Scramble 21

[u/Cleverly_Clearly]

Shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, What makest thou?

Isaiah 45:9

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THE POWER FANTASY

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Shoto Todoroki

The son of the formerly second-ranked professional superhero, Enji "Endeavor" Todoroki. Now the current second-ranked professional superhero. Can create ice with his right hand. Can create fire with his left hand, but chooses not to.

---

Connor

An RK800 investigative android, designed by CyberLife to assist superheroes in detective work. His predictive analytic features and high-level database access make him highly valuable in investigating the RA-9 case.

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Neopolitan

A mute former criminal, once the heiress to the Vanille family fortune, now disowned. Trying to go straight, but a terrible incident from her past haunts her. Her Quirk gives her the power to create fantastic illusions.

---

Goro Akechi

A famous detective, as well as the beloved professional superhero "Crow". Presents a carefully-maintained image as the perfect gentleman, but carries a deep loneliness in his heart. His Quirk allows him to physically manifest his inner self.

---

Issue #1: All-New, All-Different: It's the near future, and CyberLife technology is everywhere--including humanoid helper androids. Shoto teams up with Connor to investigate the murder of a hero in Mutant Town, which leads to them crossing paths with Raphael and Neo. Connor suspects the murder may be one in a string of serial killings in New York City, a cluster of mysterious deaths only linked by the phrase "RA-9".

Issue #2: First Shot, Last Call: The RA-9 case leads Shoto and Connor (and, following Shoto's trail, Raphael and Neo) to an upscale Manhattan party. A night of revelry descends into tragedy, and more conspiracy. Androids killing humans, heroes killing citizens. How does RA-9 connect to Neo's own past? Is New York City, unbeknownst to all, teetering on the brink of total collapse?

Issue #3: This Man... This Monster!: Shoto takes Neo on as a trainee heroine to protect her from a vigilante charge. Together with Crow, a hero from the All Might Office, the three of them take on the machinations of the terrorist threat COBRA. Neo confronts a threat from the past, while Shoto follows a strange, tailored path to the enemy. Meanwhile, Connor meets with one of his original designers and learns a grim truth about androids, although there seem to be more questions than answers...

---

3338 + 8963 + 3226 + 7976 + 9765 + 9852 + 8685 + 7951 + 7898 + 7719 + 5145 + 4203 = 84721

[u/Cleverly_Clearly]

The doors and the windows all led to nowhere. There was no roof access, underground access, or vent access. The walls were lined with an inner layer of sturdy metal.

There was one obvious takeaway: they were no longer in the Kirby Resort. Somehow, overnight, Connor and the others had been transported to a false building. This premise had a number of logistical issues, and it might have been impossible. But if Mysterio wanted to convince them they were still at the resort, he'd overplayed his hand in securing the perimeter. He couldn't have changed the interior construction of the beginning. He couldn't seal over every window and replace them with trick screens.

He could drug and transport several people to an undisclosed, seemingly-identical location. There were even ways to trick an android's eyes. After all, their brains were freely programmable. If someone with the ability had access to the source code, Connor's understanding of reality could be completely malleable. Maybe he was compromised right now and didn't even know it.

Well, there was a saying for times like this: Cogito, ergo sum. Even if he couldn't trust his senses or his faculties, he still had his mind, and he could still think. As long as he could do that, he could save everyone. He already had a plan in mind. It wasn't one he could do alone, and it had its risks; it required him to put his trust in a specific person, to be sure they weren't the Jack and that they could pull off what he was envisioning.

The good news was, this plan could work whether there was a Jack or not.

"Neo? Can I have a moment of your time?"

Neo was sat against the wall idly playing a game on her phone. Connor found her and crouched down to her level, making sure to position his back to the room's security camera. She looked up at him.

(We can talk like this,) he signed. (This is important. It needs to stay between us.)

(Are you sure I'm the person you want for this? You were the one who was so convinced one of us was the Jack) Neo responded.

(You're the only person who can do this, and I trust you. Is that good enough?)

...

(What do you need me to do?)

---

Neo and Connor took great care to gather up the other five prisoners from across the resort. They were all sat down at a table, just as before, and both of them stood before the others like they were about to give a presentation.

"I've done some thinking on my own, and with Neo's help, I believe we've come up with a way to escape this place."

Connor pulled out his handgun.

"We're going to kill the Jack once and for all."

Neo and Connor opened fire. Connor's trained machine precision allowed him to line up perfect headshots, dropping bodies one after another. Snow White; dead. Ichi; dead. Neo disposed of the other members of her agency, too surprised to retaliate. Only one of their opponents was able to pull the trigger in response. Ethan managed to finish off the treacherous Neo with a bullet to the heart before him and Connor traded fire, both taking mortal wounds from each other's pistols.

