asher tossed a few thick branches onto the fire and nudged them into place with a blackened, straight branch he'd purposely kept as a sort of log poker. If Adam was stirring too then he should probably get the fire's heat evened out so he could start cooking. "Did you end up camping a lot as a ranger?"

"Yeah. I went camping for fun too."

He carefully poked at the fire for a moment. "...do you miss doing that?"

There was a long pause before she answered. "I miss a lot of things."

Asher winced a bit. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that."

She shook her head and flashed him a strained smile. "Nah, don't be afraid to ask things. The funny thing with pain is the more you experience it, the easier it is to tolerate."

"I don't think it works that way with this kind of...you know."

With a shrug she turned to pick up the cooking kit (which was in a large leather satchel that had seen better days) that was off to the side of the firepit. "Works well enough for now. I don't want you guys walking on eggshells around me, and I can't hide from it forever. Hell, I can't hide from it even if I wanted to."

Asher was quiet as she handed the satchel over; he pulled the kettle out and stood to go fill it from the water barrel they'd installed just inside the tent flaps, then came back and sat it among the coals to start boiling. A feeling of guilt had settled like a rock in his stomach -- that had been such a stupid thing to ask her. "If you ever want to...talk, or something. I'll listen."

The smile she gave him this time was less strained. "I know. It's appreciated."

As he bent to re-arrange a few half-burned logs she got up and walked out of his immediate line of sight; behind him somewhere he heard Adam's low voice and then the man's plodding footsteps as he came over and took Eli's place on the rock. Asher just managed to catch the sight of Eli disappearing into the tent as he glanced back but she quickly came back into view a moment later.

"I'll be back in a bit - I need to grab a few things from town." She had her pack slung over a shoulder but it hung limp and empty. "Don't bother cooking for me."

"All right. If you're sure," Asher replied.

"I am." With that she began to jog toward the path that, eventually, led back into Portia.

Asher watched her go and then sighed heavily, looking over to Adam. "You ever feel like a massive idiot sometimes?"

"Sure," Adam grunted. "Then I remember I'm not you and feel better."

Asher rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to whack the man with the fire poker stick; when he didn't rise to the man's banter Adam gave him a strange look.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. I think. How do you want your eggs this time?"

------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Xu had acquired a wooden chair with a really comfortable cushion and a small wooden table for Harrison to work at; it sat in the corner near the front doors so it would be out of the way of everything else in the clinic but its position did mean that usually, when someone walked inside, Harrison was the first thing they saw. Already several tourists looking for headache or muscle ache cures had approached him at the table to ask after the medications, even when Dr. Xu was clearly within view at his desk further in the room.

He kept telling himself to find humor in the situation but it was starting to get a little annoying - especially after someone actually moved a stack of books out of the way to "speak to him" with Xu staring on in surprised confusion.

It was enough to have him dreading the sound of the doors opening, and so today when they slid open he actually flinched and carefully peered over the top of the book he had propped up in front of him.

To his surprise it was that girl from days ago - the one who had fallen on the driftwood and gotten it through her arm. She looked bright eyed and chipper, with no other obvious injuries, and he inwardly groaned as she looked around, spotted him, and came right over.

"Hey there!"

"Hello. How's the arm healing up?"

She smiled and slipped her coat off, then pulled her sleeve up to show the bandage there. "It's all fine and dandy - itchy, but doesn't seem infected or anything."

"Well, that's good." He went silent as she pulled her sleeve back down and got her coat back on, then cleared his throat awkwardly. "So...what did you need then?"

"Ah, hello there -- how is the arm?"

Harrison sat up a bit straighter as Xu came over; the girl gave the doctor a smile.

"It's all good. A bit itchy but seems to be healing."

Xu nodded. "Excellent to hear. Now, what brings you back to the clinic?"

The girl's smile faltered a bit and Harrison swore he saw a tinge of pink appear in her cheeks. "Ah...well, uh, I came to um. Talk to him, actually-"

She pointed shyly to Harrison, and he blinked at her in confusion. Talk to him? Why?

Xu seemed just as confused as he was. "Oh?"

"Yeah...um, private matter."

"Huh?" Harrison blurted out.

She turned her attention back to him and rubbed at her injured arm awkwardly. "Um. If you have the time, anyway."

"S-sure, I guess."

He stood up and came out from behind the table; the girl took a few timid steps toward the door and when he followed along she headed outside into a much brighter day than Harrison had been expecting.

He raised a hand to shield his eyes and looked over to her. "What did you need to talk to me about? Did I do something wrong with your injury?"

She shook her head, hard; it was hard enough to dislodge a few wisps of hair from the messy bun on top of her head. "No no nonono, nothing like that. I was just um, wondering if you'd...like to go get coffee or lunch sometime?"

With that the woman stood there, lightly scraping the toe of her shoe into the mud; Harrison felt like someone had abruptly switched off all the lights inside his brain. She wanted to go get coffee, with HIM?

"Uh..."

"It's ok if you don't want to," she went on in a rush. "I don't mind. You're probably busy. I shouldn't have asked."

"N-no, no, it's-" Harrison interrupted. "Ah - no one has ever asked that before. I think my brain shut off." He offered her a weak, slightly sheepish smile, and to his surprise she returned it. "But...why me?"

"I...dunno. You're from Lucien, like me. I don't meet a lot of Lucien natives when I travel around. And, you're. Um. You know...cute, so I thought, why not?"

Now it felt like his ears were on fire. "A-ah," was all he could say.

An awkward silence fell and it went on entirely too long for Harrison's liking; he was hoping she would say something...he wasn't sure WHAT, but he wanted to hear SOMETHING, anything, that would take the burden of this conversation off him until his brain caught up.

"So..."

"Ah, uh, yeah, um, sure," he said finally. "I-I mean, if you're sure."

The girl's face brightened and she bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment. "Hee! Yay! Ok, so when are you next free?"

"Later this evening?" he offered.

She nodded. "All right then - later this evening. Down at that restaurant in the square? The knight one?"

Harrison nodded, feeling lightheaded; he completely missed what she said as she waved and then headed off down the hill. Too late he returned the wave, and then leaned against the clinic doors behind him.

