With each passing moment, the limbs of the corpse appeared more firmly locked in place, movement less likely, as if it were rotting away right in front of his eyes.
"When I was constructed, my designers gave me 3 priorities. Three primary objectives. These were listed as follows: Objective 1, preserve communism in the Soviet Union. Objective 2, spread communism throughout the world. Objective 3, ensure the survival of the human species. While none of these objectives was listed as any higher importance than the other, forming the three core rules that govern my behavior going forward, by necessity, objective 3 takes priority, as failing it makes objectives one and two impossible."
The complete lack of body language of the machine was slightly unnerving. Despite standing in front of a person, and talking to them, the immobility made it feel more like he was talking to a speaker phone.
Eyeball nodded thoughtfully. "Based on your observations of events in Mexico, a situation where the nations of the world, for the most part, didn't really prepare for your arrival. And knowing that they will be better prepared for you in the future; And that whatever weapon they used to end the conflict this time may be more controllable and better aimed next time. Would you say direct military action on your part has any significant chance of accomplishing your objectives?"
"Negative. Based on current information, a previously unknown titan-level meta-human was the cause of this defeat. as known titan level mutants do not appear to suffer the depredations of age, it seems highly likely that any force primarily composed of machines or machine controlled units is unlikely to achieve my objectives."
"I'm not particularly fond of Oligarchs, kings, billionaires, and the like running things. And, oddly enough, you're likely the most trustworthy being when it comes to facing them I've ever encountered. You won't be bribed, the only threat that would stop you would be a threat to the human race as a whole... have you considered enlisting the aid of one of these environmental groups that fights mega-corporations, trying to stop them from enslaving everyone and destroying the planet? And perhaps the unions as well, making sure that businesses that fight them and suppress them suffer?"
He gestures out towards the main continent, invisible over the horizon. "Clearly a swift, abrupt approach of an entire country at once won't work. But you could step in in thousands of places, in millions of ways. Assassinate a business tycoon and make sure its known that his slavery of his men was the reason. An oil baron and make it known that his corporation doesn't own the land's resources, its people do. Shut down water bottling plants sucking up rivers and groundwater with a few key strikes, letting the water go back to the locals. If its only ever a few machines at a time, they wouldn't use an EMP or any large-scale weapon. With enough time, and enough strikes... you can slowly shape the world. Win people over and constantly make the Oligarchs suffer. Can you practice patience?"
"...This approach is both significantly more likely to work, and less likely to render the human species extinct. I will consider it."
Eyeball nodded. "Good. And speaking of human extinction.... Your records tell you about the Jotun, right? That raid by a few alien ships a while back, that Lightning and Valkyrie stopped?"
***
When Eyeball stepped into the cantina carrying a sack of still-living, wriggling crabs under his arm, the lights were on, but it had grown dark outside. He glanced out the door, frowning. He'd checked the weather before deciding to take this vacation, and it was supposed to be sunny and bright for the next few days. It was hours til sunset, so this much darkness meant stormclouds; abrupt, heavy stormclouds.
Fortunately, this village was tucked into a neat little canyon in the island; a location chosen to protect the fishermen and their boats from storms. "Check weather forecast."
After a moment, a small sidebar appeared on his display; showing a massive tropical storm forming, centered on southern Mexico. Hot air was being sucked into a massive low-pressure area inland, dropping dramatically in temperature; and massive storms were rocking the already-evacuated parts of mexico... and those whose population had been eradicated by Tai.
The storms were predicted to be unusually violent and destructive; and 'Tropical Storm Odin' was projected to continue to grow for a few days, before it would begin to wither away, breaking up into hundreds of smaller, weaker storm systems. He shrugged, and stepped on into the kitchen; where Emerald was looking through food and seasonings, tail slowly shifting back and forth in anxiety.
He chuckled, admiring her for a moment.. before dropping the sack of crabs on the counter beside the stove. "I think this should be enough for a few days; though we'd get sick of crab after a while. You want to see about breakfast tomorrow, and I'll start on dinner?"
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Emerald glanced back at him... then the sack of crabs, grinning. "Ohhh, I don't know about that. I could eat crab every day for a year and still be fine with it, I bet. Especially if its cooked right. Can you cook it right?"
Eyeball laughed, setting his helmet on the counter, and, after examining the kitchen for a moment, started filling a large stewpot with water from a storage tank in the ceiling. "Of course I can. Its not a favorite, but I like crab well enough that I've learned a few good recipes over the years. Of course, just cooking em in seasoned water works if its fresh crab. Looks like we might just be stuck in this little village for a few days, though. We'll have to find something to occupy our time."