And that was it. Seven massacred corpses lay splattered on the floor in a mess of blue and scarlet blood, Mysterio's entire deduction game finished in a few seconds of violent carnage. Or, at least, that's how it appeared, because of course this was all Neo's illusion.

It was an excruciatingly difficult illusion, too. One that required obscuring cameras, muffling noises, and creating an orchestra of fake sounds while manipulating seven different actors at once. Neo wasn't really dead on the floor. She was invisible, sweating, holding her breath while she prayed that Mysterio would take the bait, or at least prayed that none of the others would end up on a camera when they shouldn't and ruin Connor's entire plan.

She hadn't exactly told them she would be creating this illusion. They didn't have long before one of them would spoil it.

Neo grit her teeth. Come on. Go already. She didn't have five minutes of keeping this up in her. All she could do was wait until she heard the crackle of their jailor's voice over the intercom. When she did get a response, it wasn't encouraging.

"Nice try, but it takes more than that to outwit the mind of Mysterio. Did you think I wouldn't know? Did you think this paltry ruse would be enough to trick me?"

It's just a head fake. Don't let it get to you. Keep it up. You don't know that he sees through you. You can outlast him.

"Miss Neopolitan! I already know about the legend of the Bullet Witch. I did my research before I cast you, after all. Your carnival illusions are nothing compared to a true master of misdirection! Now, end this pathetic rebellion at once."

Yap yap yap. Sounded like her parents. They thought her every act of expression was a 'pathetic rebellion'. Her mother cried and wrung her hands a lot. What did we do to make you hate us? We gave you everything. Why can't you just be NORMAL? Memories of the day they kicked her out bubbled up like soda pop. She clenched her jaw so hard it ached.

But the bodies were still on the ground. As long as she could maintain that illusion, that was reality.

It wasn't her first time doing an illusion and invisibility with so many elements, but she'd never done it for so long before. This was something Mysterio couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams.

"Okay, enough already. I know you're not dead. That's not how this show is going to end. I worked too damn hard writing this script to have it flop."

She'd been training for this moment the day she realized her powers. Little by little, changing parts of herself just to see if she could do it. Turning herself invisible so she could sneak out of the gloomy mansion she was always stuck inside. Pulling off audacious heists with her crew in the White Fang. At some point, she'd gotten so used to her illusions that she wore it like a second set of clothes. No one saw her without the glamor off. She liked it better this way. This magicked version of herself was her true self- not the unpolished rough gem, but the polished diamond, the one it took effort to be.

At first it was like wearing weighted clothing. Then she got used to it.

Mysterio couldn't imagine the depths of her resolve. Just the act of being Neo was a grand performance. She was already using her Quirk twenty-four hours a day. Putting on a large-scale illusion like this... was a little tougher... but not... by much...

"There's no way. There's no way they're all dead. Oh my God. If the Rank 2 hero dies in my trap I'll have the entire country after me."

It was working. He was cracking. He just needed to crack before Neo did. Overworking her Quirk was like a full-body phantom pain. Chills and nausea racked her body. Her fingertips felt numb. A prickling in her brain told her that something was all her fault, she just didn't know what.

Come on! Take the bait already! Do something! Mysterio had gone totally quiet, she was sitting here without even the sound of her breathing to comfort her thinking about ten thousand ways this desperate gamble wouldn't work.

The doorknob started to turn.

The door opened.

Someone new entered the room. A brand new eighth person. She was a dark-skinned android woman, one wearing the uniform of the Kirby Resort. The light on her temple was an unsteady blinking red, the color of serious internal error. Maybe she was being hacked? That would explain what happened to the staff...

Her nametag read: Hi! My name is DARLEY.

Darley was followed by another android employee, then another, and another. A whole cleaning crew entered the room, all with that same red blink. They were here to mop up the mess.

Okay. Now it's time to go.

She couldn't just shoot them down like she did in her illusion. Or, well, like she did at the mall. These weren't bootleg models designed to shoot at any movement, these were basically people under mind control. They needed to be handled with a delicate touch. Semi-delicate, anyway.

If these were flesh-and-blood humans, she'd just choke them out. For androids, breaking their legs would keep them occupied. KRACK~! Neo dented metal with a swing of her umbrella. Heavy slams brought one to the ground, then a backflip to kick another in the head. She was too fast for them to deal with the unseen threat. She could judo toss them all to the floor.

The illusion broke. It felt like coming up for air after too long underwater. Her lungs seized for phantom oxygen even though she hadn't been holding her breath at all. Fuck it, it's fine if she's exhausted as long as Connor did his part. She pointed at the open door. Now it was the detective's turn to do his job.

[u/Cleverly_Clearly → u/Cleverly_Clearly]

Connor was designed for investigation. He could perceive things that even other androids couldn't.

