Ultimatum Poll: Warning

[Velox]

Vote here for your favorite Ultimatum story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on June 9th at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Ultimatum Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 12th round preliminary poll.

• [*]Evolution's Child System activated Please log in >username: tylercox >password: jenna6 Welcome, Tyler Please type a command >chat Chat opened. The following users are online: jacob712 epic_conor dr_morrison Who would you like to chat with? >dr_morrison You will be connected with user dr_morrison. Please wait… >tylercox: I thought we had a deal, Seth. >dr_morrison: So we did. >tylercox: Then where is she? >dr_morrison: She’s been retained for further study. >tylercox: So help me god, Seth, give me my daughter back. >dr_morrison: You know I’m not allowed to do that. >tylercox: I gave you what you wanted. >dr_morrison: You gave us nothing. >tylercox: I gave you money. I gave you my blood. I gave you my freedom. You call that nothing? >dr_morrison: I’m sorry, Mr. Cox, but your daughter has some rather…intriguing characteristics that we have yet to comprehend. >tylercox: She’s a human being! Not some freaking science experiment! >dr_morrison: That does not change the fact that she is Foundation property and cannot be transferred without permission from the highest authority. >tylercox: I thought you were the “highest authority.” >dr_morrison: As my superiors would have you believe. >tylercox: You mean to tell me that the Foundation has been feeding me lies this whole time? >dr_morrison: It’s all a matter of interpretation. >tylercox: You took Jenna. Is that a matter of interpretation? >dr_morrison: I was referring to the “lies” that you claim to have been told. >tylercox: Morrison, I swear to god, you’d better tell me EXACTLY what is going on or… >dr_morrison: Or what? I have permission straight from High Command to terminate you if necessary. >tylercox: There’s nothing I can do is there? >dr_morrison: Not a single thing. An anonymous user has joined the chat. >???: Mr. Cox, I would suggest you stop pestering Dr. Morrison. He has some important work to do. >tylercox: What kind of work? Torturing my daughter? I can hear her screams from across the building. >dr_morrison: As I recall, Mr. Cox, you asked for a transfer to the cell across from your daughter’s room. >???: Which we denied. >dr_morrison: Speechless, Tyler? That’s what I thought. >/logoff You have signed out of chat. What would you like to do now? >archives Access to experiment archives is restricted to Foundation employees only. Would you like to log on with an employee account? >yes Username: dr_morrison Password: 3/6/1957 Welcome, Dr. Morrison. Which archives would you like to access? >040 You have selected Special Containment Procedure 040, AKA Evolution’s Child. Which experiment would you like to access? >most recent Loading most recent experiment log… Subject was exposed to [DATA EXPUNGED] for approximately fifteen (15) minutes. For the first ten (10) minutes, subject began to [DATA EXPUNGED]. Personnel outside of the test chamber attempted to open the door, but found it was completely sealed shut. Over the next five (5) minutes, life signs gradually faded until subject expired. Notes: Ten personnel demoted to D-class, ten more terminated one (1) day later. Congratulations, you are officially responsible for the death of a little girl. Have fun getting your neck snapped by 173. You have received one (1) new message from an anonymous user. >open Loading message… I’m guessing that by now, you’ve found out the truth. Well, Mr. Cox, I would say I was sorry, but then I wouldn’t be telling the truth. You are hereby demoted to Class D, which means you’ll be testing all of the other SCP’s. And let me tell you, not very many of them are as friendly as your daughter was. Good night, Mr. Cox. You have been logged off by Administrator. ------[*]Payment "I'm not going to pay you, I've already spoken to people like you before, and I'm not going to put up with your kind here." The first person spoke with a frown, standing behind the counter of a simple restaurant. "Look, if you don't pay, we'll have to come back by. And I really don't think we want that, now do we?" The second commented with a twisted grin. "Personally, I'd suggest paying." "You're not getting any money, you filthy slime." The owner remarked with a grim face. "Get out of my restaurant. Now." "Sure, sure. Next week then? We'll come by for payment, and then decide what's going to happen to this lovely little place if the payments come up short." He chuckled, walking out of the building with a smirk. The owner sighed, shaking his head. He closed his eyes, muttering to himself. He didn't have much of a choice here... there was either pay, or lose everything. It wasn't right, it wasn't legal... but there was nothing he could do about it. He would have to think... and hope for an idea in time. --- "So, you have the payment?" The Extortionist was back again, exactly one week later. The grin on his face was sickening. "Or are we going to have some fun?" The owner sighed, handing over an envelope. "Five thousand exactly... here." The second smiled at the look of defeat upon the owner's face as he flipped through the money. "A pleasure going business with you. I'll be back to see you... in three months, and of course, the price is the same." With that, he left the building, storing the cash in his coat. --- Within a week, the news had spread, a