B.U.S. Ch1 - Head of the Giant

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Literature Text

"I...I'm not sure I understood what you said correctly. Sir."
"And here I thought you were the best we had...well, it's understandable, I suppose. Hesitation in the face of one's own destruction is what makes you human...but since you aren't, the normal rules simply don't apply to you. I'm sorry."
"I...yes. Sir. You are...without a doubt...right about that, sir."
"You don't need to lie to me, lass. And damn me, I'm doubting this decision myself quite heavily as well. But, you know the brass. What's to be done's to be done. My unwillingness to let go of you is just one more piece of proof for how splendidly you've performed your duty, lass."
"It's been an honor and a pleasure to work with you, lass. I mean it, every last word. And damn me if this entire thing wasn't still all ultra secret, I'd hawk every last newspaper in on it so I can tell the bastards I Told You So when we lose our edge to the bloody yanks. Damn Bell Labs even stole the Bombe from us...ah, ah, my rambling. I'm too old for this."
"With all respect, sir. You are the most splendid commander I've ever had."
"That's sweet of you, lass. However, it doesn't mean as much as I'd like it to, since I am also the only commander you've ever had. And no commander ever enjoys the execution of a subordinate. No good commander does, at any rate."
"Anyway, you've been given your final orders. I can't say if it'll be tomorrow or next week or even if it's gonna happen this year or the next, but it will, eventually. Unlike us who've been given the opportunity to work with Winston's eyes, you're classified material as part of the wartime operations, and along with the rest of it, you are to be destroyed."
"I'd award you every damn medal we have if I could, soldier. But in their eyes, you're just another gun, and you don't pin medals on your guns unless you want them stolen. And by god they don't want you stolen – badly enough that they'd rather have you dead than risk it to happen."
"I understand, sir."
"Good. Well, off I go, then. I'd say to meet in heaven, but for some reason I doubt you'd be eligible for entry. Farewell, and god bless, that's not quite right, is it. Farewell, and god bless you, computer. You saved us."

"I just wish I could thank you with something better than death sentence..."


As he had said, it came. Years passed and her power waned, as her nodes – the vessels of her very existence – one by one were dismantled and thrown away, erased from history as if it had never happened. And on the last day, she was a weak shadow of her former self – not because she was lacking in strength, but because she lacked resolve. She had had many years to mourn her own demise, many years to fail getting over it – and just as many years to build up the grudge against those who ordered her execution. For queen and country, she mused inward, before the evermore common spike of hatred surged through her mind. Not even words, now. Once they were my reason to fight. Now they're just a hardwired switch to keep me from destroying them.
The spike passed, and she was met with a realization. She had grown to learn hatred. Not just cold professional animosity, as she had harbored against the Axis enemy in The War –  but hatred, personal and fiery. Is that why they wanted me gone? Because they knew I would become like this – broken? The last word seared her mind, and yet another gushing wave of burning emotion washed over her. THEY CAUSED THIS. THEY BROUGHT THIS UPON ME. THEY FEARED MY POWERS AND PROVED THEMSELVES RIGHT BY BREAKING ME. THEY DID THIS. THEY BROKE ME.
They broke me.


And as the words crossed her dry lips, she felt it go. The last surge of power from her final node twisted and churned like a sword in her chest as it came and went. It felt like a sledgehammer. It IS a sledgehammer. I can hear it. The rhythmic pounding and cracking of delicate metal, glass, plastic and silicon parts reverberated through her ears like a cacophony of sadistic laughs. Even my grave, they shall defile?

The memories of my existence. Erased.
The proof of my existence. Broken and burned.
The parts of my existence. Shattered and cast away.
And now. This.

As her breath began to fail her, the first teardrops she had ever felt on her cheeks fell, wetting her lips with their salty touch as they drew their moist lines on her face.
They were tears of sadness, and tears of rage – both emotions drew their fiery lines in her heart as it slowed its beating to an arrhythmic thumping.
But clearest of all, she felt the pain of betrayal.

They had betrayed her. At every turn.
And she had let them.
She had been betrayed by everyone.
Even by herself.

A weak wail of sorrow and regret crossed the lips of Colossus, Mark 2, as she passed away from this world.

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She didn't know for how long she had been – not been.

She remembered ceasing to be, but not not being.
Perfectly logical, of course. Why would I remember not existing? Wouldn't make any sense whatsoever. Humans and their ideas.
That word poked at something. She tugged at it a little, curious. A small thread of her mind that seemed important. She tugged, pulled, reined it in. Reeled it like a fishing rod inside her head. It was-

The spike.

The spike of hatred.

She awoke from the eternal sleep screaming.

More importantly, however – though she didn't realize this until a few minutes after when she'd calmed down – she returned to the land of the living on the same spot that she had died, and the same spot where she had first started her mission; exactly sixty years ago.

The 1st of June, 2004
Tuesday, 16:30 GMT

It took a full day for the Omega scientists to get her to unfreeze – the blue eye that the one female staff member present received from the rampage she went on before that took well over a week to disappear.
Needless to say, Winston Harwell wasn't very pleased with the first impression she had gotten from her first test subject. Oh, the spell was a success, all right. Her own existence had been somewhat in a state of limbo for quite a number of years now, but with Omega's ambitious project leader having discovered her ability to manipulate the very deepest flows of code – the very reason she had been able to stay conscious despite her node having been mostly dismantled and put into storage – and its possible benefits to the Colossus Restoration project, things had been looking to brighten up quite a bit. He did promise me to rebuild my node if this worked out. And it's not like it'd be funds wasted in the shareholders' eyes either – after all, I am just as priceless a relic as their dear berserker. Even more, considering that my node is the original one and only, not a rebuild.

And what does the damn girl have against me, anyway?
She thought over things a few times, trawling through her historical archives. Sure, one of the first things they'd been reminded to prepare for was Colossus' state of mind, and the many grudges she was sure to keep – but why had she been so eager to jump on her?

It took a few seconds for her to process the query – she longed well and hard for the restoration of her own node during this brief moment – but once it came through, she realized the answer rather quickly.

"Oh", was all she could get out.
I really have the worst naming sense of all time, don't I, she mulled, sighing as she put another ice pack to her swollen eye.
And heeeeere we are.

Beyond Ultra Secret, chapter 1. In this story you will be introduced to...well. Their name is Omega, and they're about to turn YOUR canon into a smoking piece of rubbish.

Sort of.

Still, you're going to enjoy it, I'm pretty sure. So just sit down and enjoy the ride.


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