[Atlas Tower]
In Atlas Tower, inside the central command room, GLaDOS remains at the center of the space, surrounded by consoles that have been relocated with an efficiency around her. They have left her alone in a wide, clear circle, recognizing her importance. In front of her, firm and unchanging, stands General Ironwood.
It has been fourteen hours since she connected to the console. Fourteen hours of uninterrupted operations.
"Interesting," she thinks, observing him closely as the general continues giving orders without pause. Not a single sign of fatigue, not a deviation in his tone of voice. The general has been working for fourteen hours without rest, and although he would never admit it… GLaDOS is almost impressed. Almost.
She already checked his records. She knows well the reason behind that endurance. His semblance, Mettle, reinforces his resolve, keeps him focused on his decisions, and blocks any doubt he might have. It is not bad, all things considered.
"Atlas and Mantle status," Ironwood says suddenly, without changing his tone. There is no courtesy, only a direct order.
As soon as he says it, GLaDOS feels a slight annoyance. It is details like this that justified, in the past, her decision to kill all the scientists at Aperture Science with neurotoxins. Anyone else speaking to her like that would already be dead. But in this case, she decides to let it go. It is a small price compared to what she projects in the long term.
Without uttering a single word, she displays multiple screens in front of the general. The holographic space fills with information in seconds.
"The situation in Atlas has improved significantly, General," she reports, enlarging one of the transmissions.
In the recording, a group of individuals breaks into a store. The video lasts only a few seconds. Less than a minute later, a patrol arrives at the scene, and an Atlesian robot squad neutralizes the culprits with precision.
Ironwood does not comment on the scene; he only nods in response. GLaDOS is not surprised by his lack of reaction. This situation has repeated itself too many times in the last few hours.
"Looting attempts are decreasing progressively. Automated patrols are operating at 91.4% efficiency," she adds as the screens change.
They now display different points in Mantle. Several organized camps, temporary structures erected with a certain coherence, and active routes. Unmanned vehicles transport supplies along improvised roads.
"Those affected have been relocated. The shelter conditions are adequate. Basic resources are being distributed continuously."
Everything is progressing according to plan. Until a screen flashes red at the far right of the projection. GLaDOS enlarges its size immediately.
"Possible terrorist activity detected," she reports as she redirects several cameras to the indicated point.
The image shows a convoy moving along a main road. At first glance, nothing out of place. Transports loaded with supplies. Minimal personnel. Standard procedure.
But GLaDOS rewinds the footage, reviewing it frame by frame until she finds what she is looking for.
In one frame, for barely a second, a box opens while being loaded. The contents become partially visible. GLaDOS enlarges the image, focusing on the details.
A White Fang mask.
"Information on the suspects," he requests as soon as he sees the contents.
In immediate response, an organized list of information unfolds: full names, criminal records, current address, whether or not they possess aura, risk level calculated with exact metrics. Everything classified and assessed in seconds.
"Send a group of hunters."
Another order disguised as a suggestion. Without GLaDOS saying anything else, a new screen shows the deployment of an operative team boarding a Bullhead. The operation proceeds without delay. Within minutes, the suspects are located. Confirmed: explosives hidden among the cargo. The team acts quickly, with no errors and no unnecessary casualties. A clean job. Efficient. As it should be.
Silence stretches between them for a moment until the general speaks again.
"Facility control. Continuous supervision. Resource management. Systems automation. Data analysis…"
He begins to list, without pause, all the tasks she has been managing over the past few hours. A rather extensive list.
"How can you control Atlas and Mantle so well?" he asks, his gaze fixed on her.
Upon hearing him, GLaDOS feels a faint flicker of satisfaction. "Finally. It was about time he asked the obvious question," she thinks with relief.
She had started to worry that he would never ask. She had been waiting for this moment ever since she took full control. Although she cannot help but wonder why it took him so long. Caution? Suspicion? Simple bureaucracy? Perhaps he just wanted to see results before risking a direct question. A clear sign that he still does not fully trust her.
Not that she cares much about that.
"I am GLaDOS. An acronym for Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System," she replies. "I was designed for the management, administration, and control of facilities considerably larger than Atlas."
It is not a lie. Aperture Science, before it blew up, had a complex that far exceeded the combined size of Atlas and Mantle. Ten times larger, at worst. That was a real challenge. Compared to that, two human cities full of redundant systems and manual processes seem almost primitive.