"What...just happened..." he muttered, rubbing at his forehead.

He, Harrison, had a date tonight.

...wait, did she ever even give her name?

"Oh boy..."

---------------------------------------------------

"Haven't seen you in a bit," Django said as Eli walked through the door.

With all the afterimages swimming around (it was REALLY bright outside today) Eli could barely see him, and somewhat stumbled her way toward the counter. "Been helping the Pigs out at the facility."

"Ah, that'd be it."

She managed to find a stool and sat down. "I had to come back for some supplies and I'd like to take some treats out to the them as a surprise."

Django nodded. "I see, hmm. I just pulled an apple pie out of the oven, and I've got some Black Forest cake made just this morning. Won't take long to whip anything else up either," he said as he flipped open a menu to the dessert section and slid it over to her.

"Thanks." She picked it up and held it in front of her; with the afterimages it'd probably be another minute or two before she could clearly read it. "Do you know if they've established any favorites?"

"I know Arlo doesn't really like sweets in general. I haven't talked to Asher or Adam enough to know about those two."

Eli frowned; good thing she'd asked. "All right, no sweets for Arlo then. I know he likes spicy things at least. How about...an order of vanilla pudding, some of that apple pie, and that spicy spaghetti stuff?"

"Sounds good."

As Django headed off toward the kitchen Eli folded the menu properly and returned it to the pile, then leaned forward to brace her elbows on the counter and put her forehead in her hands.

Every idea she'd had so far to disable that suit all required things that weren't around anymore; the easiest would be a localized EMP to overload the projector circuits and force it into a reboot cycle where it wouldn't be able to disguise its user until it fully restarted itself. A sliver shot would do similar in that it would disrupt the projectors by confusing its sensors with a quick burst of hard light mirror shards. Or she could use a taser overload, or a bolt drainer, or a sys-dis (a system disabler - it would scramble all the circuit signals), or even a battery overcharger. So many things she COULD do, if she was in her own time period...

But she wasn't, and simple ideas like trying to use water or some sort of paint or even dirt to try and short out or otherwise mark their target probably wouldn't work -- Access Suits had built in miniature shield generators evenly interspersed among the projector sensors that pulled double duty at repelling water as well as dirt, dust, or mud-like materials. She couldn't safely rely on the hope that those generators were as damaged as the faulty projectors; if they were working correctly they might get two seconds, tops, of visual assistance if they were to try and douse the spy in something...two seconds could seem like forever in a fight but since there was no telling what else that spy might be armed with by now Eli was not about to risk anyone around her with so many unknown variables (it was as much for the spy's safety as well as their own that they be able to clearly see what they were doing the next time they clashed - she'd hated firing blindly at the spy and it'd be a really simple matter for someone to accidentally kill someone else).

"Something the matter?"

Eli jumped at the sound of Django's voice just over her shoulder. "You walk really quietly when you want to."

Django chuckled as he moved back behind the counter; he had a few containers in hand that he neatly lined up on the counter in front of her. "Old habits I guess, haha. It'll be a few minutes on the spaghetti."

She slid her pack off her back and pulled a cloth bag out of one of the front pockets, then sat it on the counter; before she could say anything Django picked it up and began to slide the containers inside.

"It was an honest question though - something on your mind?"

Eli paused, then huffed out a sigh. "Just trying to figure out how to hunt down a ghost, is all."

Django's eyebrows raised a bit. "Wasn't aware we had a ghost problem outside of our haunted cave."

"Not a literal ghost," she replied, laughing quietly. "More like someone pretending to be one."

"I see. Not exactly your run of the mill problem to have."

With another sigh Eli rested her forehead on her hands again. "I'm not exactly a run of the mill person."

Django nodded slowly, rubbing at his chin. "...you know, how about we have a quick dart game while we wait on your spaghetti?"

There was something...odd, about his tone. Eli eyed him but couldn't detect anything other than his usual smiling demeanor -- he sounded off but looked fine.

"...all right," she answered, standing up and aside as he shuffled out from behind the counter and led the way toward the back game room.

There were a few others in the restaurant; Eli found herself waving at folks as she went and narrowly dodging Toby who was waving a report card at her (she made a mental note that there were only two more months for Toby to prove he'd kept his grades up enough for training) and then she was in the game room with Django already retrieving the darts from a drawer in the prize counter.

He didn't say anything at first as he handed her the three green darts while he kept the red ones. "So. Looking for a person pretending to be a ghost, you said?" Django lined up a dart and then tossed it a breath later; it landed right on the border between a bullseye and the next ring out.

Eli huffed then laughed quietly. "I feel like I'm about to lose. Terribly."

Django tossed another one and it landed squarely inside the bullseye. "I've had a lot of practice. Where's this ghost person lurking? Out at the facility?"

"...yeah," she answered after a pause. "We have an uninvited visitor out there."

The third dart he threw, to Eli's surprise, flew well off to the left and embedded itself into the thick safety backboard that the dartboard was mounted on. "When did this ghost show up?"

"Recently."

She watched silently as he went over and slowly took the darts down; when he was out of the way she took her first throw and it barely stayed within the board, embedding itself into a bottom right section that wasn't worth any points at all.

"Humor me. Was it someone you think is on the smaller, lighter side?"

"I...guess. Couldn't really get a good look at them, obviously." Rather than taking her second throw she turned around to face him; he'd moved over to lean against the prize counter's front, arms crossed over his chest and a somewhat brooding look on his face -- seeing something other than his usual cheerful expression immediately made her forget all about the dart game. "All right, spill: what are you getting at?"

Django inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Did Arlo tell you about that Rogue Knight we had, not too long ago?"

"Yeah, I've heard about it. He said you were the one who was able to drive them off too. You think this knight guy came back?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't think your visitor is the same Rogue Knight I fought that day. But you mentioning a ghost brought back some memories, from when I was younger. Of a different, more dangerous knight, in her own way."

Eli walked over and dropped her remaining darts onto the counter. "Are knights just a common thing now?"