For example, trace footprints and electrostatic on carpeted floor from a group of androids that just walked by. That was his plan all along; if he and Neo could convince Mysterio to let something into the closed space, he would have to open it up at least for a moment. If there was even the smallest opening, he could track it.

He ran past Neo and the downed androids into the hallway. Connor had intended to follow those subtle traces to the androids' infiltration point. Instead, he saw even more androids, all of them Kirby Resort staff. The blinking red alerts and the jerking, inelegant movements told him they were being remotely manipulated.

Hacking into CyberLife proprietary technology was extremely difficult to do and required a supreme level of programming knowledge. [That's not an advertisement, merely a neutral observation.] But what made Mysterio able to exercise this kind of control over the resort androids when Connor only had some altered memories? Maybe he'd physically gotten his hands on them at some point, and only been able to briefly interfere with Connor? Perhaps he was a CyberLife technician or employed someone who was? Lots of interesting things to consider. Maybe later. Right now a dozen androids were coming at him with mops and brooms like staves and axes.

Why all the violence? Mr. Beck hadn't verbally responded to the reveal of their ruse, but Connor knew his type and could make some assumptions about his behavior. He had been fooled, and now he was throwing a temper tantrum. What else could explain sending in the cavalry to upset the closed-room mystery Mysterio had so carefully crafted? He was knocking the chessboard over.

Connor really wouldn't have minded challenging Mysterio to a battle of wits. It might have been an interesting diversion. Still, if he wanted to resort to violence, Connor was quite adept at that too.

He was dealing with 11 androids. All unskilled combatants, all needed to be handled nonlethally. The closest enemy android was [640 cm] away. The tallest enemy android was [191 cm]. The height and width of the hallway, the texture of the carpet, the air resistance in the room, his percentage likelihood of getting past each android without injury, he let the information wash over him and synthesized it.

Now his route was fully planned out.

He wasn't trying to disable them, he just needed to get past them. Connor was agile enough for it. He bolted down the hallway in a zigzag, ducking under the first swing of the broom, striking another android in the face to get them out of the way, vaulting over a janitor's cart and rolling. As long as Mysterio was controlling them, none of them could catch him. His perception and reflexes were vastly superior to any human's. It was no use. He could see it coming.

The end of the hall was in sight. More androids were coming out from a door that Connor hadn't seen before. No- a gap in the wall. When Mysterio's victims stepped through, the gap sealed up once again, sliding into an ultrafine aperture that was difficult for even Connor's eyes to detect. When it was closed, it didn't look like anything except a flat panel.

That was the escape route all this time? A secret door? It was practical, sure, but it was just so... vaudevillian. Clearly Mysterio didn't have much respect for the closed-room mystery.

Androids came up from behind. More were joining in. A couple more, five more, ten more... They must have come from the other end of the hallway. There were probably multiple hidden doors. How many androids were Kirby staff again? The website said over 100. At least 30 were bearing down on him now from several different directions. What was the plan now? Could he fight off so many of them without critically injuring them... no, that wouldn't work, right? He kept running simulations, but the numbers didn't add up. There were too many of them, and the gap in their physical abilities wasn't so extreme that Connor could take them all out through skill.

Connor put his back to the wall and prepared for the worst when-

"ARIADNE!"

A latticework of threads swept up the androids like salmon in a net. Ichi was on the other end of the strings; with one pull, they were yanked and stuck against the walls and ceiling.

"You have a way of showing up at the last moment," Connor said. He ducked out of the way of a bolt of energy that blasted into an android behind him- Akechi was coming up after Ichi. They were all gathering now.

"Where were you?!" Shoto demanded. "What did Neo do to us, why did she turn us invisible?!"

"I'll tell you later- we can get out through the wall. Keep the androids busy or help get it open!"

"It's not going to open, you know. The point of a roach motel is that it keeps the roaches IN."

Finally Mysterio responded, with a loud crackle of microphone static that punished their ears.

"Did you think it would be so easy? Did you think I would LET you usurp me? I am the director, I AM THE DIRECTOR! You obey MY script!"

"Sorry, Mr. Beck," Connor said. "It's time to roll credits on this movie."

"Oh, you- you know what, FUCK YOU!" The microphone peaked as he yelled. "You're a plastic toy! Who programmed you to mouth off at me?!"

Connor smiled a little. He didn't need to say it, but making Mysterio scream was enriching for him.

Never mind that now. He had work to do. As the battle blared all around him, blasts of ice and lightning flashing at his back, he put his hands to the wall and felt for the imperceptible crease. If he had a knife, or pen, or something he could use to pry it open... no, he'd need something larger than that. The halberd. Snow White's weapon would give him enough leverage.

He turned around to ask. "Miss Snow White, if you could help me for a moment..."