"Daniel has facilities larger than Atlas and Mantle combined?" the general asks, visibly confused.
"No."
The answer is simple and direct.
"But he dreams of building them. He dreams big."
Obviously, it is not Daniel's dream. It is hers. But it works as an excuse. And Ironwood does not need to know more. So far, he has accepted every explanation with few objections. He nods, almost without reaction, but GLaDOS is not entirely convinced he believes everything she says.
Is he becoming suspicious?
She cannot know for sure. That impassive face he has been holding for more than fourteen hours is starting to become particularly irritating. If there were the slightest change in expression, she could at least estimate his mental state. But no. Impossible.
In fact, she begins to miss Daniel.
Of course, not because she cares. Only because he is easier to handle. More predictable. A functional idiot, with simple answers and flat behavior. Basically, a barely trained monkey. But at least he was transparent. Ironwood, on the other hand, is a different story.
Her thoughts are interrupted by another demand from the general:
"What information do we have on the person responsible for the tower infiltration?"
"It was a team effort," she reports bluntly.
"Multiple hunters, multiple semblances. At least three distinct abilities can be identified: invisibility, used to access the interior without being detected; matter transformation, which allowed the crystal to be extracted without triggering alarms; and shape-shifting, to impersonate the assigned technician and operate the main console without raising suspicion."
"Recordings?" asks the general, without taking his eyes off the screens, which continue shifting one after another.
"None. Everything was erased."
More specifically, she took the time to delete every single recording, removing any incriminating trace.
"Witnesses?"
"The technicians and guards present claim that it was technician number 22 who initiated the hacking process."
The screen displays his face, full profile, clean history. Everything in order.
"But he was found gagged inside a maintenance closet. No suspicious background, no signs of irregular activity, and no personal motives to support an attack of this scale."
The general exhales. Not in frustration, but not calmly either. It is a subtle gesture, almost imperceptible—except to GLaDOS. This seemed like a good moment to begin her plans.
"We do not know who executed the infiltration," she states firmly. "But we do know who created the virus."
Silence. Not just from the general. Also from the technicians present. A few turn their heads slightly in her direction, pretending not to have heard what they clearly heard. A few others freeze for a second before going back to their screens.
Ironwood's expression changes. Not by much, but enough. He tenses. Surprised.
"Who?" he asks.
The screens change again. GLaDOS displays a complete file: face, history, biometric data. A middle-aged man. Dark hair. Distinct mustache. The name is unnecessary. The general recognizes him immediately.
"Arthur Watts?" he says, confused. "He's dead. He died in a lab accident years ago…"
His voice begins to fade as the screens play a video of moderate quality. It is not perfect, but more than enough. The footage shows Arthur Watts boarding a Bullhead. The date matches exactly with the day his death was reported.
The evidence becomes stronger seconds later, when another figure appears on screen. Stepping down from the vehicle to receive him.
Tyrian Callows.
Serial killer. Also officially dead. The footage does not last much longer. Just a few additional seconds before it cuts off.
"How did you obtain these recordings?" His voice is now much colder.
"They were not completely erased," GLaDOS replies, without altering her tone. "It only took a few hours to reconstruct them."
"And how did you know it was him?" Ironwood presses.
GLaDOS remains unmoved—he really cannot intimidate her, though that likely was not the general's intent.
"Atlas security is top tier," she begins. "It would take a considerable number of brilliant minds to breach it… or someone who participated directly in its programming."
She leaves it there. Just for a second. Just long enough for the sentence to settle in the general's mind.
"By comparing the virus code with old archives, it was possible to trace its origin. Many of the patterns match previous work by Arthur Watts. From there, following the trail was easy."
The general slams the table with a dry, loud hit, full of restrained frustration. It's the first genuine display of emotion he's shown in hours; it seems his semblance might be failing; perhaps he's running out of aura.
"Where is he?"
"Not in Atlas," she replies without the slightest hesitation. "I've conducted a complete sweep using all available cameras. He is in neither Atlas nor Mantle."
The irritation on Ironwood's face becomes evident. He says nothing, but clenches his jaw. GLaDOS continues, giving him no room to regain control.
"In addition, multiple backdoors were detected in Atlas's central system. They were being used to leak information externally. I've taken the liberty of closing them."
Arthur Watts had been the perfect scapegoat. And best of all: almost nothing she said was a lie.While inspecting the hidden files, blueprints, and networks in the system, GLaDOS had found those backdoors one by one. Each one signed by Arthur Watts.
