Subduction 1.7

Danny was waiting for them in a wheelchair almost jittering from cabin fever. "Dad, this is Daria Lane. Daria this is my dad, Danny."

Daria wore a bright yellow dress with black leggings and a heavy winter coat that extended past her hands. "Hello Mr. Hebert," she leaned over to shake his hand, "Please call me Daria."

"Then just call me Danny. Thanks for everything you've done for my daughter. Not many people would offer a fifteen-year-old a job."

"Not many fifteen-year-olds would stop to help a lady in distress. Did she tell you?" She waited for him to shake his head. "There I was on the Boardwalk, just finished visiting that little place that sells all of those organic sauces, when some young punk ran into me. Made me drop my bag and sauce just went everywhere, completely ruined my dress. Your daughter was the only one to stop and help me. Everyone else just kept walking by. I talked with her and I needed some extra help and she needed some extra money. It was a match made in heaven." She leaned down and whispered, "also, I thought she was seventeen. Grew like a weed, didn't she."

Danny laughed stiffly to avoid jostling the ribs, "Yes, she did. What would she be doing for you?"

"General menial work. She might wash dishes on the weekend but child labor laws wouldn't allow her to work late enough on school days. She would be cleaning and doing prep work on those days."

Checked out Taylor took over pushing his wheelchair out of the hospital. The old wheelchair kept trying to veer right forcing Taylor to muscle it away from the wall.

Danny nodded, "Reminds me of when I was young."

"Me too. I actually worked my way up until I could finally purchase my own club. Those were the days." She sighed, "Great to remember, but terrible to live."

"Isn't that the truth." Danny smiled and let it slip away, "I told Taylor that until her grades went up I didn't want her to have a job."

"That's fine. There's always work that needs to be done and the job will still be there in the future."

"I'm glad you understand. Taylor should be ready before the summer, Winslow just wasn't good for her."

"Dad," Taylor's voice went slightly squeaky, "I'd really prefer if we didn't talk about that."

"Right. Sorry. It's over now. Some foundation just upped and paid for her tuition."

"I told her all about it, Dad."

"She did," Daria agreed. "She was very excited. Even about the uniforms."

"Polo shirts and khaki pants. I don't have to worry about standing out among all the rich kids," Taylor explained.

"See? You raised a very practical daughter, Danny."

"Thank you, Daria. Now help me out of this thing." Taylor held the chair steady while Daria leveraged him up. Daria drove an SUV about a decade old. Clean, polished, and with built in seat warmers. Danny took two wincing steps and fell into the front seat. "Ah, freedom," he sighed. He ran his hand over the dashboard. "Nice car."

"I buy American. You get more car per dollar." True in the 70's and only more accurate as time passed with globalization rapidly becoming a pipe dream. Taylor returned the wheelchair and took a seat behind Danny.

"It shows. So how did you start the Palanquin?"

"I'd like to say that I drew pictures and dreamed about the club since I was a child, but there was a lot of market research in it. The location, theme of the club, all of it was researched to fill a niche. And it paid off. Barely solvent with the most popular club in town. And you?"

Danny looked out at the city. The boat graveyard was hidden by buildings, but Danny turned in the general direction. "No one dreams about becoming a union rep. There was a job that needed doing and I was elected to do it. It's a good job. A necessary one."

"What about you, Taylor, what do you dream of doing?"

Taylor shot a glare at the back of Daria's seat. "I don't know. I guess I might become a... writer?"

"You still have time to decide. I didn't decide on anything until I was twenty-two." She tittered. "Though you might not want to wait quite that long." Friendly, klutzy ditz with good business sense. Mission achieved.

The roads were clear and they made quick time. Which was good because helping Danny back out of the car and onto the couch took ten minutes. They made Danny comfortable and Taylor went to tell Daria good-bye. Taylor had developed a slight twitch in one eye. "What was all of that? It was like I don't even know you."

"Know me?" She affected a southern accent and placed a hand over her heart, "I'm just a humble waitress who wanted to make it big in the big city. Of course you know me, darling. See you next week."

x x x

A long series of experimentation with Taylor ended with the decision to modify Faultline's ability into a Shaker ability rather than Striker. Her normal power let her feel the path of least resistance like a lightning bolt traveling between her fingers or hands, rapidly fluctuating until Faultline chose a path to cut. The preview of the ability was promising if overwhelming. The path of least resistance outlined everything inorganic in a twenty foot radius. The only way someone would be able to sneak up on her would be if they were naked. And only 1 in 20 or so capes went around naked.