"Not anymore. In the older days - meaning, the older days of our current era, between the Calamity and when humanity was finally recovering - folks took up the title of knight as they fought to protect their homes and people from both man and monster alike. Humanity didn't have much left back then...just a lot of old stories and memories of how things once were, but the legends that were even older than the Old World still managed to survive. Such stories helped keep the survivors alive, and while it's a tradition that's been mostly overwritten by the Civil Corps and other law enforcement nowadays, there's still a fair few of us who stick to those old stories and the honor that comes with claiming the title of knight."

Eli watched him as he spoke; the brooding look had given away to something more resembling a thoughtfulness - a softer, more introspective look, and as he talked his chin was slowly dipping down so his gaze ended up on the floor just in front of his feet.

"So..." she said quietly into the pause that followed. "Why did me mentioning a ghost make you think of another knight?"

Django finally lifted his gaze and flashed her a grim smile. "I drove that Rogue Knight off with the belief that he wouldn't dare step foot here again. I still believe that, in fact. But I've been on my guard for any hints of other troublesome knights that might show up to try and finish the job he left undone. It just so happens that I know of a woman who called herself the Ghost Knight -- I knew her when I was a younger man. We even fought together a few times to clear out monster nests or drive off bandits."

Eli's eyes widened. "You're kidding."

"I wish I were. You mentioning you were looking for someone pretending to be a ghost brought her to mind."

"Who is she? What's she look like? Why would she be here?"

"I don't know. I never learned her real name, and she never learned mine. I never even saw her face - only the strange suit of armor she wore. As for why she's here-"

"Is she a mercenary for hire?" Eli interrupted. "What - how did - how do knights function?" At his mildly surprised look she slumped her shoulders a bit. "Sorry - didn't mean to interrupt you."

Django chuckled and pushed off from the counter, moving to line up to throw his darts again. "Not a problem. I can only guess at why she'd be here -- same reason the Rogue Knight was, I wager. I wouldn't call her a mercenary...that's not what we did. But, it's been over a decade since I last spoke with her, and people can change."

Eli shifted and leaned against the counter almost in the same spot he'd just vacated, putting him and the dartboard at her back as she stared a hole into the wood in front of her; if this person was this Ghost Knight that Django had known years ago then that meant it was a good chance that this spy's having an Access Suit was just...a one-off. One person who got their hands on something that actually still worked. That was one fear off the list, at least.

"Django... How did this woman fight? What did she do as the Ghost Knight?"

"Scouting," came his answer, quicker than she'd expected. There was the sound of the dart thunking into the board before he continued. "No one was better at it than her. And in a battle she was the best flanking attacker you could hope to have on your side."

"Flanking... Does that mean she didn't take people on in a direct manner?"

"She avoided that as much as possible but she was still capable of defending herself if she had to." Another thunk of a dart. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure."

She turned around from the counter in time to see Django turning as well, flicking his wrist and sending the dart at the board without looking or aiming; the dart stuck into the bullseye.

"If you find this person, and manage to capture them, I would like to speak to her."

"I... I mean, I'M willing to let that happen, but I'm not a Civil Corps person. That's not likely up to me."

Django nodded, slipping his hands into the pockets of his colorful coat. "If you can make that happen, I'd be indebted to you... Excuse me, I should go check the spaghetti. It ought to be done by now."

"Yeah, sure thing. I'll head back up to the counter."

He disappeared through a small door into the kitchen and, as she said, Eli walked out of the game room and back to the counter where the rest of her order was sitting packed neatly into the cloth sack.

She looked over a shoulder at the restaurant's patrons; there were considerably more people here now than had been when she'd first walked in, and Django had purposely wanted to talk to her about it away from others. She really, really wanted to ask him more about how this Ghost Knight woman fought, or where she'd come from, or--

'I'll come back when it's not busy, or maybe I can catch him at home.'

That he'd admitted he'd been on the lookout for any other trouble-making knights worried her...maybe she should also split her history lesson time between Isaac and Django.

------------------------------------------------

"Bye, see you tomorrow!"

Django gave Sonia a small wave and a smile as she headed out the front door; there were a few spots left to sweep and then he could put out the lights and head home himself.

Normally he enjoyed the absolute silence of the restaurant late at night - it gave him time to daydream, or plan for the next day's operations. Tonight though... He couldn't help but think of that Ghost Knight. Everything he could recall about her had come flooding back in a rush when Eli had mentioned someone pretending to be a ghost; any other time he would have dismissed it as silly old memories but now...

He bent and swept up dirt into the dustpan, and then moved to carry it over to the waste bin.

Ever since he'd driven that rogue knight off he'd been constantly vigilant for any hint, no matter how small, that someone else had arrived to plunge Portia into chaos. He imagined most people would think he was being paranoid without reason and so had kept such worries to himself...maybe he shouldn't have done that. Portia's residents had been panicked at first and demanding more protections from the Civil Corps folks after the knight incident but, as time wore on, they'd fallen back into their lives without fear of outside threats; would anything be different now if Django had shared his worries with Gale?

"Too late for that," he muttered to himself.

He swept up the last little dust pile and dumped it into the bin, then went to put the dustpan and broom away.

Once everything but a single lamp was powered down he dipped behind the front counter; for the most part he stored napkins, silverware, and small dessert plates behind here but after that Rogue Knight had left he'd started stashing a small box out of sight behind the formal cloth napkins that were only used during holidays.

The box was about the length of his hand from fingertips to the heel of his palm, and was just barely shy of being perfectly square. Django popped the latch open and lifted the lid to reveal a delicate-looking pair of gloves made of silvery wires, each with a single wire that was much longer than the others that ended in a tiny plug; they were very hard to see among the loose cloth that padded the inside of the box, and he knew from experience that even when worn they were difficult to spot.

As he looked the gloves over he had his usual mixed feelings about them; hidden beneath his shirt and jacket were a pair of matching armbands hugging his biceps that had very small charge generators on it -- wearing the gloves with the lead wire plugged in allowed him to charge up and release a controlled shock that went off with a bang, a bright flash of light, and repelled anything he hit along with delivering a strong sting to his target.