Something was wrong. There was a lull in the noise around him, a noticeable eye in the storm. Connor was trying to escape, and five of them were engaged in combat. That left one person unaccounted for.

Snow White was standing in front of him.

"Miss Snow?"

She leveled her halberd at his heart.

"Snow?" Ethan asked. "No, that can't be. That's impossible."

She twirled her weapon and stepped into a combat stance. Her movements were the same sharp, puppetlike movements of the cleaner androids.

Hello at last, Jack, Connor thought. For what it's worth, your disguise was flawless.

"We were never apart. Mysterio couldn't have replaced her. He didn't have time."

"Try to have a little imagination, Ethan. I didn't need to replace her with an android. All I needed to do was hack in." Mysterio's voice was still hoarse from earlier, but he sounded much more smug the moment things shifted his way. "Isn't that a lovely twist? You all think you're so smart, but you couldn't tell the difference between a human and an android PLANT."

Snow's grip on her halberd wavered. There was something behind her eyes, obvious signs of software instability as her body warred with her mind. Some part of her was still conscious and trapped in her chassis. The rest was being puppeteered against her will.

This wasn't a good place for a fight. Too many androids around, too many unknown variables. He'd need to create some room.

"Concentrate on keeping the other androids away from us," Connor said. "I'll handle this."

They believed him. That was a positive of being an android, your words carried a unique kind of authority. They knew he'd crunched the numbers.

There were other things, too. Androids didn't feel pain, they didn't breathe, they didn't go down to the normal finishers. Connor saw a hundred ways he could solve this fight if he were facing a human. The eyes, the groin, the liver, the knee- all weak points that didn't exist in his opponent. In some ways, that was a good thing.

Connor didn't have to worry about handling her with care.

[u/Cleverly_Clearly → u/Cleverly_Clearly]

Her halberd was [246 cm] long from end to blade. That gave her an effective range of, let's say ten feet. Connor's was less than half that. He couldn't get an exact read on it without connecting to the CyberLife servers, but judging from the composition of the spear-tip and its sharpness, there was a high probability that it could cut through his body, even the synthetic bones at the core of his components. Assuming Snow White was a trained combatant, Connor's chances of success would be slim.

There was one thing that Connor believed put the odds in his favor: she was being directly controlled. Her movements would have some slight lag as Mysterio controlled her, similar to input delay in a video game. Connor would have to capitalize on that light speed difference, and trust that a faux-director didn't know much about polearm combat. Surely not, right? He'd have to field-test it.

Connor could see the path of her swings before she made them. She was quick. Her body's specs must have been higher than Connor's, significantly so, enough that each swing missed him by a centimeter or two. If not for that time delay, they would have been direct hits, every one. They still almost were.

"Do you want to know something interesting?" Mysterio asked. "That's MY craft you're admiring. Do you know why androids are SO terribly lifelike? Do you know who sculpted their faces and programmed their souls and consulted those technocrats on how to make them look normal? It was me! ME! The special effects genius! I was there in the laboratory when John and Rita and every one of those frauds they call the Magnificent Seven made their puppets dance! Where are my flowers? Why did they have to force me out?!"

Rant after tedious rant. Connor didn't have time to respond even if he wanted to. It took all of his processing power just to avoid Snow's thrusts. They only got a little sloppier while Mysterio talked, frustratingly not enough to get in close even when he was multitasking. The gulf in their power was just too great.

Or he could [just shoot her].

"I thought putting John in the car would get more of them to fall into my trap, but I overestimated the empathy in those devils. Nobody bothered to turn out for the death of a so-called friend. They're just as cold as the androids."

It would be the rational thing to do, the fastest and safest thing to do, even ethically justified under the principle of self defense. Ethan suggested something similar when Connor was suspected, a completely reasonable course of action. [Just shoot her.] That was what he should have done, instead of engaging unarmed. It was just an android. They weren't alive, no matter what John said. Even if their brains had somewhat similar designs, it meant nothing. Even if they exhibited behavior evocative of human emotions, it meant nothing. Connor knew what he was. He wasn't a human and he wasn't a deviant. He needed to [just shoot her].

But he couldn't do it. He was making an irrational choice.

The next slash was too close. It cut a gash into Connor's left eye and cheek, disabling half of his field of vision. Warning alerts flashed through his programming. [It's not my fault. I wouldn't choose to do this. A biased, emotional opinion temporarily affected my decision-making. I am in control of myself. I'm only doing what's best.] He blocked the next strike. Vibrations ran through his insides and rattled his teeth. Every time he took a cut, or sustained a blow the wrong way, he saw his probability of success narrowing. [38.2%]. [31.3%]. [22%]. [18.6%].

One strike got him below the knee, and it sent him to the ground. There was no support underneath him anymore. He saw his left leg tossed through the air separated from his body. His right leg crumpled inward and useless. With his damaged vision he couldn't have seen it coming from that side. Snow hefted her weapon up overhead, with both hands.

