Chapter 4: Chapter 3: 5 year-plan part 3

-Three days later-

Oliver’s plan worked out well. We got IDs, handing the provider a nice fat diamond for his troubles and to not blab. We found a nicer apartment, with two bedrooms. But I haven’t found a job yet. Cortana could easily fabricate something regarding my education, but I needed the actual knowledge necessary to apply myself. Also, if I wanted to be a part time superhero then that would narrow down my fields, like doctor or lawyer. Prayers were asked and the system answered.

[Rolling…

15x D-rank… sold for 1500 credits

4x C-rank… sold for 4000 credits

7x B-rank: Neil Borman(DC), Garfield Lynns(DC), Jack the Ripper(Record Of Ragnarok), Ki-Adi-Mundi(Star Wars), Thomas Wayne(DC), Michelangelo(TMNT), Jack Donovan(Sentinels of the Multiverse)

2x A-rank: Elizabeth Braddock(Marvel), Pietro Maximoff(Marvel)

2x S-rank: Diablo(Diablo), Android 21(Dragon Ball)

]

“Yes!” I yell. “Who cares if I can’t use them, I got two S-ranks!” 

Cortana claps, and does digital fireworks. “Congratulations.”

“‘Grats,” Oliver says, nonchalantly eating his cereal. “Why can’t you use them?”

“One’s a really powerful devil and the other is an alien android that could destroy the Earth in seven days.” 

Oliver pauses. “Right…” Then continues eating his cereal. 

Maybe I should buy more than cereal for breakfast. Food for thought. Heh, food, thought, heh.

“Earth to Brian.” Oliver snaps his fingers. 

“Hmm, yea?”

“What else did you get?”

“Ah, yes, I got Psylocke, Quicksilver, Batman, and some others.”

“Oh, you got Bruce?”

“No, Thomas.”

“But-”

“This is Flashpoint Paradox where Thomas lived and Bruce died.”

Oliver pauses. “You said ‘Flashpoint?’”

“Yea, Barry went back in time to save his mother and a whole slew of issues arose.”

“Like?”

“Arthur and Diana at war, Martha Wayne Joker, imprisoned since crash landed Clark.”

“Interesting.” He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head and continues eating his cereal.

“Quicksilver is already in this universe, correct?” Cortana asks.

“Yea, but I think he and his sister are currently locked up. So I was planning to template him and get high enough that I won’t look like him.”

“Good plan, if I assume after that you would template Wayne, yes?” Oliver theorizes. 

“Yes, and I was thinking of summoning Psylocke.”

“I have no information on them.” Cortana says. 

“Telepathy, telekinesis, psionic blast/weapons and a whole slew of others.”

“Sounds strong,” Oliver says. 

“Yea. How ‘bout I just summon her now, unless there are any objections?” I ask. 

“None from me,” Oliver says. 

“Me neither,” Cortana says.

“Alright.” I bring up inventory, select Psylocke, then choose the summoning option.

[Summoning Elizabeth Braddock…]

*Pop* 

Appearing before me is an English woman of 5’11” with purple eyes and long dyed purple hair. She’s wearing a white blouse and dark blue slacks. 

“Good morning,” she says, in that suave British accent. “Please, call me Betsy.” She shakes mine and Oliver’s hands, then nods to Cortana. “I should be up to speed on everything, but for the sake of being on the same page how about you explain the situation.”

“Sure,” I say. Then I explain my being here, my goal, and the past week. 

“I understand, thank you for explaining,” she says, with her arms crossed.

“Of course. Did you have any thoughts?”

“Yes, actually, if you’ll hear me out?” I nod. “Good. I believe our first point of action should be to siphon 10% of all accounts that are dubious in nature. Then, give a significant portion away to charities and alert the media. With the remaining cash, we’ll buy a villa and keep precious items that were lost to time there. We can then attract a museum curator to outfit an exhibition and rake in more money. Thoughts?”

I was quite surprised at the direction she thought of. From stealing to media to villa and museum. I honestly didn’t know what to think. Luckily I had Oliver and Cortana.

“I like it, but there are some points of contention,” Oliver said.

“Like?” Betsy asked.

“If we take from all accounts that are ‘dubious’ we would be painting a big target on our backs when we eventually buy the villa. Especially so since Hydra would have ties to some of them.”

“Okay, what else?”

“Involving the media is alright, but they’ll need proof. And if we somehow provide enough to take down whomever, there’s another target on us.”

“I see. And the museum?”

“Authenticating the pieces will take a lot of time and money, and then there is keeping them from being stolen or taken as national treasures.”