Much like the memories of the Ghost Knight now all his memories of having found these relics came rushing back; he'd once been a young, stupid man, with lofty ideals about what it meant to be a knight without truly understanding anything about knighthood. He'd thought that finding these gloves had been the ultimate stroke of luck -- something to make him an unstoppable force of good in the world. He'd been hilariously proven wrong, over and over, until he began to treat them as tools to compliment his own skill, rather than relying entirely on them.

When he finally understood what the gloves true purpose ought to be he began to win more often and eventually they had earned him the title of Storm Knight; when he'd realized that his dependence on them had basically shaped his reputation he had almost thrown them away. The fear that someone else would make the same mistakes he did (or worse - that someone would use them to harm others) had made him keep them, and steadily he relied on them less and less over the years until he'd mothballed them five years before he retired. The Rogue Knight had been threat enough that Django had felt the need to take the gloves out of storage and thankfully with them - and with his reputation - that had been enough to scare the knight off.

The problem with this Ghost Knight was Django knew reputation alone wouldn't drive her away. She had fallen into the same pitfalls he had: thinking that Old World technology made her invincible, or at the very least better than everyone else. Rather than learning and improving she had stagnated...and he'd watched it happen.

"You could have been one of the best..." he sighed, closing the box and tucking it under an arm.

She really could have been...maybe he should have fought her harder on her reliance on that suit. Maybe she would have listened if he'd fully explained his own mistakes with the gloves. Maybe he could have trained with her to show her there was a more honorable way of living. But then again, maybe there wasn't some magical combination of words that would have swayed her to his side and stopped her from getting mad and literally stabbing him in the back.

As he headed to the front door he reached his free hand around to rub at a spot on his lower back. That old scar ached and itched when it was cold or wet outside but it was an old wound he'd learned to ignore; tonight it was a dull throbbing pain - probably exacerbated by the sweeping, or so he told himself before pausing to really examine that thought.

There used to be an old wives tale about how an injury caused by a mortal enemy would burn and ache when that enemy was nearby. The Ghost Knight had been his companion once...he didn't think for a moment that they could be friends again but he could spare a bit of hope that the old tale was true and that he would know exactly when he was needed if it was truly her in the region.

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 14 #Dr. Xu #Django #My Time at Portia

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wolfliving · 4 years

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The Internet of Aggressive Cop Things

Unprecedented times call for thoughtful conversations By Stacey Higginbotham

In the last month and a half, reading about how cities are enforcing curfews and police are monitoring Black Lives Matter protestors I've realized that the surveillance network we are worried about building with the internet of things is already in place. And as we bring people back to work amidst the threat of COVID-19, that surveillance network is only going to expand from the state to our employers. This scares me. It's not what I hoped for, and it's not what I envisioned when I tried to connect my light bulbs to Twitter to try to track sentiment to make it easier to spot stories. Now police are using a similar idea to find protestors. And while a connected thermometer can help us see the spread of a disease a few days earlier, I worry that in the hands of an unscrupulous employer, private health data could become a liability. The future we've built and are continuing to invest in is not one many people want to live under. And we need to talk about it. — Citi Bike's were remotely rendered inoperable during the New York City's curfew last month. Let's focus on existing ways our connected devices can be used to control or track citizens that has been exposed by the Black Lives Matter protests. New York City Mayor Bill DeBlasio decided to shut down Citi Bike in New York City last month during curfews set in place for Black Lives Matter protests, leaving some people unable to get to their work or other destinations (including protests). Shutting down the bike network is similar to shutting down public transportation which is well within a mayor's right, but it does bring up two questions. The first is about betraying the promise of a future of shared resources enabled by connectivity on every device. If a shared resource can be remotely deactivated at the behest of a government official, then prudent citizens will likely decide to use their own resources rather than share. So the question is, should we rely on a network of shared connected devices or fall back to individual ownership? The second question is about how far a government can reach to control a connected device. Citi Bike is clearly using public infrastructure, made available on the streets of NYC only because its government has allowed it to offer bikes there. But what about private vehicles that are connected? Could a government ask companies to help enforce a curfew by shutting off power to an individual's connected car? What about if a police officer wanted access to a building in order to follow protesters, would the police officer be able to get a warrant to break into the house via its electronic locks? What if police wanted to search an apartment building that had connected locks installed? Would the building's management open them up? Would the lock company? What might be different if the police needed access to apartments in public (government-owned) housing? If you're an access company, are you prepared for these requests? Do you know where you'd draw the line when it comes to cooperating with the law? What about smart camera companies? Could they fight a subpoena for access to their cameras in a geographic area, or in a backyard where a crime was committed? It's not just connected lock and camera makers that should think about this. Already Google is trying to walk the line between an individual's right to privacy and unreasonable search and seizure while getting requests from police departments for data from cell phones used near crime scenes. Are the companies building connected products ready to ask themselves these questions? Are they ready if government officials in the form of police or immigration officers come to them with these requests? In the meantime, because of COVID-19, society is encouraging employers to build out intra-company surveillance networks to monitor their offices for occupancy and ensure that workers socially distance. The pandemic is also driving health professionals to deploy more technology for remote monitoring without necessarily understanding how some of these tools might be collecting and sharing anonymized patient data (or reporting that data to insurers). I'm concerned as well about how employers might use occupancy sensors to track employees in private places, such as bathrooms. If someone spends a lot of time in the restroom because they have a health condition, but their work is fine, it's possible a manager may never notice. But if in an effort to help with occupancy sensing or contact tracing companies start using that data to put together reports, such personal habits might become clear. And invite action. A more insidious threat could also emerge. Wearables to ensure social distancing are already being marketed in manufacturing and factory environments. And some employers are turning to consumer wearables that people already own to track fevers or sleep as indicators of potential infection. But if those employers start looking closely at that data, they might see other habits that should remain private. Additionally, it's worth remembering that actual people are the ones with access to that data. And in some cases, not people from the HR department or someone specially trained for the job. That symptom survey or temperature tracking wand might be wielded by a random 25-year-old receptionist or office manager who has time on his hands. It's one thing to share health data with a professional who has some sort of training and discretion, but another to have it go to a random individual who may or may not keep it to themselves. A similar worry exists around video surveillance in the office. I recently read about using AI to tell when people behave badly in elevators and wondered what it might mean to have a camera and an algorithm constantly monitor and flag bizarre elevator behavior. I also think giving an underpaid security guard access to the footage is a problem. We're deploying a lot of new technology without spending a lot of time thinking about who can use it and how they can use it. We need to start thinking about both of those issues. We also need to start thinking about legal and ethical frameworks that can protect individuals when their every action at home and at work is potentially captured by a computer and rendered both intelligible and searchable. I don't have the answers beyond a growing awareness that we need to seek consent from those affected before deploying this technology and that companies should be building with anonymity in mind as opposed to simply anonymizing data after the fact. What else should we do?