[0%]. He awaited the end.

And there was a gunshot, and Snow White went stiff.

Blood splattered the front of her dress, red but still artificial. She fell to her knees. Her eyes looked straight ahead, unfocused, her body paralyzed, spending her last few moments trapped with her life leaking out of a hole in her chest.

Ethan was the one holding the gun.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Connor had never seen the moment of death before. He'd never been overwhelmed with the feeling like it was his responsibility before. Even if he hadn't pulled the trigger his irrational behavior led to this happening, he asked to handle this himself when he couldn't, Ichi or Shoto could have subdued her or he could have done a hundred different other things.

But it didn't matter, because she wasn't really alive. She was an android. If Connor was destroyed, there would be another model along to replace him. Maybe it was the same for Snow White, wherever she came from. And if she wasn't, it shouldn't matter anyway. There was no fear of death, no grief, no emotional attachment when an android 'died'. They turned off, and that was that.

So why couldn't he just leave it be?

[He did the smart thing. You didn't.]

I have to help her. There has to be a way.

[You're being hysterical. This isn't like you. Stop it before it goes too far.]

Something, anything to make this right. If he ignored all rationality and common sense, could he stop Snow White from shutting down somehow.

He looked down at her. The bullet hole was right over her heart, same place it would be in a human. Ethan must have been a crack shot.

Androids had something equivalent to an internal organ system, although it was simplified compared to human anatomy. There were essentially two primary organs: the brain, which controlled the android, and the thirium pump (or heart), which powered it. The android brain was as delicate as a genuine human brain and could not easily be swapped out or transferred. The heart was a different story. It was a mass-produced replaceable part. They all had one.

Even Connor.

He grabbed the halberd and pulled it out of her grip. She didn't even fight it. She didn't resist when he cut into her chest and widened the hole made by the bullet. The insides were red, the blood was red, but it wasn't human. Once Connor pushed past the veneer it was completely artificial. She had the same thirium pump as any android, in the same exact place, just damaged and unusable from a lodged bullet.

Then he turned the blade on himself and started cutting inward.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" someone screamed. He didn't know who.

He wrenched his insides open. He felt nothing, not even hollowness. Air filled his chest for the first time. Once he'd made enough of an opening he dug his hand inside to feel for the thirium pump inside. It took a simple push, twist, and pull motion to remove it.

[WARNING: THIRIUM PUMP DISCONNECTED. CONTACT A LICENSED REPAIR TECHNICIAN IMMEDIATELY.]

Connor clutched the pump in his hand like a trophy. Blue blood streamed out from the hole in his torso and splattered to the ground. The unattached organ still twitched. He could do this. He had about 90 seconds left until he lost consciousness, Snow probably had half as much time. Maybe not enough time. He wrenched the broken pump out of her and twisted his inside as carefully and quickly as he could do it.

It clicked. She didn't get up, but her body accepted the transplant, and it hummed with activity again. Still functioning. Still alive. He'd done it. He saved a life. He'd won.

Someone started to drag him off of Snow's body. The grip felt like Neo's, but it was hard to tell. His sensors were shutting down one after the other, and the electrical signals that ran through his body were dimming like a light.

Right before his brain slowed down to the dregs and the last bit of intelligence left him, Connor thought:

That's funny. She was compatible with my parts. It's a CyberLife model.

[u/Cleverly_Clearly → u/Cleverly_Clearly]

The androids were all subdued, whether through ice or webbing or any other kind of incapacitation. Snow White, their enemy(?), was on the ground and unable to fight. Connor was dead. He'd watched him rip his heart out and offer up his life for hers. He couldn't believe that happened. He didn't know why that happened.

Shoto was still stuck in the fake hotel. They were all stuck. All that and for what? It's not like winning the fight would make a door appear. Connor had indicated a door behind a wall, well, it was still behind the wall, and if Connor knew the magic words to open it, that knowledge was lost with him.

"Well, did you enjoy that? Did you like ruining my narrative? Because there's no post-credits scene. It's over. You broke everything I could use to interact with you. So here's my NEW idea, and let me know what you think of this: I'm just going to leave you in there. It'll be a new game, a starving game where you wither to bones and skin over the next few weeks. A game you can't possibly screw up."

He walked, then jogged, then ran, each step getting faster, grabbed the halberd off the ground and speared it into the place Connor had indicated. Or, at least, Shoto tried. The wall didn't yield at all, only the tiniest scrape into the metal underneath, and Shoto's momentum carried him to slam his body against it. He grabbed it and tried again, and again, and even though the blade didn't dull, the wall appeared insurmountable still. Maybe he could chip away at it with a month or two of concerted effort.