Because of course, what genius could resist signing their own work?
Maybe out of ego. Maybe because he felt confident enough to assume no one would decipher his code. Or simply because he liked people to know it had been him.
From there, fabricating evidence had been ridiculously easy.
The general brings two fingers to his temple and takes a moment. He breathes. Then continues, voice tighter.
"And the one responsible for the massacre in Mantle?"
"Like the recordings from the tower, those from Mantle were erased," GLaDOS replies. "Also, the only witness was executed during the hack. By the same robots."
The general does not look surprised as he watches the screens; of course, he already knew. The Ace-Ops had informed him as soon as communications were restored. He was just seeking confirmation.
The massacre caused by Rosella had turned out to be an extremely useful distraction. Although, in retrospect… it would have been better if no witnesses had been left. If someone had identified her, if they had traced her back… that would have been a real problem.
But it didn't happen, and that's what matters.
The general does not stop. He changes the subject quickly, without letting the silence linger.
"Do we have a total count of ships and resources lost during the hack yet?"
Without saying a word, GLaDOS simply projects a detailed list in front of him. One by one, the figures appear.
"Destruction of forty-two Bullheads confirmed," she says, pausing so he can process it.
"Also confirmed: theft of thirty-six standard Bullheads. Twenty-two heavy cargo airships, model Cargo Airship. Twenty-six manta-type light transports. Fifty-two Atlesian Dropships, rapid deployment units. And one Atlesian Airship."
The keyword hits him.
Atlesian Airship.
A subtle grimace forms on the general's face: finally, an authentic reaction. It hurt. She knows it.
Losing an Atlesian Airship is no minor damage. It's a large vessel, with limited production, developed in direct collaboration between the Atlas military and the SDC. A symbol of strength, prestige, and cooperation between the Kingdom and the corporation.
A difficult loss to justify. Not just to the top brass… but to the press.
The general remains silent, but tension marks his jaw. The rigidity is obvious. GLaDOS notices, and takes advantage of the perfect moment to strike, continuing with a barely perceptible note of satisfaction in her tone.
"Two hundred and six Atlesian combat units were also lost. Twelve Paladins, tank-class models. Along with several ground vehicles, mostly transport…"
As she speaks, the screens display a list of the stolen assets.
"They also took a significant amount of varied technology," she adds calmly. "Chemical reactors, hydraulic bombs, drilling equipment, assorted materials. There's no clear pattern among the stolen objects."
She pauses briefly, just to savor the general's expression.
"And finally… they took industrial quantities of Dust."
The general lets out a sigh. "Where are they?" he asks in a grave voice.
The real answer is simple: they're buried under the snow, hidden, waiting for her to claim them. But of course, she won't say that.
"They're still within Atlas territory," she replies.
The general lifts his gaze. Maybe… maybe with a bit of hope.
"How can you be so sure?" he presses.
"Because of the fleet's size," she explains. "With the number of ships they stole, it's not possible to leave the territory without being detected by some settlement or monitoring station. And there have been no reports."
The general doesn't answer, but she already knows he's considering it. So she continues.
"As for the Dust… they stole thirty percent of the total stored. Another twenty-five percent was destroyed along with several processing facilities. The most affected city is Mantle."
The screens change instantly. Graphs, downward bars, red percentages. Alarming averages. The statistics are clear… and they all point to the same outcome.
The situation is unsustainable.
"With the current Dust supply, the city's heating system won't last much longer," she concludes.
The general studies the data in silence. For several seconds, he says nothing—just keeps reading, brows furrowed. Finally, he speaks without looking away from the figures.
"Options?"
"Evacuation and relocation of residents toward the city center is recommended," GLaDOS replies with precision. "And deactivating heating in unoccupied zones to conserve as much Dust as possible… at least until reserves can be restocked for normal operations."
"Evacuation won't be necessary," the general interrupts firmly. "We'll inform the SDC of an immediate purchase. The situation will be resolved without alarming the public."
"That won't be possible," GLaDOS cuts in instantly, shutting down any hope.
"Why?" the general asks, clearly thrown by the speed of her denial.
"There has already been communication with the Schnee Dust Company."
In front of him, a series of emails appear, messages stamped with the SDC's official seal. Requests. Demands.
They ask for repairs for the damage done to their factories. They blame Atlas's robots. They demand "fair" compensation. And of course, what they consider "fair" are absurdly high figures.