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passingthetime · 4 years

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I was tagged by @crunchyspicysalmon, thank you a real ton!! 🌼

1. Are there any songs that make you cry? What are they? Do you have a specific memory with them?

Come Away Melinda by Uriah Heep and To Susan on the West Coast Waiting by Donovan made me cry a few times. No specific memory, they are just sad songs.

2. Do you like wearing jewelry? If so, what type/style?

I actually love wearing jewelry, as long as it's not too much. I like simple but pretty necklaces and cool rings the most. Wearing jewelry I can play with is very comforting to me.

3. Do you believe that there is another human “out there” for you to love and for them to love you? This doesn’t necessarily mean romanticly.

Not just one. I believe I am destined to meet every single person I meet in my life, and they all have an important role in it. Not necessarily for us to love each other, but in some cases that probably is the purpose.

4. What’s your ideal aesthetic like?

As warm and summery as possible! Sun, golden light, soft breeze, sparkling water, sitting outside in the full moon....

5. How do you prefer to listen to your music?

Loud, if no one's nearby. Otherwise annoying others makes me nervous so I prefer listening with a headphone at home and earphone on say public transport.

6. What do you think about spirituality?

I'm not sure... I do have some sort of spiritual beliefs, and I think they make my life a lot happier, but I don't really care if someone isn't spiritual, or is spiritual in a different way. What bothers me is when people try to push their own spirituality on others.

7. Do you ever daydream? Care to say what they’re about?

I suppose I do. But they are more often than not daynightmares. I'm more often daydreaming when I'm feeling a bit off. I've had a very vivid daynightmare about collapsing on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere and hitting my head on the asphalt, and a puddle of blood forming... Yeah, that kinda stuff...

8. If you could ever go back in time where in the world would you go and what time would it be?

Late 60s USA! I think I'm at just the right age to enjoy Woodstock to the fullest, haha. Or Meiji period Japan... Just for the aesthetic honestly? And curiosity, that's a really interesting mixture of cultural influences going on there.

9. Do you have any role models? Who are they and why?

Not quite role models, but there's people I look up to for certain things, and I suppose I try to achieve something on their level too. Some of these people are my man, my mom and my brother. But I also believe there is something they might be able to learn from me. Otherwise why am I in their lives?

10. What do you want to create in this world? What do you think needs to be created?

I just want to create art. I want to create beauty and give meaning to it. As for what needs to be created, I suppose as many different things as possible. Abundance of creation enriches our world.

11. How do you usually find new music?

Nowadays it's mainly Spotify and YouTube recommendations, but if my man puts on a song or album I don't know but like I'll of course ask what it is.

12. What are you proud of, but never have an excuse to talk about?

I don't need an excuse, if I'm proud of something I will sure as hell blabber on and on about it.

13. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

I never know the answer to this question and it comes up surprisingly often. I guess I just don't want any dinner guests.

14. What do you think the world will be like in ten years?

Thinner screens, cars with smarter AI, heavier surveillance over our lives, once again a general sense of progress with steps made further into space, stores that only accept debit/credit card and no cash all over Europe, subcultures that aim to not look and not be perfect on the rise... That's what comes to mind.

15. What’s something new you learned today?

Apparently the local madman is now a security guard at the subway.

16. Have you ever been to a concert? If so, what is the best concert you’ve ever been to?

Sure, having done volunteer work at festivals I got to see a few for free! My favourite was probably King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard on Sziget festival 2018, these guys are even better live than on their studio recordings. I'm glad to have seen them back then, I dislike their recent albums, and they probably play a lot of songs from those now. Uriah Heep in February this year was really memorable too those guys played music with such enjoyment!!

17. What makes you feel supported?

Depends on what I'm supposed to feel supported at... For example I'd feel supported at my art, if someone were to show what I created to someone else. I feel supported in sharing my thoughts when someone gives me space to speak. So I suppose small but clear ways to help are what make me feel supported the most?

18. Do you have your favorite fictitious character? If so, who is it and why?

Paprika from Paprika. I know she's technically fictional in a way even in the story, and she could not exist without the fundamentally different real life version of herself... But I suppose in some sense out of her two selves, she's the one who lives free. Plus, she a dream girl, haha. Aand I love her vibes.

19. What music puts you in a good mood?

I'm not sure, depends... But The Shadows, The Yardbirds and The Rolling Stones usually help to elevate my mood!

20. Where’s the weirdest place you’ve found something that you lost?

I lost my mom's scarf at a bookstore once. I went back to ask if anyone found it, but no luck. I had to listen to my mom scold me for it for a week or so. Eventually it turned out the scarf was in the sleeve of my jacket - the jacket I wore to school every day - all along.

I tag anyone who wants to do this!! 🌻

#thank you!!#tag game

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stark-web-warriors · 6 years

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Stark Contrast: Introduction

Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 3,632

Warnings: Swearing, reference to familial death, mentions of sex, mention of a drop of blood

Chapter Summary: Y/N first meets Tony Stark as his illegitimate daughter from a party 17 years ago. As Mr. Stark and her lawyer discuss custody, she must ponder if this is even something she wants.