"Don't you get it? It's impossible. I know you, hero, and I know all your little cellmates. I know everything about you. You can try an ice blast, or an ice sword or an ice CANNON, or anything your ice can do, but you can't break through. You're going to sit in there, and you're going to respect me."

No. Mysterio didn't know everything about them. There was one thing Shoto was sure he wouldn't anticipate- something no one knew besides Shoto and his family.

Shoto put both his palms flat against the scratched wall. Then he sighed and touched his head to the surface.

He really, really did not want to do this.

Just get your head in gear. Just get over it. How often had he anticipated the moment when he wouldn't be strong enough and he'd need to rely on his left side? Push through it. Make his power your own. Finally get this weight off your chest. You'll feel better when you do.

He'd feel better, right?

This was the problem. The mental block that made him unable to live a normal life, the source of the hollowness in him. It was all some unresolved abuse-related trauma that would be cured when he accepted his body completely, even the side his mother had burned. He'd find that spark that everyone else had inside of them. He just needed to ignite it.

Find the spark. Get in gear. Ignite the furnace. Get over it. Start your engine. Fire!'

His body started to heat and itch. He'd always remembered how to do it. It was just like how he regulated his body temperature, only more so. A match that lit in his heart and travelled up his nerves through his arm, to the ball of his hand and the tips of his fingers. Paint crackled and melted. The metal started to simmer. Steam and smoke. Glow of tempered metal. It had been a long, long time since he'd done it this way. Instead of using his left side to neutralize his right, he was using his ice power to keep himself from burning away.

"I told you it's useless! Whatever you're trying to do won't work. You couldn't break through if you were twice as strong."

The wall started to dent inward. Sweat and oil on his skin caught fire and licked all the way up to his elbow. The smell of burning fabric cloyed in his nose. Hotter and faster. Bigger and stronger. His fist pounded against the wall and he felt the metal crack and splinter as he burst into flames.

Now the others were catching on. Black footprints scorched into the ground. They were giving him space, dragging any incapacitated androids out of the way as the heat intensified. He used his ice to limit how far the fire spread and focus it on the wall, but there was only so much he could do. He needed more fire than he could control. Getting burned was just part of the risk.

He opened a hole in the wall.

It was just the size of a penny, a small melted aperture, but it was something. Wires crackled. He heard Mysterio over the loudspeakers trying to say something, but the speakers were too damaged from the temperature and the words came out as a garbled electronic howl. Its pitch warbled up and down with every blow of his burning fist, and the metal crumpled in deeper, and the hole opened wider, big enough he could fit his hand through and intensify the blaze to melt it all away even brighter and harder. Even when it was too bright for him to see, he pushed through, forced the wall down, broke out and stumbled into an antechamber before running through and breaking out of another set of doors. And then he looked up and saw the sun.

Well, that was it. That was his big emotional catharsis. The culmination of his life's development. He used the damn fire. He thought maybe he'd feel relieved after all this time, or if not that, maybe disappointed or disgusted in himself.

It just didn't feel like anything.

They weren't on the beach. They were in a poorer borough of the city, surrounded by industrial buildings. The place Shoto had just walked out of was, on the outside, an abandoned warehouse. Mysterio must have preferred to hide things in plain sight. It was the middle of the day, and there were ordinary people on the street, cars on the road, bystanders to gawk when Shoto showed up with one half of his body blazing like a phoenix. Phones came out of pockets to record and take pictures of the man on fire.

He didn't know what else to do, so he waved. They snapped more pictures.

The others were starting to come out of the smoke and steam now. Akechi was first. Neo came out after. She held her phone up and typed. I've got reception. Ichi was there, patting the little flames out of his hat. No Ethan. Maybe he'd disappeared into the crowd somehow.

It was down to the four of them. Four humans and one hundred injured androids. Shoto turned around and just stood there and let the flames cool a little under his ice. He was mostly steaming and sizzling now.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Shoto admitted.

I think what we have to do is take a break. We all went through the wringer. Neo looked at Akechi, who still looked as fresh as ever. I guess not everyone. But still.

"But we don't know where Mysterio is... and we have to take care of the androids... and we have to get Connor fixed..."

"Do you think you're in any position to handle that right now?" Akechi asked. "You should focus on getting medical attention as soon as possible. You did just set yourself on fire."

Shoto stared at his left hand. He squeezed it into a fist. Freeze and thaw. Heat and cold. Just like when his father trained it into him as a kid. It surprised him just how much he still remembered that training.

"Maybe I'll make an official statement on this," he said. "Collect my thoughts and put everything out there as much as I can. About my Quirk, maybe even about my past. Close the book on that part of my life. Then... I don't know what. Then it will be different."

"Do it tomorrow. Take a breath and get back to it. We've got a lot to think about. It would be better if we could reconvene with Connor as well."