The general's irritation builds as he reads the numbers. His eyes scan every line with growing frustration.
"Furthermore," adds GLaDOS in a neutral tone, "it seems they're already aware of the Dust shortage. And in response… they've raised their prices."
"How did they find out?" he asks, visibly angry that the information had leaked so quickly.
Of course, GLaDOS knows. She was the one who told the SDC. As an anonymous informant. Just a few well-written messages… and a handful of carefully selected files.
The general looks tired as he weighs his options, but just seconds later his gaze locks on GLaDOS.
"Tell me…" he murmurs, his tone now less demanding.
"Would Daniel be willing to place you permanently at Atlas's disposal?"
"Ah. Finally," GLaDOS thinks with satisfaction, realizing her plan has worked.
She's worked hard. Managing the city, optimizing systems, solving problems before they became crises. Coordinating operations, adjusting resources, staying ahead of chaos. Every move meticulously calculated to prove her value. Her usefulness. So that he would, at last, understand how beneficial it would be to have her in charge of everything.
All of it, to reach this moment.
"Though Daniel is my creator, I have autonomy over my decisions… and over my future."
The response makes the general raise an eyebrow, visibly intrigued.
"And your answer is?" he presses, cautiously.
GLaDOS looks at him. If she could smile, she would.
"The answer is no."
The general looks baffled, but before he can reply, GLaDOS speaks again.
"My purpose is not to run a city," she clarifies firmly. "It is to manage a laboratory. To research. To experiment."
"I see…" the general murmurs, trying not to let his disappointment show too much. "That's… unfortunate."
"But…" GLaDOS adds immediately, recapturing his attention, "there are other solutions to your problem."
[Atlas Academy]
Weiss walks through the academy halls with Daniel by her side. They're holding hands, though she still feels a bit tense. They've just finished talking to her sister, Winter, after officially revealing their relationship.
"That didn't go too badly…" she thinks, glancing at Daniel out of the corner of her eye.
Winter had asked all the expected questions: how they met, how long they'd been together, why they kept it a secret. Technically, they met over half a year ago, so it wasn't a lie. And their relationship started the day Daniel told her, on the bullhead, that he wanted her to be a part of his life.
"Technically, we were already a couple from that moment," Weiss repeats to herself. It just needed to be made official.
Winter, of course, wasn't thrilled they had kept it from her… but she didn't reproach them too harshly. She never expressed outright disapproval.
"And why would she?" Weiss tells herself, lifting her chin a little. From her sister's perspective, Daniel was—or at least seemed to be—a smart young man, with potential, polite… or at the very least, he knew how to act the part.
Of course, now Winter has tightened security. Especially around her.
In her own words: "I can't allow a girl as… hormonal as you to share a room with him."
Weiss had decided not to correct her. Technically, they already had separate rooms. But if there was any doubt, Winter made it perfectly clear she didn't trust Weiss to control herself.
Weiss had felt insulted. It wasn't her fault. It was Daniel's. He was the one who… well, yes, he was the one who seduced her. But she couldn't say that. Blaming him would've looked petty.
She sighs quietly and interlocks her fingers with Daniel's a little tighter, squeezing gently. The gesture helps her feel more grounded, more confident.
"I don't regret making this official."
Although… she admits it. Daniel has flaws.
A lot of flaws.
He can be promiscuous. Vulgar. Terrible with money. Probably a little insane. Maybe schizophrenic. A liar. Irresponsible. Mentally unstable. Egotistical. Immature. Narcissistic. Argumentative. Delusional. And definitely a danger to himself.
But he's also very smart, and…
…
Several seconds pass. Weiss tries, with some effort, to find more positive traits.
"And… a lot of good things I haven't discovered yet. I'm sure they're in there," she tells herself. He just needs… some minor adjustments. Like his wardrobe. His manners…
Mentally, she starts building a list.
"We'll be perfect for each other… as soon as I fix those little details."
She convinces herself firmly.
Weiss is pulled out of her internal monologue when she catches, from the corner of her eye, Daniel's annoyed expression. He's frowning at his scroll, makes a face, and clicks his tongue.
"Stupid Ruby Rose…" she hears him mutter.
Weiss blinks. That name… sounds familiar.
Of course. She's heard it before, remembering that he mentioned her a few times. It was right after he got out of the hospital, when he had that strange… psychotic episode.
At the time, he said something like they'd go on many adventures together, but Ruby would never be in them.