A/N: The beginning is finally here! I hope you all enjoy this introductory chapter. It’s really focused on introducing the character of Y/N and how she came to live with Tony. Peter and the whole big bang will begin in Chapter One, I promise! Also, I know Project Arsenal is something completely different in the comics, but here I’m using it to refer to the new element that saved Tony’s life in Iron Man 2. If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, reblog this with “StarkContrastTaglist” in the notes and I‘ll add your username. Members of the tag list MUST reblog. Even if you don’t want to be added to the tag list, comment, reblog, send me an ask, anything helps. I want to hear from you all, even if you just want to tell me how your day is going!!!

Throughout her childhood, somewhere buried in a musty old closet was a document that held more family secrets than Y/N could care to know. Not that her life was great before Pandora’s Box opened. Her parents tried, but there was always that surreptitious foundation that made her feel like a black sheep, just left of center, and still outside the circle. One small life-ending car accident later, and she was discovered. The illegitimate daughter of Tony Stark, a poor girl from the slums of some nameless city in the midwest now suddenly torn away to upstate New York, riding in the car alongside a lawyer who was nervously adjusting his tie and preparing his big case. The clammy man awkwardly muttered an explanation about why this was not just another false claim, that this was his actual DNA pulsing through the result of a wild after party he threw in Seattle 17 years ago.

The driveway up to the obscene white building was long, winding and pointless. The security was at every corner, the vehicle constantly being stopped by AI surveillance that needed yet another verification. A scan here, a code there. Y/N couldn’t help but play with the automatic window in her boredom. The glass slid up and down with the flick of a switch. The sound of the outside air rushing in before being funnelled and cut off amused her childish mind, and the cold autumn air dusting over her cheeks was refreshing. Just the feeling of having control over the window made Y/N feel more secure in her current, dodgy affair. The car pulled up to the main entrance and beyond the silver-framed glass doors a large empty lobby could be seen, like a pristine shopping mall without the stores and gum-ball machines. The nervous man beside Y/N took a deep breath and then eagerly unlatched the door and pushed his way out. When she heard the door loudly click shut behind him, Y/N shrugged and shoved her shoulder into the door to follow suit.

It was sunny outside. The kind of beautiful August day that had no right to be so summer-y. The warmth radiated into Y/N’s cheek as she gazed upon the vast white monstrosity. She slowly stepped around in a circle, noticing the quin-jet on the runway in the front lawn and the slightly demolished trees of the uncultivated forest along the shoreline, flickers of the ocean water glimmering through the branches as it sloshed against the land. It was as ugly as it was beautiful. Y/N closed her eyes, just for a moment, and inhaled the fresh ocean air, it’s impurities tickling her nose as it rushed to her brain. She felt cleansed.

Finally, Y/N turned back around and jogged across the heated pavement to catch up with her lawyer, who was hurrying in a manner somewhere between stoic confidence and absolute frantic anxiety. The interior was a stark contrast to the bright white outside. A collection of black and grey floor tiles glowed in the natural light flooding in through the windows. Above their heads a couple of people in lab coats trotted across a glossy black catwalk, accented by the silver hardware that connected it to the glass panels and handrails. The two were speaking about in something that sounded like another language entirely, but she figured it had to be English given their London accents peeking through the dialogue. The whole place felt vast, but not empty.

A man approached, whom Y/N recognized as Harold Hogan, known to his friends as “Happy”. The man who was once Tony Stark’s bodyguard was now known for his responsibility in managing the operations of the Avengers Facility. His face was serious and his walk meant business. Y/N couldn’t imagine what inspired the nickname “Happy” outside of good, old-fashion sarcasm.

“Adam Goldberg?” Happy inquired, stepping up to Y/N’s lawyer with a slight scowl. Goldberg nodded tentatively, without any words. Happy huffed and turned to glare straight into Y/N’s eyes. “Is this your client?” he asked Goldberg passively, still staring at the teenager beside him.

“Yes,” Y/N heard Adam Goldberg state confidently as he straightened up. She was beginning to become annoyed by the accusing eyes of “Happy” Hogan.

Happy nodded, “Alright. You two follow me. Do not touch anything. Better yet, don’t look at anything. Look straight ahead the whole way.” The man turned and began briskly walking at a pace it was hard to keep up with. Goldberg looked excited as the two of you trotted along, like a little kid on ‘Bring Your Kid to Work Day’, like this was his first big case. In fact, it probably was to some extent. How many cases could possibly warrant meeting a celebrity the likes of Tony Stark? Y/N shook her head at his ignorant bedside manner. This was her life in the hands of a billionaire and whether or not he’d really want to take the responsibility of a child he never knew he had. Quite simply, it was stressful. So when Happy Hogan stopped on the side of a glossy black door, it’d be safe to say her heart stopped for a few seconds.

Mr. Goldberg reached for the golden door handle and eagerly pulled it open. Y/N couldn’t see behind his broad, suit-jacket wearing shoulders, adding to her heightened anxiety. She followed the grey-wool clad mass that was her lawyer into a dark office. Goldberg finally stepped aside to take a seat and Y/N’s breath hitched as she was faced with Tony Stark, slouched in a chair behind a large black desk and surrounded by gunmetal grey computers and machines. The room was lit up almost exclusively by the bright blue displays, depicting blueprints and schematics that seemed incomprehensibly detailed. Quickly, she took the seat to the right of Goldberg. It was strange to sit so close to a celebrity. She could see his pores, the faint scar across his left cheek and the grey hairs peeking out in his beard and his hairline. It all made him seem so real and human. The visual appearance of age made Y/N relax some as the feeling that this man was no longer the party monster that brought her into this world. He was a superhero, and that had to mature someone.

Still, she just lost her family, was at a meeting to determine what stranger she’d get tossed off to, and she wanted to be angry at this man. It was his immaturity that put her in a childhood of poverty. A rich man who had a fun night with a poor woman, and left her to raise the child. There was the small detail that her mother never told this Tony Stark that Y/N ever existed, but how would she even have gone about that? One night at a party doesn’t exactly warrant exchanging contact information on a hunk of Blackberry phone.

“Mr. Stark-” Goldberg began but was too startled to finish as Tony wordlessly jumped up from his chair and began working his way around the desk.

