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The last thing she thinks before she's torn apart by the whirling vortex is that they are going to have to update so many workplace safety standards.
We find out if this SI is OP enough for Worm
In simulated space, she turns to Riley.
"You're sure you want to fake your death?" she confirms. "Even though you have a kill order, I do think the PRT would be willing to reconsider, given what you've told me."
"I'm sure," she responds, fiddling with one of the sugar cookies. "That's what the others chose, right? And I like it here, anyway."
"Yes, please," Riley responds, holding out her cup so that Zebrawood can pour into it.
After a moment of watching the empty PRT waiting room projected on one wall, she continues.
"Are you sure I can't talk to Mr. Jack?"
Zebrawood coughs delicately.
"Mr. Jack is ... busy," she explains. "But you can talk to him when he's done, if both of you want to."
Riley pouts.
"What could possibly be more important than watching you fool the PRT on our behalf?" she asks. 'What could be more important than spending time with me?' she doesn't ask.
"Sex stuff," Zebrawood clarifies. "He's chasing one of my other selves through a rainy forest with a knife."
He is having a good day. Unlike so many of his colleagues, he actually enjoys his work. Even on the worst days, he makes a difference. But today, if their mysterious guest is to be believed, is not one of the bad days.
"Good morning. I'm Director Armstrong, but you can call me Kamil," he says, sitting down on the opposite side of the table.
She doesn't reach across the table for a handshake — PRT policy forbids handshakes with unknowns, as a protection against strikers. Instead, she just flashes him a smile.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Director," she responds. "I'm Zebrawood, but I'm probably down in your files as Weeping Cherry or Yew."
His smile becomes slightly more fixed, trying to remember what he read in the report on her.
Still, he should give her the benefit of the doubt.
"I see. Well, you say that you're here to claim the bounty on the Slaughterhouse Nine — all of them?" he clarifies.
"All of them except the Siberian," she agrees. "She appears to be a projection. We think we've got the parahuman who controls her under surveillance, but as she hasn't re-manifested, we can't be sure."
She makes a thumbdrive appear between her fingers.
"Footage of the whole operation. I also have their bodies in storage — except for Crawler, who I chose to completely disintegrate," she explains.
The camera angle is such that the floating brain regions are not visible. With how quickly she plows through people, it's plausible that the bodies are being teleported away.
He nods.
"I'm sure this will be sufficient, but it will take us a little while to verify," he explains. For one thing, PRT policy requires confirmation from the central office to release funds for this, to prevent a Master from just walking away with the cash.
"Do you know how you'd like the bounty payout?" he asks. "We can do cash, but we can also do a bank account in your name, if that's more convenient."
She slides a detailed list across the counter.
"I would like one dollar in a bank account in my name, please," she says. "And the rest donated to various charities and individuals, in the amounts listed here."
He quickly scans the list.
"This is mostly medical charities and short-term disaster relief," he summarizes. "You don't have to answer this, but ... why? Most people would not be so generous."
"As I told your compatriots at the Brockton branch — I am actually, genuinely here to help. I come from a world that is much, much richer and safer than Earth Bet, and I want to bring that here."
She leans forward.
"And I get that my capabilities are frightening. I get that most of the surprises that have happened since the appearance of Parahumans have been bad. But I'm not going to let that stop me. I will do my best to help everyone — by their standards."
She sits back.
"Unfortunately, just giving direct aid to people hasn't been working, because if there's not a paper trail, people get suspicious. Hence: directing some traceable money, from a known source, to the places where it will help the most."
"It's definitely an aim that I can appreciate," the Director agrees.
He taps his pen on the desk.
"Please don't take this as a criticism — I would have done the same thing in your shoes — but how can you claim to help everyone, and still have killed the Slaughterhouse Nine?"
Zebrawood snorts.
"Watch the section of the video where I talk to Crawler," she replies, tapping the thumbdrive. "And see if that answers your question."
She looks at her wrist, where a watch isn't.
"Well, that's about all I wanted to cover with you."
A stack of papers thumps onto the table.
"There are the other forms you were going to ask me to fill out. Do you have somewhere I can leave the bodies for confirmation?"
With actual samples of the portals to probe, their research can go a lot faster.
'A lot faster' is not 'fast'. Fundamental physics research is still difficult, actually, even when you have dozens of trained world-class researchers with the best possible laboratories working on the problem. Plus, either their experiments or becoming disconnected from a human manage to destabilize two of the portals, which doesn't help.
Eventually, though, they can recreate the simplest part of what the modified brain regions do: keeping an existing portal stable against dimensional interference.
"I think it's time to reconsider Zebrawood's proposal," she proposes to her other selves in their daily strategy meeting. "We might not be able to keep a portal stable against manipulations from its creator, but on the other hand, we might, which would give us insight into what exactly is going on here."
Zebrawood sits up.
"Ooh! I've thought about this in some more detail — I think we should place a crystal through the portal, stabilize the other side, and then immediately make it look as though the portal destabilized violently, since we know what that looks like," she proposes.
"I ... still think that any kind of interference through the portals is going to provoke some kind of response. We would be better off waiting until our ranges increase enough to find an empty space on the other side that's not filled with crystal," Yellow Birch advances.