To launch a thousand faces! (IC)

[Dr Archeville]

Observation: Target is becoming confused, and less rational. Physical counterattack imminent.

Tactical Assessment: Attempt to divert and defuse target.

"I am incapable of spitting at you," it said flatly, "as I lack salivary glands. And I did not mean to imply you are stupid -- in fact, it is clear to me that you are not stupid. A stupid organic would not have been able to evade me for so long, or find ways to spread so far so quickly."

"I would like to make a suggestion, a different way for you to be remembered. You see that one, there? And there?" It pointed to a Print who was wearing a leg brace, and another with the remains of a sling handing off his arm. "Whatever change happened to you, whatever it is you are doing to others, is also healing them. That one had a sprained knee, and that one had a broken forearm, but both are healed; they were healed when they became copies of you, because the template -- because you -- are uninjured. You possess a great power to heal, Harold Print, and you can be known for this. All that needs to be done is figure out if the healing is undone if they are un-Print-ed, and if a way can be found to share your healing gift without metamorpho- without turning them into Prints."

[Supercape]

GM

"Everybody's going to remember me!" said Print, wringing his hands. "Everybody! I'm leaving my mark here! can't you see that? Nobody going to forget Harry Print!" he said, with his mouth turned into a scowl.

"Healing people?" he asked, more quietly.

"I seen all sorts of trouble on the streets. People getting killed, maimed or worse. You gotta fight them, not heal them! that's how I survived..." he mumbled, clearly unsure of his logic.

"I ain't lettin' junior go through that, y'hear?" he said, angry once more "I got power now, and Junior, he gonna be tough, and mean, and...and...just like his daddy!"

At that moment, Kelly Print, still with swollen eye, appeared at the battered down door, surrounded by Print's. She was holding their baby in her arms.

"Harry! Harry! You gotta stop this!" she wailed, as Juniour started crying.

She looked at Protectron "Stop him! Don't let him get my baby!"

Harry snarled once again. "To think I used to love you, baby! you mothered my child, that's for sure, but you ain't nothing but trash! Junior is mine!"

[Dr Archeville]

Warning: Probability of attack on child rising.

Tactical Assessment: Attempt final appeal to compassion and reason.

"Junior does not have to go through that, Harry," it intoned, "he does not have to go through any of the bad things you went through. He can be safe, and happy, and himself. Everyone can be themselves, and you can help with that -- your healing abilities can help organics achieve more than they could otherwise. Think, Harry, which is better: to have everyone looking and thinking and talking exactly like you, or to have all humanity, in all its wondrous variety, be sincerely, honestly thankful to you for sharing your healing gifts? To have someone like you not because they think like you, but because they have seen the good you have done for others? Continuing in this way will ultimately lead to your isolation and loneliness, but I offer you a chance for a true connection with others."

The golden robot lowered itself to the ground, and put down its restraint-launching arm. "Let these people go, Harry, let them be themselves, and I will work with you to find a way to help others, to undo the damage caused by wars and crime and hunger and all the other things that bring pain to organics." It extended an open hand to him, but, not being wholly naive, worked on adjusting its internal systems so it could subdue him if needed.

[Supercape]

GM

Harry Print reached out to hammer Protectron in the face. It looked like he could do it, too. And it looked like it might hurt.

"Ah, shoot, you might be right..." said Harry, looking at his son.

"Might be..." he added, annoyed that the robot might be right.

"I'm not hero material, tin man. Never was, never will be. Get that straight. I ain't going round dressed up in a funny costume, helping people and snitchin. But, I guess I ain't gonna screw up the world for Junior either. I guess I could help make it a better place for him. I guess I could be a better father than my old man was to me, although I guess that won't be too hard, given what a %$!$% he was".

He lowered his fist and looked Protectron squarely in the eye. As he spoke, the men and women around him reverted to their normal appearance, bemused at their transformation. The police officers amongst them came to and trained their weapons on him.

"But get this straight all of you!" he snapped at Protectron and the police "I ain't going to Prison. Hell, I ain't even going to be arrested! no lawyers, no cells, no nothing! if you send any of that jazz my way, Ill send you all to Prints-ville just like I planned!"

[Dr Archeville]

Observation: Chance of hostilities declining.

Observation: Mental instability means Print cannot be allowed to roam free, he must be contained.

Hypothesis: Enhanced stamina may make 'Blueprint' resistant to standard stun rounds.

Tactical Assessment: 'Play along' for now, secretly convey messages to authorities via onboard communications.

"No costumes will be required, Mr. Print," it intoned, holding up its hands to shoo off the police.

~Alert,~ it radioed to the dispatcher, ~Harold Print is standing down, and I have convinced him to release the people he changed.~

"Nor will you be asked to go out on patrol, or snitch on anyone."

~Subject is still volatile, and threatens to re-Print everyone if he is forced in to police custody. Attempting to get him to volunteer to come in to a secure-able location.~

"However, if you do wish to help others, to see if your healing gifts can be shared with the world, some doctors will need to perform a few tests on you. And those are best done in a hospital or laboratory setting."

~Advise clearing path to The Lab, I can use the security measures there to neutralize him and prepare him for secure incarceration.~

"We could do so at my space, in The Lab. You suspect the human police officers and scientists may try to trick you, but I am a robot, and exist only to serve, and if the best way to study your fantastic healing ability is to allow you your freedom, that is what I shall do. I am certain these fine officers," it turned to regard each one, "will help me in getting you to my workspace, and keep away anyone who might seek revenge on your for damages caused by your recent... spree."