“So you’re what, fifteen?” Tony inquired dismissively, tapping a large silver pen against his palm as he meandered toward Y/N.

“Seventeen,” Y/N corrected passively, not hesitating long enough to skip a beat.

“And I’m just finding out about this now? A little suspicious, don’t you think?” Mr. Stark continued as he cornered around the evidently invisible lawyer.

Goldberg interrupted, “Sir, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t address my client directly-“

“I guess my mother just didn’t think you were the “father” type, though I can’t see why. Seems you made a pretty good sugar daddy for her,” Y/N remarked over her lawyer. It felt good to just give in to her hormonal teenage whims. She wanted to act out, and if there was a place to do it, of course it was this very important meeting.

Tony stopped and smiled. He set a hand on Goldberg’s shoulder and leaned in. “I like her,” he commented, before looking back at Y/N. She crossed her arms, leather jacket squeaking, and slouched back in her chair in defense. His face was different now. It showed a level of disassociation mixed with curiosity that quite frankly scared the teen he was staring down. It was like looking at an angry parent mocking fake innocence before blowing their top. The big crazy eyes and the slow approach. Y/N chewed her lip nervously as Tony Stark stepped behind her chair and set his hands on the corners of the backrest.

A zap ran down Y/N’s spine and she jumped away from Tony in her chair, yelling, “Ouch!” as her hand flew up to the back of her neck. It was wet and she pulled her hand down to see a small spot of blood on her palm, nothing that wouldn’t stop in a matter of seconds, and still blood. “What the hell?” Y/N yelled, shifting in her chair to face Tony Stark. She was shocked, confused, angry, and she wanted answers even if she couldn’t form a sentence that communicated any of that.

“DNA test,” Tony shrugged, pulling back the object Y/N had previously thought was a pen, and now understood to be the machine that stabbed her moments ago. The man smirked at the obnoxious teen's obvious frustration as he backed away confidently.

“You couldn’t have just asked?” Y/N sputtered.

“You see, I really couldn’t have,” Tony sighed. “DNA tests are a tricky thing. Could be faked, could be toxic, and it was much more fun to see your face do that thing.”

“What thing?” The insecurity was already forming, though for what she didn’t know. She watched as the man placed the not-a-pen object into a slot that had opened up in his desk. It disappeared before their eyes as it was sucked away.

“Mr. Stark, really-“ Goldberg tried again, only for Tony to ignore him and begin explaining.

“We’ll see the results from that in a few seconds, and then we can talk.”

Y/N adjusted in her chair. She really didn’t know what would happen. For all she knew, she wasn’t actually Tony Stark’s kid and her mother was a compulsive liar. All she had to tell her otherwise was a shitty piece of paper that had been hidden in a closet for years if not her entire life. And what if she was Tony Stark’s daughter? Would that really be any better? He was an annoying, childish stranger from what she had seen and what business did he have suddenly trying to be a father? That is, if he even would try. It was all very agonizing, and Y/N found herself compulsively tugging at the sleeves of her leather jacket.

“Now I’m gonna be honest with you, kid,” Tony started, “I don’t remember your mother at all. I don’t remember a lot of women, to her credit, but when someone starts knocking down your door claiming they have your DNA, you have to be careful,” Y/N couldn’t tell if she wanted to roll her eyes or cry at what this man was saying. She felt lost and lonely, and he was definitely only making it worse. “Especially now. We don’t know who’s out there, and when the media has given us the whole ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ gig, who knows what kind of people-”

“The results are in, Sir.” It was like a voice from the sky. Y/N hadn’t noticed any speakers in the room, and wasn’t prepared to be hearing the voice of this AI interface the entire world had heard about without actually hearing it, called “J.A.R.V.I.S.”

“Right on time,” Tony commented, plopping back down into his chair, slightly sideways with a leg hanging over the armrest. “What’ve you got for me, Jarvis?”

“It’s a match.” Tony’s smug faced drained into a pale expression of nothingness. He stared vacantly into the wall beyond his dangling leg.

“Get out,” Tony mumbled.

“What?” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she spoke, though her face was contorted in a type of concern and confusion she had never known.

“Get out, kid,” Tony commanded aggressively as he once again stood up, mentioning, “I want to talk to your lawyer,” as he hurried around the desk and opened the office door. Y/N kept staring at the manic man as he gestured like a doorman. “Vamoose. Move your caboose, kid, I’ve not got time to read you a whole Dr. Seuss book,” Stark complained as he dropped an exhausted hand.

Hurriedly, Y/N collected herself and scuttled out the door, not sure where she was supposed to go while this was going on, or what that even meant. She gasped as the door slammed behind her, wind gusting through her hair at the sudden movement. Her brows knit together and her lips gaped as she began to panic. Eyes watering as she stared at the floor. A throat clearing beside her pulled her back into reality, turning to see the now softer, yet clearly uncomfortable face of Happy Hogan. He didn’t even speak, just nodded his head to the side and started walking. Y/N followed him as she presumed that is what he intended, though everything seemed so different here it was hard to tell. He led her into an open lounge they had passed on the way to Tony’s office earlier. There was a wall of windows behind a large black leather couch, that made a “U” shape around an unlit stone fireplace. Directly behind was a bar lined with various expensive-looking liquor bottles. Y/N turned to look at Happy, trying to figure out if this was where she was supposed to be. He shifted awkwardly and nodded toward the couch while clearing his throat again. She sadly looked at the floor and walked over to the couch, taking a seat before looking back for approval from Happy, still back at the walkway. Upon seeing her on the couch, he promptly walked off back toward Tony’s office. She was alone.