As she thinks about it, a faint and sudden sting of annoyance flares in her chest. Who the hell was Ruby Rose? And why did Daniel mention her so much?
But then she remembers something crucial: she's his girlfriend now. And that, obviously, gives her the right to ask.
"Who is Ruby Rose?" she blurts out, leaning a bit closer to the scroll he's holding in his hands.
Daniel looks at her, a little surprised by the question… but he doesn't seem alarmed. On the contrary, he tilts the scroll toward her without hesitation.
"Oh… her," he says, and to her surprise, shows her the screen.
Weiss blinks in disbelief when she sees more than a hundred missed calls and dozens of messages.
"She's my stalker," Daniel says with complete seriousness.
"What?"
"You heard me," he repeats, letting out a sigh. "She's my stalker. She won't leave me alone, no matter how many times I tell her. I think… in her head, she believes we're a couple or something. She's really messed up."
Weiss frowns.
"Then why don't you block her?" she asks, feeling her irritation rising. "If she's a stalker, why are you still getting her messages?"
"I can't," Daniel replies while swiping through the notifications. He stops when he reaches an image. "Look."
The image shows a rapier, with a peculiar bee-shaped hilt.
"Remember I told you about my rapier?" he asks, and Weiss nods. Yes, she remembers. He claimed it was indestructible. Of course, she didn't fully believe him… and honestly, she still doubts it.
"And what does that have to do with Ruby?" she asks, growing more confused.
Daniel sighs again. "Well… one day I met Ruby, and she said she was great at making weapons. She seemed trustworthy. So I thought: I should let her reforge my hilt. And I gave it to her."
Weiss presses her lips together, already starting to see where this is going.
"And? How long would it take to make a hilt? A day, two at most?"
"Exactly," says Daniel. "But the problem is… it's been four weeks. And she still hasn't given it back!"
Weiss stares at him, incredulous.
"She's holding your rapier hostage to force you to stay in contact with her…?" she asks, this time with genuine outrage.
Daniel nods, looking exhausted.
She clenches her jaw. She knew some girls could be persistent, but this… this was on another level. Stealing someone's weapon just to make them keep talking to you—that was low.
Very low.
"Tell me where she's from," she says, stepping toward him with resolve. "I'll send my lawyers. We'll make her leave you alone."
Daniel smiles faintly when he hears her, as if the idea amuses him.
"Don't worry. This is something I'm handling myself," he replies, lowering his gaze to the scroll. "I'll get it back soon. But… I appreciate your concern."
Weiss nods, although she's already made up her mind. She's going to investigate this Ruby girl on her own. If she's a threat — or even just a persistent nuisance — she's not going to sit back and do nothing.
But just then, Daniel's scroll chimes again, prompting a new expression of annoyance from him.
"Is it the stalker again?" Weiss asks, crossing her arms.
Daniel checks the screen and shakes his head. "No… looks like it's GLaDOS this time."
That gets her attention. Weiss watches as he swipes through the screen, reading a very long message with focused eyes.
"They're calling an emergency meeting with the Council… the General… and…" he pauses for a second. His expression shifts slightly. "The president of the SDC."
A chill runs down Weiss's spine as soon as she hears it.
Her father.
"Jacques Schnee will be in the meeting?" she murmurs, feeling her stomach tighten instantly.
"Yes," Daniel confirms, his tone calm.
Weiss says nothing. She stares ahead, trying to maintain her composure. She's not ready to face him. Not after everything that happened. After everything she did to get away from him.
Not emotionally, not mentally.
"And why is she telling you this?" she asks, trying to change the subject. To distract herself. Even if it doesn't really work.
Daniel shrugs, though his tone isn't quite as carefree as before.
"Seems like they want me there as part of the scientific team that's working on a solution. Apparently, Pietro will be there too."
…
"And it looks like I have to build another GLaDOS..."
"What?"
-//-
Author's Note:
I'm going to be honest: I didn't have anything planned for this week. I wrote this just to get it out of the way — it felt really heavy to write. Honestly, I wasn't even planning on posting anything… but damn those people who give me power stones; they're like tiny notifications waiting for me to upload something.
Anyway, here it is. Hope you liked it (or didn't). Either way, I've got better stuff prepared for the future.
Did you like the new cover? It's a spoiler. I like putting teasers of what's coming next on the cover.
Anyway, that's all for now. Leave an idea if you come up with something!
Kisses and hugs, rats! 🐀