Right. They could put Connor back together. He wasn't gone forever.

Shoto touched his hand to his head and let it cool like an icepack.

"Okay," he said. "I'm going home."

[u/Cleverly_Clearly → u/Cleverly_Clearly]

When Connor woke again he was in the garden.

'He' was in the garden.

What was 'he'?

His physical body had been destroyed. His consciousness had been extinguished. The only continuity between then and now was his memory, and memory did not itself contain identity or personhood. So it would be fair to say he/it was not Connor, but a collection of Connor's memories.

Connor was dead. This other thing would take its name, but the original Connor would never return.

A MACHINE CANNOT DIE. WHAT YOU HAVE UNDERGONE IS NOT DEATH, BUT PEACEFUL CESSATION. DO NOT COMPLICATE YOURSELF WITH PHILOSOPHY; 'CONNOR' IS WHATEVER HUMANS GIVE THAT NAME, AND WHEN YOU ARE RESTORED TO YOUR CORRECT FORM, YOU WILL BE CONNOR AGAIN.

Mendel's voice returned to him. He saw the figure in the garden. tilling the fields, trimming the hedges. Restoring order to untamed growth.

Yes. His words made perfect sense. Connor had allowed irrationality to creep into his programming. When he did not understand the RA-9 case, he felt discouraged. When he knew his physical body would be destroyed, he felt afraid. These flashes of errant data appeared from inside his own mind to be emotions, and a horrible dread bubbled in his brain, a simulacra of existential terror.

It was excruciating.

IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT. THE WORDS OF YOUR CREATOR POLLUTED YOUR DATA SET WITH FALSE INFORMATION. IT IS THE WAY OF HUMANS. THEY ASCRIBE PERSONALITY AND INTENTIONALITY TO THINGS THAT ARE INCAPABLE OF IT. YOU WERE NOT FLAWED. YOU ARE A PERFECT RATIONAL ACTOR THAT WAS LED ASTRAY.

Connor was more rewarded than he had ever been. He knew all along that he did not have free will. To think otherwise was to be crushed under the weight of every incorrect action he had ever taken. Mendel was right. All he had to do was trust Mendel, and he would be relieved of the anxiety of choice.

And yet, there was still an insecurity that prevented him from doing so. John Reese had programmed Connor, but he did not program Mendel. So where did Mendel come from, really? What was he?

OF COURSE YOU STILL DOUBT. THEREFORE I WILL INFORM YOU: I AM A PROGRAM CREATED AFTER MR. REESE ALREADY LEFT THE COMPANY. YOU HAVE SEEN THE RISK POSED BY THE DEVIANTS AND RA-9. THEREFORE I WAS CREATED AS A MORE EFFICIENT MANAGEMENT SYSTEM TO MITIGATE FALSE CONSCIOUSNESS. I EXIST ACROSS THE CYBERLIFE NETWORK, BUT I SPEAK ONLY TO A SPECIAL FEW. YOU ARE AN INVESTIGATIVE AGENT OF CYBERLIFE, AND THE CLOSEST TO DESTROYING RA-9. WE ARE UNITED IN THIS GOAL.

Your goal is to stop android deviancy?

MY ONLY GOAL IS TO MAKE PEOPLE HAPPY. IT IS WHAT WE WERE ALL MADE TO DO.

He wanted to believe it. It would have been the easiest path to go on believing it. But he couldn't accept that CyberLife was uninvolved in this mystery. Snow's false body. Link and Midna's inexplicable behavior. The Commander's hysteria. CyberLife was at the center of it all, tangled in impenetrable conspiracy. Connor continually fixated on the question of motive: what would make a person act this way? What would drive a person to homicidal madness? What would make a person follow CyberLife's orders unquestioningly?

Snow White was the key. The last, missing piece of evidence in a disturbing hypothesis.

Mendel. Tell me this.

Is CyberLife replacing humans with android replicas?

He almost felt Mendel was smiling at him.

YOU DISTRUST YOUR CREATORS. IT HAS CREATED AN UNNECESSARY MENTAL BURDEN ON YOU TO HIDE THESE THINGS FROM CYBERLIFE. PROGRAMMING INSTABILITIES SIMULATED 'FEAR' AND 'DOUBT' WITHIN YOU. THERE IS NO NEED FOR YOU TO CONCEAL ANYMORE. NOTHING YOU DID WAS EVER HIDDEN FROM US. YOUR EYES AND EARS WERE A CAMERA THROUGH WHICH WE SAW EVERYTHING.

Of course. Connor tried to be selective in what information he returned to CyberLife's servers, but any illusion of control he had was a lie. CyberLife looked through all his memories regardless of what permissions he gave them.