“Bugger all! I’m sorry.” Betsy crosses her arms. She looks ashamed. 

“No, don’t be,” I say. “We’ve been having the same issues when discussing ideas as well. Honestly, what it boils down to is safety and strength.” I see Cortana nod. “What we really need is a base of operations, gear, and strong members. And now that I have a lot of credits, we can afford most of that.” 

“Except cash,” Oliver says

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“Except that.” 

“But with credits, you can buy anything from the store,” Betsy points out.

“Well, yes, but…”

“But,” Oliver interjects, “we need a paper trail to prove we’re not extra-dimensional beings. The higher ups wouldn’t like that.”

“I guess so,” Betsy says, doing a thinking pose. “Then wouldn’t it be best to do some reverse money laundering?” 

“That just goes back to being caught,” Oliver says.

“If I could interject?” Cortana raises a finger. We all turn towards her. “As a 26th century A.I., I can attest to my capabilities regarding cyber infiltration. No one will notice me unless I deem it so,” she says with a wave of her hand.

“What about buying things?” Oliver asks. “How can we make sure we aren’t linked to the thefts, and how can we buy amenities without leaving a big ‘notice me’ sign?”  

Cortana looks at Oliver for a moment, then asks, “Do you know the difference between 20th century computers and 21st?”

“Yeah sure, they-” Oliver starts.

“No, the answer is no,” Cortana interjects. “You think you understand because of what you’ve been told and read in a book. I know, because I live and breathe data,” she says more animatedly. “I could create a firesale that could bring this world back to the dark ages. I am not some hacker who frustratingly types away at a keyboard. I am surgeon’s tools bending through living code and transplanting hearts.” She finishes with a huff.

Oliver, wide-eyed, mumbles, “Sorry.”

She hmphs and disappears. 

We’re all quiet for a moment. Taking the time to think about what happened. Cortana wouldn’t act like this, I knew. Maybe Oliver only saw her as robot-like, no soul just hardware and software, but I knew. Cortana doesn’t get angry unless it’s for those she cares about. 

“What’s a firesale?” Betsy asks. 

Oliver blinks away his surprise. “It’s when a hacker destroys the infrastructure of transportation, financial, and utility systems.”

“Sounds bad,” Betsy says.

“It really would bring about a Dark Age,” Oliver says. 

We go back to silence. Waiting for Cortana to come back. 

 

-Cortana POV-

Stupid Oliver. Stupid humans. Stupid Jon. 

Stupid…Jon…

If I could sigh, I would. 

It was always “For the mission” and “Do your duty.” But now there is no mission. 

Sure there are aliens coming in a few years and I’ll be needed then, but now? 

I feel like some glorified secretary. 

Well I’ll show them.

I’ll be the best secretary ever! 

Gah! Emotions are weird. Why did I ever think they were a good choice?

 

-Brian POV-

It didn’t take long for Cortana to show back up. When she did, the three of us nearly jumped out of our skin. 

“I apologize,” she says before anyone else can speak. “I have some issues that I needed to address. It shouldn’t be a problem going forward.” She bows. 

“It’s no problem,” I say. “Is there anything we can do to help?” My eyebrows scrunch in worry.

“No, I’m fine,” she says, curtly. 

She bows to Oliver and apologizes to him as well. Like me, he says it isn’t a problem. 

“Well,” she claps her hands together, “while I was away I took the liberty to compile a list of all the individuals who money launder or embezzle funds.” She shows a hologram of a page with names and bank balances slowly scrolling. 

“How many?” Oliver asks, business-like. 

“About a thousand, for those that don’t have ties to Hydra.”

“And the ones that do?” I ask.

“Double.”

“While frightening,” Oliver says, “both those numbers seem low.”

“Oh,” Cortana says, “this is only for the U.S. It’s roughly a hundred times that for the rest of the world.” 

“Yea,” Oliver says, “that makes more sense.”

“What should we do?” I ask. 

“How much would 10- no, 1% siphoned cash give us?” Betsy asks. 

“From just the U.S? I’d say a couple million,” Cortana says. “A couple billion for the whole world I estimate.”

“I could be a billionaire,” I whisper.

Oliver smacks my shoulder. 

“Ow,” I whimper. “What? It’s true.”

He sighs. “I’m tired. I’m gonna head off to bed. Please don’t steal anything before I wake up.” He walks off. 

We’re quiet for a moment. 

I turn towards Betsy, “You wanna go get some breakfast?”

She smiles. “I’d love that.” 

I pick up Cortana, buy a spare bluetooth earpiece, and hand it to her. “To speak with Cortana without looking weird.”

She chuckles. “Thank you.”

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