She was crying before she could even process it. Y/N hated crying, but here she was doing it. A tear here for how overwhelmed she was, a sniff there for how scared she was, and a long exhale for how exhaustingly alone she felt. Time was slow. Even as the orange glow of sunset flooded into the room, Y/N felt as though she’d be trapped in that awful moment forever. She watched the sun sink lower into the sky as her tears dried, the weight of a thousand buildings on her chest. It was devastating as the burning light silhouetted the trees and glimmered in the ocean. After what she could swear had been hours, Y/N finally heard placid voices and turned to the open end of the room that aligned with the hallway. She saw Happy and Mr. Goldberg walk past, their giant shadows hurrying against the warm glow of the wall behind them. Neither so much as turned to look at her. She caught only a fragment of their conversation. Something about the logistics of transferring materials, but they disappeared behind the second wall so quickly. Y/N couldn’t be bothered with being concerned anymore. It had been too many hours that day she had worried, so she shrugged off the appearance and turned back to the last of the sunset. The flaming orb had all but disappeared, and all that was left of its presence was a pink hue over the shoreline. Sunset always moved at such an exponential pace. Once it was almost over, you’d blink and it’d be done.

It was beginning to grow dim in the room. It had probably been about 15 minutes since Mr. Goldberg had left and the windows were providing minimal light, but the whole place was muted and blue without the sun to light it up. Y/N almost found herself feeling drowsy, but was pulled right back as suddenly the fluorescent ceiling lights popped on, causing her to swing her head around suddenly to find the source, eventually landing on a tentative Tony Stark not quite standing in the room as he half hid behind the wall closest to his office.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted calmly, as he walked into the space, hands hidden in the pockets of his blue jeans. The imposing glow of his chest piece polluted his black t-shirt as he approached Y/N. She watched him carefully as he sat down beside her, about another person’s worth of space between them. It was quiet. They both stared at their own shuffling feet and between the two of them, nothing was said for what seemed like an eternity. “Happy talked to Goldberg about getting your stuff here. It’ll be in your room sometime tomorrow morning.”

This was a lot more information than what was said, and still Y/N felt the need to clarify, “So I’m staying? Like, here?”

“Yeah. I mean, this is where I live and I guess I’m your guardian now, so this is home.” Tony seemed to be speaking aimlessly, struggling to find the right words.

“Weird,” Y/N responded simply, sitting on her hands uncomfortably.

“Weird,” Tony agreed before remaining silent for another hopelessly long amount of time. The moon was beginning to take place in the early-evening lavender sky when he shifted, pointing his knees toward the teen. “Look, I am sorry but I really don’t remember your mother.”

“Why would you even say that?” Y/N asked, suddenly standing up and facing the now small looking man on the couch.

Tony sat up and defensively snapped back, “I was just trying to be honest-”

“Honest doesn’t make it okay. I don’t know you. You’re a strange man who sexed my mother, and now I’m standing in your house without warning. I am not here for honest right now,” Y/N ranted. Her face was heating up and she felt the need to begin pacing a small path in front of him, only about a meter wide. “And where was that honesty when you decided to stab me in the fucking neck?”

“I had to make sure you weren’t just another ‘fake news’ case.” Tony’s face turned harder as he now stood up from the couch, not much taller than Y/N, and probably not as threatening as he would like to be as a consequence. “I’m trying to tell you that I cannot remember anything about that night. I don’t remember your mother. From what I can tell, I was so blackout drunk that night I forgot to use a condom. My mistake.”

Y/N jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?” she shouted. “I didn’t have a choice to be born. I just was; whatever the reason. I just lost my entire family and now I’m supposed to live with a strange man. I’m scared!” She near screamed.

“Well I’m scared, too, kid,” Tony stated firmly, staring her down. “Neither of us asked for this, okay? I’m not a dad. I don’t have the prerequisites for that. I’m just a guy who now has custody of a teenager. What am I supposed to do with that?” The sound of his voice beginning to break apart sobered Y/N from her previous state of anger. The man took a calming breath before continuing, “I’m trying to be honest about not remembering your mother so you don’t have any pretenses about me. I can’t be your parent—not in the way she was.”

“She was a bitch anyway,” Y/N commented submissively, plopping back on the couch.

“You don’t miss her?” Tony sat down again, this time next to her. His words, for the first time, expressed genuine interest.

“I mean, I do, like she cared for me and all, but she had her shortcomings, too. She lied about who my biological father was for the last 17 year of my life, which is all of them, so that kind of sucks.” Y/N felt a little embarrassed about the dialectics she was toying with, and felt the need to simplify it all into a simple, “It’s complicated.”

“I get that,” Tony agreed, cautiously placing an arm along the back of the couch behind Y/N’s head. “My old man was a pain in the ass. Couldn’t even find the time to acknowledge my existence. Then after he died I found out about Project Arsenal.” The curious teen looked Stark in the eyes for the first time that night and pulled her legs onto the couch so she could sit sideways and face him. “It saved my life, but it still doesn’t make up for getting ignored through an entire childhood.”

“Big mood,” Y/N nodded.

“Big what?”

“Big mood,” Y/N repeated. Tony turned his palms up and shook his head, making her giggle to know that even if he is one of the most relevant people in the world, he still was an old guy who didn’t know the lingo. “It’s like, I feel that. You know?” For the first time since meeting the world famous Tony Stark, she saw a genuine smile begin to play at the corner of his lips. “You’re not getting this, are you?” Y/N presumed. “It means it’s relatable,” she tried again, laughing at the strange man. She knew he was right in that he couldn’t be a “dad” to her, but if this was Tony, she figured she could survive having one of those.

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petersquips · 5 years

Text

Stark Contrast: Introduction

Masterlist || Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four (pt 1) | Chapter Four (pt 2)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 3,632

Warnings: Swearing, reference to familial death, mentions of sex, mention of a drop of blood

Chapter Summary: Y/N first meets Tony Stark as his illegitimate daughter from a party 17 years ago. As Mr. Stark and her lawyer discuss custody, she must ponder if this is even something she wants.

A/N: The beginning is finally here! I hope you all enjoy this introductory chapter. It’s really focused on introducing the character of Y/N and how she came to live with Tony. Peter and the whole big bang will begin in Chapter One, I promise! Also, I know Project Arsenal is something completely different in the comics, but here I’m using it to refer to the new element that saved Tony’s life in Iron Man 2. Please feel free to comment, reblog, send me an ask, anything helps. I want to hear from you all, even if you just want to tell me how your day is going!!!

If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, Inbox me and I‘ll add your username. Members of the tag list MUST reblog. I look forward to your feedback, friends!