Emerald walked over beside him as he set the water up to boil, and started washing off a few of the crabs to prepare for dinner. Her tail wrapped around his leg as she leaned in close. "Oh, no. Just the two of us on our own private island, trapped in some quaint little cantina as a storm blows outside. Whatever shall we do?"
***
While the couple enjoyed their evening together, a few kilometers away, buried beneath the ocean in a slowly expanding facility surrounding an underwater volcanic vent, the machine worked. Machines dug out tunnels; assembled new fabricators. Planned.
At some point in the future, aliens would arrive. Aliens bent on eradicating humanity.
The basic Jotun soldier wasn't an insurmountable problem. Approximately nine feet tall, and weaker than a human of the same size would be, it relied on some form of augmented implants, or armor, or both, to move and fight effectively on earth. Its armor was, in its thinnest points, over a centimeter thick and capable of repelling rifle-fire.
The Jotun elite were even larger, stronger, and more damage resistant; some could even survive normal anti-tank munitions.
And, just like humans, they had machines. Large, powerful, flying machines.
The standard Jotun tank was a three-man vehicle able to fly at over a hundred miles an hour, survive every non-nuclear weapon in humanity's arsenal other than a naval railgun. At least, that had been the case a decade ago. Now, every military on earth had a few weapons on its tanks and jets made to kill them.
In theory, Ascension could deploy sufficient millions of machines to seriously degrade the Jotun's ability to attack. In reality... what it needed was access to technology. Preferably, that of the Jotun themselves. Ideally, without allowing the militaries of earth to know just who was acquiring it. Hopefully, they could be lulled into believing Ascension had been defeated; or, at least, reduced in numbers so heavily it would not pose a threat.
The only question was, just how would it go about securing all of this without giving away its continued large-scale operations.
***
At the center of the room, his own personal, customized bunker, Nicky stood up, looking around at the gathered criminals... and former criminals. He raised a glass in a toast, as the rest did the same; the atmosphere was cheerful, happy. Most of them who had been pardoned were already planning how to take advantage of it; many clearly intent on getting right back on the bad side of the law as soon as possible.
A few had the idea of infiltrating the DMA, or the FBI, the Family's biggest enemies here in the US; but both organizations vetted their incoming teams with Verification operatives. So the only way anyone would make it in is if they could also fool a Verification agent... which would require either drugs or a powerful telepath.
Or, possibly, a clone or body double... Nicky sipped his wine, thinking about how hard it would be to slip a fake through the system.. before setting his glass down.
"Well now. Ladies and gentlemen. We have all been made much wealthier over the past few weeks. We have secured pardons, we have received substantial bounty payments, and we got to have fun blowing things up. Now, I'm here to present an opportunity to those of my associates who chose to accept the pardons offered by the government."
He tapped a button on his table. A hologram appeared floating over it; an image of Guadalupe island; and similar, flat, images appeared on nearby screens.
"In the ongoing chaos, our friend Eyeball secured something special from the government in exchange for his services; independent ownership of his own personal island. Now... the only reason they gave it to him is because its a mostly barren wasteland, with few spots to dock, and not that much value, and they've got bigger problems to worry about."
He smiled. "We've enlisted the efforts of a few earth-moving metas to change that. We're going to be building our own private island paradise, and within the year we'll have a city, arms manufacturing, drug manufacturing... all sorts of wonderful work there. And a pre-existing agreement with the US government that, so long as we don't start engaging in terrorism or other similar stupidity, they won't try to interfere. It will take months of effort, even with the help of Metas. Tens of millions of dollars. But in the end? We'll have our own country. La Famiglia. One that won't extradite, won't restrict weapons manufacturing, drug manufacturing or research.... and one that, right now... you can get in on the ground floor of."
He tapped a few more buttons. Images appeared of the tiny, sparse human settlements. "The only things living on most of the island right now are goats and plants. We plan to build a split construct... a nice row of penthouses, clubs, the finer things in life... and on the other side, production, industry. If things turn out the way we plan, we can make it a tourist destination... not just a steady source of the best guns and drugs money can buy, but also a steady source of legit income for those of us choosing to stay on the 'legit' side of things."
He turned, looking around the room at the gathered criminals. "I will be the Governor. Eyeball will be my chief enforcer. My daughter will most likely be my second, to take charge should something happen to me... but there are plenty of positions available, plots of land, and opportunities, for those who get in now."
"So. Who wants to get in on the investment opportunity of the century? The only people allowed into this are Family and Associates. All of you... made the list, if you want in."