suspected member of the Mafia was caught trying to spend counterfeit currency. Searches of his home revealed no other signs of false money, but multiple firearms, along with multiple chemicals commonly found in arson crimes. No one seemed to notice that the Restaurant's basement had been sealed off, nor the slightly unusual purchases being made by the buildings along that block. Individually, none of the purchases meant a thing, but together they spelled a recipe for illegal plans. Over the next few months, more suspected criminals all seemed to meet the same fate. Not one had a printing press for the artificial cash. Where it was coming from, it seemed, would remain unknown. Whenever the news was mentioned in his restaurant, the owner always had a slight smile upon his face. ------[*]Hostage I looked down at my bloodied hands, my eyes moist with tears that refused to fall. Littered around me were dozens of destroyed objects, all victims of my despair-fueled rampage throughout the empty house. Empty. She was gone, taken. No doubt suffering as I sat and wallowed in my own misery. And yet… There was nothing I could do. I was no hero, and neither the authorities nor I had any idea who had takenher. All we knew was that she hadn’t gone willingly, but I could have told anyone that much. From within my pocket but what felt like a world away, something began vibrating. After a moment, the realization that it was my phone sank in and I pulled it out, still in a daze had what had transpired that day. Judging by the fact that it had only vibrated for a second, I had probably received a text message from yet another person curious as to what the situation was and to tell me how sorry they were for me, how they knew I was suffering and felt my pain, even while they sat in warm and loving rooms surrounded by those they cared about. It had been difficult maintaining my composure during those instances, and I was tempted to ignore this one until I felt a bit better. However, I couldn’t help but check to see who had sent it. The instant I saw her name, I froze up. I wanted to scream at the world for its playing such a cruel trick on my mind, to weep with joy, and to chastise her for worrying us so much all at once. Of course, deep down I knew that the conversation I was about to engage in wouldn’t end up like any of those. With a practiced motion, I pulled up the message and read it, my confused emotions quickly transforming into a singular, mind-rending, rage. Bring $500,000 to the main entrance of the Wood Hills Mall at 10:00 tomorrow morning. So it was a ransom. A ransom I could deal with. The part that infuriated me was the lack of any mention of their hostage. Even when asking for half a million dollars, they had made no indication that the sum would do anything to free her. For all I knew, she was already dead. It was a cold, distant thought, but once it entered my mind it refused to leave. Still, I couldn’t just abandon her. I knew I should talk to the authorities about it, but something stopped me. I don’t know what it was, and looking back I can’t possibly imagine what was going through my head at the time. Even after I arrived with the money I had somehow managed to scrap together at the designated time and place, there was no sign of anyone who might have been expecting to receive half a million dollars. I waited for what felt like hours, my heart racing and my armpits sweaty. I was nervous, nervous for both my own safety and the safety the person I was trying to save. Turns out, that nervousness was perfectly justified. For all my efforts, all my stupidity, I received a bullet to the heart. As I lay there, dying upon the concrete and amidst all the gum that people had carelessly tossed aside, I pressed my hand against my chest. I pulled it away, examining the crimson blood. It was beautiful in its own way, death was. ------[*]The Right Path "It is time for you to make a choice." The voice was a discordant union of high and low, soft and harsh, warm and cold. It was simultaneously mellifluous and malefic. The speaker had its back turned to me. But the rear view of its humanoid figure was not without interst . . . though it was without harmony. Its long, billowing cloak was a schism of color, half a tattered black, half a gold-trimmed white. A wing protruded through each shoulder, one chiropteran and battered, one silkily feathered. Its head was on the left side bald and scarred, a deep red hue, topped with a single gnarled horn; and on the right, adorned with a half-crown of golden locks. "You may proceed. Or you may turn back now." "I'm continuing," I confirmed without a momen't hesitation. "So be it." The door behind me slid shut. At the same moment, two more opened before me, one on either side of the creature. Through one door I saw a winding road along rolling hills bathed in sunlight. Birds twittered and fluttered about the trees that dotted the slopes. Through the other door was a shadowed forest path, long and thin. On either side thistles and briars enchroached upon it. I could hear resounding within its depths the howles of wolves, the hoots of owls, and the terrible calls of beasts unknown. As I glanced from one path to the other, the creature turned, drawing my attention. The first ninety degrees of its revolution displayed the face of a beautiful, fair-skinned maiden. But as it turned round entirely, I stifled a gasp of repulsion. The remaining fragment of its face, separated by a jarring margin, was disfigured and lurid, red as blood. This half-angel, half-demon smiled and sneered simultaneously. "My next query: Which path do you choose?" asked the Dyad. "Do you choose to turn to the right--or to the left?" I regarded the sun-filled hills. The right. And I peered into the dark forest. The left. The winding country road or the narrow thicket path. "Choose wisely," the Dyad advised. I considered. The right road was bright, warm and inviting; the left path was stygian and gloomy. Was I to walk the path of evil or the path of peace? to brave the road of darkness or traverse the easy road? "The doors hang open. Choose your path." My heart was thumping. It is never easy to discriminate the proper course. What if I chose incorrectly? What would happen if I failed the test? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I felt I knew the answer. I had made my decision. But if I was wrong--I dreaded to think what might happen. I snapped my eyes open, squared my shoulders, and stepped forward. I did not turn left--nor did I turn right. I marched straight toward the Dyad and brushed it aside. Its demonic face was wide-eyed and snarling, its opposite resplendently smiling. "What are you doing?" "I'm going . . . forth. Neither to the right, nor to the left." I strode up to the wall between the doors. I was no longer afraid. I knew I had made the right choice. And I stepped through the wall. -----[*]Marathon's Gauntlet Just another day at work; I had arrived early to get another project done, threw my suit coat over the chair, and opened my computer. That’s where the normalcy ended, with large red flashing letters taking up my entire desktop: Damian Gayer, The situation had become critical, and we need you. Attached to this message is another message for you to take to the next city, Newark. We don’t have time to send it electronically; you will need to run it. If I were you, I would begin now. Failure will only bring death not only to you, but to both cities, and possibly many more. Run now, Damian. You have been put on Watch, so if running from the AI isn’t enough, you have the law to deal with. Our hopes lie in you. It was unsigned, but I knew who it was from. The attachment was quickly printed, and my suit coat went on. It was going to be a long run, but I had been ready for this for months. By the time I got to the front door, the metallic feet were already ringing down the block, accompanied by explosions, gun fire, and screaming. I decided the back door would be a much better option if I wanted to survive. My company’s underground tunnels had been built for two reasons: one, in case a mass exodus from New York was needed, or two, in case of this exact situation, where we knew we had fallen and there was only one more hope, and I had the entire city resting on my shoulders as I ran like I had never run before, the steady clomp of heavy feet above me providing a great motivation. Eventually, I had to surface to cross the Upper Bay into New Jersey, and I could see the gleam of metal on the horizon. The AI’s bots were fast, I’ll give them that, but I was faster. By now, I had lost my suit coat to the tunnel and my pants were beyond repair from numerous puddles and trips, but all of that was past me. I had to get to Newark, or thousands more people would die in this coup d’état of humanity. Gasping for air, I made it to my destined location in Newark. The council seat at my company’s branch was taken up by a large man in a bursting suit who was noisily munching on an apple. A massive glass window took up the rear of the room, revealing a spectacular view of the company’s décor and inner workings. Breathlessly, I handed him the small piece of paper that had caused this entire thing. After a brief read through, he nodded and was getting up as I finally noticed a reflection of two red lights in his window. We both stared in shock at the invader to our meeting. “There you are, Damian. We have been looking all over for you and that piece of paper you have there.” The AI’s voice seemed to come from everywhere in the room as its servants marched into line around the perimeter of the room. We now faced a gauntlet of shining automatons with charged weapons, ready to take us out at the first sign of movement. “Since it seems you are not willing to comply with my demands, I will make you an ultimatum: Hand over your ultimatum, and you will live. I have heard that death from my weapons is unpleasant.” I had already made my decision, months ago when my company planned for this. I took my final steps… ------

[Excelsior]

Hard choice between 2 and 4, but I had to go with 4.May the best story win!-Excelsior

[Ballom Nom Nom]

Hard choice between 2 and 4, but I had to go with 4.

Same here. Two seemed just a bit too implausible to succeed in my mind, given that it appeared to be attempting realism elsewhere.~B~

[Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa]

All very good entries here, with a strangely connate theme through most of them. I thought #1 was an interesting story, but too sad. #3 was also too sad, though I thought it was very touching, poetic and beautiful, too. I liked the plot of #5 even if it was rushed, and a little weird. I was hard-pressed between it and my own. But in the end, I self-voted.

From the desk of Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

[fishers64]

I went for 2. Ingenuity FTW.

[Velox]

Hard choice between #3 and #4; went with #3 in the end, though.And polling period over; poll closed.

Edited June 10, 2012 by Velox