12th King/DB-A Day in the Life of a King
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
((A bit of writing spawned by work-boredom, posted in HEROID's "Domestic Blitz II" thread.
Warning! The following contains spoilers for the Westin Phipps contact in City of Villains' lvl40-45 range.))
Domestic Blitz: A Day in the Life of a King
PERSONAL LOG ENTRY
Today, I have ended my business relations with the Arachnos-loyal sadist, Westin Phipps.
To observe an individual so devoid of overarching purpose has been most intriguing. Even the worst of my former colleagues had some form of palpable goal beyond self-preservation and satisfaction of the pleasure of the moment. Mr Phipps, on the other hand, acts to stay within the good favour of Arachnos, while feeding his own addiction of tasting the suffering of another.
Naturally, as he is a client whose public identity masks what truly lies beneath, my reputation has been slightly altered by working alongside him.
"Oh jeez, that's-"
"Did you hear what he did to that poor teacher?"
"Yeah, man. Every time another one comes in from Paragon, it's only a few months 'til their retirement shows up on TV."
Given time, public opinion will normalize as others commit acts far worse than those I stand accused of. As for the thoughts of certain other organizations, I suppose time will tell.
"I wonder if we'll get help from him the next time some of the Banes go loopy."
"Y'know, I kinda hope not. That whole thing...it just felt...wrong."
"Been thinking of joining Wyvern if I don't get promoted to Nullifier soon, actually."
"How come?"
"I might get a clear shot at the scumwad that took out the old commander. She just wanted to save that one Spider..."
Though Mr Phipps and myself parted ways on the best of terms one could hope for with an individual such as he, I have found him unfit to inhabit humanity's future in any form. Akin to former associates such as Mr Wheeler, Phipps has proven himself a weak link in the species' genepool, and thus will be pared out.
A simple task, thankfully. Only minor observation is required.
Should he survive to the next century, I will personally cut short his life. In the highly unlikely event of procreation, I have already taken the liberty of exposing him to a miniscule nanotech payload. Future generations of the Phipps bloodline will bear an 80% chance of being composed of the genetic signatures of a key figure I encountered recently, far more deserving of survival. Unfortunate that there is such a margin of error, but deleting the 20% failure output would be of little effort should it come to pass.
For precise records of my work with Phipps, reference related uploads within Poseidon's databanks. [BE-8842337]
As a positive side-result of these experiences, I am now in possession of several additional Preserved. Still unable to guarantee prolonged consciousness, but I will shortly activate and debrief the remaining samples.
LOG ENTRY ENDS
Closing the link to Poseidon, the 12th King stepped away from his desk and towards the monitor bank in his personal quarters. He paused in front of the screen-ridden wall.
Soundlessly uttering a word, he waited. Then, the wall folded open, enveloping his body in a series of accordion-like panels. Just as quickly, they retracted, leaving no trace of anyone in the room.
Now within his private sanctuary, the blue-suited man approached three small, metallic boxes that lay on a research table. His robotic hand passed over each one, and they silently awoke. A chromed orb rose from the shimmering surface of each box, all observing the man that stood before them.
"Of this current era, you have been found worthy of continuation," said the 12th King. "Worthy to advance to the next stage of humanity's evolution."
He gestured to the centre and left-most boxes.
"By your joint conviction, a powerful form of mental programming was, if only briefly, disrupted. You both bear the will necessary to improve, and prosper."
The 12th King gently pressed the pair's visual sensors back down into their cube-like forms.
"Your essences have been preserved, but cannot maintain prolonged function at this time. When I have solved that boundary, you will be reawakened. But for now...rest."
Turning to the third box, the 12th King picked it up and continued to speak.
"And you, miss. I too have had close working relations with the Freakshow. Thus, I find that I can sympathize with your previous situation, granted that you placed yourself into it."
He turned, allowing the box to view a dimly-lit corridor that spanned out from the side of the room.
"As you have heard, you will be dormant for some time. The halls before you will be your home during that period. Of course, you will not be conscious, which will alleviate any prolonged boredom or isolation."
He rested his hand over the box's visual sensor orb.
"Do not worry. Your lineage is, in one form or another, assured. When you awake, I hope you will appreciate the vague irony that lies within one such solution."
The 12th King's hand pressed down, and the box fell dormant.
After a few moments, a small robot approached. The blue-suited man glanced down at it.
"Orpheus. Place these three within the designated receptacles."
The robot glanced up, wearily.
"If there is one thing that remains reliable," it droned, "it would have to be your persistence."
The small metal being collected the three cubes, and slowly wandered down the dark corridor. It muttered one more time.
"Reliable, but hopeful. The only real hope I can see, anymore."
