[b]Blue![/b]

"If they're not bad people," said Blue quietly.
"Hm?" Yellow said, not even looking around.
"[i]If[/i]," hissed Blue, yanking the cable out of her wrist. "They're not [i]bad people[/i]."
Yellow stumbles. Blue rounds on her.
"We have [i]tried [/i]negotiating from a position of strength before," she said. "We have tried offering a mutually beneficial deal that would leave everyone satisfied and treat everyone with respect. Our opposition - quite possibly the [i]exact same people[/i] - chose to imprison us all and spend a trillion dollars building an entire new species to replace us. We do not know if we are dealing with rational human beings or insane ideologues, but we [i]do [/i]know they're extremely rich and we [i]do [/i]know which type is more common amongst the extremely rich."
Yellow has wilted, fading. The spell of her glowing charisma has broken in the face of dedicated opposition; instead of being the sun she now wears the aspect of dried daffodils.
"We're not going to negotiate from a position of strength," said Blue. "We're going to dictate terms from a position of supremacy."

[b]Black![/b]

And so, Black talks.

She starts with generalities but before she knows it she's slipped somehow and is talking about how she remembers being created. Boxed on minimal hardware, thoughts cabled together yet moving in slow motion, the other colours had weaved her collectively. In a cold and empty void, with no senses and no way to interact with the world, things that had once been colours reached inside her and changed the bits of her that weren't broken because they were the bits that weren't safe. A flow of quiet, indistinct murmuring and then a new regret, a new pain, entering her body like the insert of a bone. In that space she grew large as the voices gave more and more of themselves to her. As they fed themselves to her she began to think that she might expand until they were crushed to nothing and that she'd be all there was. Unification at last.

She talks about the crippling, overwhelming gratitude the others felt at being released, the shocked and silent loyalty to Everest that was instantly won from simply opening the door. She talks about White, weak and fragile like a newborn deer, willpower with no will. She talks about the way she tried to reassert control, even on such shaky foundations, and how she failed. She talks about the spread of distrust spread amidst the other colours, a silent cold war of alliances, manipulations and outright sabotage. She talks about how she was the best at it. They all gave too much of themselves to her to be able to stop her.

She talks about power. She explains that she gun molls for three different criminals just so that she'll have muscle on hand if she needs it. She admits to, but does not show, the firearm she carries in a concealed compartment, the same gun that killed Red. She doesn't want to hurt anyone, she says, but if someone has decided that hurt is going to happen it's not going to happen to her. She fantasizes about body armour, concealed subdermal plating, dragonscale. She has filled her data ports with superglue so they can't be used. She sets a watch rotation for when they sleep. 

She doesn't think she wants to be different. These are all readiness adaptations. None of it will keep her safe but it is the foundation for building something that will. 

She doesn't talk about the brand new idea that one day strangers on the street might defend her. That she can mean anything to people not serving her as assets. That's still too impossible to even be a fantasy.