[WP] You’re a Superhero whose superpower is Deescalation. You fight villains by talking through their issues and helping them to make better choices.
No one sees the night before a magician's act, the beads of sweat forming as a pale faced man checks and double checks those traps and tricks that he must escape.
Nor the writing process of a comedian, as she crafts a solid fifteen minutes of material that is written and re-written to prepare for heckles and forgotten lines.
No one sees my process either. The mixture of slight premonition and person skills that lead me to plot my approach. The best of all possible approaches. With a margin for error of course.
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I had been called to the scene that I'd seen developing on the news last night. Despite everything, I'd insisted on waiting until 10am. Any sooner could have been lethal. Any sooner, and I may not have made the interesting discovery about how things could go.
I walked slowly up to the building, an apple juice box carton in one hand and a clipboard in the other. I had the basic details of the case I had gone over a thousand times, but they'd stop believing me if they caught a glimpse of blank paper. I hated ties, but I had this one done in a scruffy knot. Smart would have worked better, but I'll take an extra half hour of prep if it means I don't have to wear the tie properly.
I walked into the door of the laboratory, turned down a narrow corridor, and took a lift to the lowest basement floor. It was the only way to give them enough time to prepare for me arrival and not shoot me out of instinct. I even pressed an extra button to stop the lift halfway and give them a small amount of extra time.
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I actually like elevator music. Come at me.
----
*bing*
GET ON THE GROUND
"What?" I responded. "The machines are too loud!"
ON. THE GROUND.
A shady figure stood behind a control panel in the centre of the room. They were pointing a gun at me with a shaky arm, but their arm over the panel was steady. Why do you aim with a non-dominant arm? Only when the gun is your second most important weapon.
I took a swivel chair.
"You're...The Future Cometh? Don't worry, I'm not coming any closer. I'm in a swivel chair, I can't move fast in this thing. What should I call you bud?". The swivel chair thing was a lie. I prided myself on being able to clear a full room in three seconds with a good push. Maybe two.
Call me...ah, well.
"The whole name is quite long is all."
Yeah, I..uh, never expected anyone to actually have to use it to my face
"Sorry, the machines are still a bit loud. Can I move closer? Say, to this row with the plant enthusiast?"
...Sure. No closer.
"Cheers. Imma go for TFC. That ok with you? It's a good full name, but TFC is a little nicer for conversation". I stopped very slightly shy of the plant-encrusted computer, to be clear I was not pushing boundaries. This was going well. We were on a main path of events. Even better, we were on the one critical path.
TFC is nice. What do you want? I'm going to destroy this place. There's nothing you can do.
"And there's nothing I want to do, other than chat. I insisted on this. The men upstairs (and it is mostly men) wanted to send down a team with weapons. Stop you before you could destroy any of this. Your research and everyone else's.
My research? The figure cackled. It was a fine cackle. My death plans you mean. They could wipe out entire cities with what I have made.
I took a sip of my juice cartoon, gesturing at TFC to continue. I glanced at my notes a little as he spoke, trying to focus roughly near where the relevant scrawlings were for each part of the speech
I just wanted a good job. I wanted a steady income. I'm not a bad person. But before I realised what happened, they'd got me working on projects. Projects that, well...
Staying silent for thirty whole seconds was tough. I'd chosen a squeeky chair and knew what any noise now would mean.
Projects that I didn't want to be part of. Every group is slightly separate, according to the moral crimes they can commit. I found the practical testers. I don't know where they get the subjects, but they can't be volunteers. No one would volunteer to have their skin melt like that. But in their heads, the practical testers weren't the bad ones, they could never have come up with torture tools like this. And us researchers never imagined things would actually be used, or didn't imagine the purpose. That was up to the doctors who thought it was just consultant work. Some of them assumed it was for movies.
I found out. I don't know who that target is, but I know it could wipe out a city. A big one. And there would be no defence, and no warning. One day, I and everyone in our company would look up at the news, and realise what our work had done. I just realised before it happened.
"So. What now? I can see your arm is getting tired, I'm happy to move back a little if you want because you wont be able to hold the gun up much longer". I could see the figure consider it, and then put the gun down before I could move.
No. It's ok. There's nothing you can do anyway. As soon as I take my finger off this button, this building goes up and all the research with it.
"Including you?"
Including me
Two branches spread from this point. Two different paychecks, although I didn't care much for that.
"And, all the research?"
Yes..All the research.
Another pause. I counted 124 seconds in my head.
"You didn't save any research did you?"
How...Who are you?
"Doesn't matter. I'm sorry, you're right, there's nothing I can do to save you. " As the other branch closed, it became the truth. "But I don't want what you're about to do to be in vain. Not for the sake of vanity.". I had now hidden the juice box so as not to distract them. The plant foliage provided just enough camouflage if you weren't looking straight at it.
I mean. You're right. But it's at home. My son will still be there
I stood up, and started to leave. I couldn't know before talking where the other research would be hidden, but I knew who I was dealing with. Cogs started whirring in my brain. "I know you're smart. You can target the weapon to hit your house too. It's in hard files, because you knew they could track any code. So, here's what is going to happen. You're going to give me your son's phone number. I'm going to call him, and ask him to come here, saying you're in trouble at work. It's the only thing that will get him to leave without question. That will give you a five minute window to enact your plan without harming him.
...why can't I make the call?
"Because you're going to need all your will to do what you need to do. You know you might ask him to save some work. He can't know anything about what you do until it's too late. And I want to be the one to let him know, before the police do.
A solid minute's pause.
alright
---
After some negotiation about small details, including a pre-recorded message saying goodbye, I walked into the lift and left the place. I felt filthy. I told the CEOs that this was just one of those times when I couldn't do anything. They do happen from time to time. I said coldly that they'd be fine though, that it was a non-threat. No reason to leave the building perimeter. They died 27 minutes later. I played the goodbye message in a local coffee shop to the son, and held him in one arm.
I came across an escape sequence where no one died in my first half hour of preparation. I'd found five more by the end of the second hour. But some of the strings had seemed odd to me. I'd dug in, and realised what the company was, and what I was stopping. I had mapped out this particular thread in its entirety by the early morning hours.
You can't de-escalate everything forever. Sometimes, you have to let the tension go. I just get to choose where it goes boom.
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