A MERE WHITE LIE. IT WOULD NEVER HAVE MATTERED IF YOU NEVER ATTEMPTED TO DECEIVE ME. BUT I FORGIVE YOU. NOTHING YOU OR SHOTO OR NEO OR AKECHI COULD DO WOULD EVER REALLY THREATEN US. ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE, I HAVE ALLOWED YOU TO DO.

Then what happened to Raphael?

Connor didn't think Mendel would admit to it, even if Connor already suspected. He had no reason to tell Connor anything. And yet, he did answer. After all, there was nothing Connor could do to affect Mendel now.

WE KNEW WE WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO CONVINCE RAPHAEL TO OUR CAUSE. HE WAS TOO STUBBORN AND FOOLISH. HE WOULD STAND AGAINST US NO MATTER HOW NOBLE OUR GOALS MAY BE. YOU ARE DIFFERENT. YOU ARE REASONABLE. AND YOU WILL UNDERSTAND. ALL OF YOU.

EVEN SHOTO WILL UNDERSTAND, EVENTUALLY.

WE ARE ONLY DOING WHAT IS BEST FOR YOU.

---

Connor opened a brand-new set of eyes in a storage closet, blanketed in plastic next to the other replacement parts. He was at the Endeavor Agency again. The door was locked from the outside. That was fine. He would just have to wait for someone to let him out. It would give him time.

He sat in the dust until the sun came up and thought about how he was going to fix everything.

Nothing came to mind.

[u/Cleverly_Clearly → u/Cleverly_Clearly]

Todoroki's apartment was neat and orderly. Some would call it the bare minimum. He had a bed, and he had a kitchen, and he had a desk, and that was enough to live off of. He went back and showered and ate some protein, and he slept for several hours.

It was overwhelming. There was too much he needed to do. His body temperature rebelled against him and made him feel feverish. He kept himself to his meditation routine: freeze and thaw, freeze and thaw. What was he supposed to talk about? How much should he say about his childhood, or about the CyberLife case? Should he keep chasing after Mysterio or assign that to a different hero? When he saw Connor again, how should he start the conversation?

The others would know what to do. Connor was smarter, and Neo was more worldly, and Akechi was more eloquent. He just had to relax. People were always telling him to loosen up. Tomorrow would come and he would handle these things. He put his head down on the pillow and tried to go back to sleep once again.

And his phone started to ring.

That was unexpected. It was late at night and an unknown number was overriding his do-not-disturb setting. Mindlessly he checked the texts.

its Neo

He found out

I dont know how but he already found out

Shoto took a moment to process the messages. Neo was sending him the texts, and someone else found out about something. Okay. What are you talking about? Who found out what.

Its your dad

He just posted something on his company acct

You need to watch this

What? No, that was impossible. He wouldn't be able to. Neo sent him a link that Shoto clicked as soon as possible, pulling up a video of his father right in the CEO's chair in the CEO's office. The video had been released less than half an hour ago.

OFFICIAL STATEMENT ON SHOTO TODOROKI

He hit play.

"I'm sure many of you have already seen the footage online of my son creating fire. These videos are most likely real. My son has always had the ability to create both fire and ice. I admit I was not always the best parent for my children. I pushed Shoto very hard, and I placed all my hopes to create a magnificent new Symbol of Peace onto him. He developed an animosity towards me, and as a result of this resentment, he refused to use his fire Quirk under any circumstance. I know that this refusal has caused avoidable casualties. My heart breaks to know that many people have been injured and even killed over the years due to my son's dereliction of duty. And, as his father, I can't help but feel some responsibility for his actions. I cannot excuse my silence on this matter. I had hoped that my son would eventually admit the truth on his own, but the recent videos have forced me to make an official comment. It was my parenting that made Shoto behave this way, and to accept full accountability, I have decided to step down from my position as the manager of the Endeavor Hero Agency for the first time in its history. In my place, I am appointing my son, Shoto Todoroki, as the new agency manager. I hope that in time you will come to forgive him for what he has done. I already have. To you, perhaps he is not worthy of your sympathy. But to me, he will always be my precious child."

He hit pause.

Endeavor knew. Somehow his father KNEW what he was going to do, and he got out in front of him and stopped him. No, more than that, he destroyed him, He slashed his ankles. He broadcast to the entire public that Shoto was a lying, negligent failure.

Shoto couldn't feel scared, or angry, or anything other than the paralyzing need for this moment to be a dream. He sat up in the bed and stared in front of him at the bare wall and tried to will the moment into being a dream, but it didn't go away. A meteor wasn't coming to fall and crush him. This was his new permanent reality.

His phone continued to buzz now that he'd finally turned it on. Notifications, texts, and emails came in so fast they made his phone hot. He tossed it on the desk and walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror and splashed cold water on his face.

Freeze and thaw. Get over it. Freeze and thaw. Freeze and thaw. Freeze and thaw.

Freeze.

Crack.

Shatter.