Other additions such as a subconscious defense or Brute durability were still possibilities. Though Taylor said that her spirit was becoming more recalcitrant the more they tried. The Shaker upgrade would have to suffice for now.

The true prize wasn't on the table. Taylor had refused to even try removing the Manton effect and Faultline hadn't pushed. Perhaps after she had seen combat...

For now Taylor would be spending the next few days playing nurse and gopher for her father. School starting the next Monday, it would be at least a week before Faultline could actually receive her upgrade. Which was fine, as she didn't want to go to Somer's Rock with an unfamiliar ability.

Tess owned Somer's Rock. A dingy pub amongst other dingy pubs. The only claim to fame was that Tess had a cochlear implant and would be happy to remove it and serve costumed villains for an exorbitant fee. Faultline personally didn't see the point. There were half a dozen ways to bug the bar even before tinker tech became an issue. If the PRT wanted to listen in then they would. She supposed that a deaf waiter added a nice bit of atmosphere, and the amount of money paid could make her a status symbol, but the entire thing was ridiculous.

Faultline walked in exactly five minutes before the scheduled meeting. Early enough to show respect but not so early that it might appear as groveling.

She walked past Tattletale and Grue. The Undersiders were a teenage villain group. If they somehow managed to avoid prison or death they would inevitably break up over some internal drama. Faultline had seen it a dozen times in the past. Faultline was involved in it in the past. It was uncertain whether Tattletale was holding off said drama or would be the ultimate cause. Probably both.

"I heard that you got a new recruit," the little bitch spoke up.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Leet said there was a new tinker." Tattletale gave that damned grin, "Not a Tinker. Now why would you lie about that?"

Faultline turned around. Against Thinkers the only way to win was not to play.

"It would have to be something big. And new. Oh, it's that girl." Shit. Faultline continued walking.

"Tattletale, shut up. Now isn't the time." Grue used smoke to blind his enemies. He was effective but limited. Too proud of his own muscles, nothing beyond normal athletic levels. Worked as a leg breaker until the Undersiders picked him up. Now their nominal leader. Everyone, even Grue, knew that Tattletale pulled the strings. But Tattletale still allowed herself to be restrained by Grue.

How much does she know? A PRT leak would mean that she believes Taylor is a Master. It would also give her Taylor's identity. But was that the source or the extent of her abilities? Worrying. Especially if she tries poaching Taylor.

Faultline made a route around the room, bowed her head to Lung in a quick gesture of respect. The leader of the ABB was easy to understand and live with. Despite controlling an all Asian gang he didn't care about race. It was simply easier to form a rallying point around race, so Lung used race. Truthfully Lung didn't care about race because he didn't care about people. The only way to make him care would be to insult, steal from, or attack him or his gang members. And then he'd kill or maim. If you never interacted with him he would never seek you out. His gang members were a different story, but not even they were dumb enough to voluntarily mess with a cape.

He came alone. A sign of strength and weakness. He was strong enough to need no backup. But he had only one powered subordinate to help control the second largest gang in Brockton.

Kaiser was Lung's polar opposite. He acted because he cared about people. Of course he was a racist dickweed so his good intentions didn't count worth shit. The man controlled the most capes in the city bar none including the PRT. Some of those capes were on loan from Gesellschaft, but that didn't change the amount of firepower he controlled at any one time. The only gang that even came close to his equal was the ABB and any fight between the two would result in a Pyrrhic victory for the E88.

He was here tonight with Fenja. Or was it Menja? Super powered blonde twins, way to live the Aryan dream. Normally he would be with Purity as a show of strength. The most powerful blaster in Brockton Bay had been keeping a low profile for the last few months. Another baby? It didn't take a genius to pull out a calendar and count the months she had vanished last time.

Coil was here with a faceless bodyguard. He couldn't be making money with the way he ran his operation. Low amounts of unprofitable crime. Highly paid mercenaries with high tech weaponry. Someone was bankrolling him. Best case scenario was that he was a rich eccentric who wanted to play villain. Worst case was that a large organized crime group like the Elite were making a play for Brockton Bay.

Faultline sat here based on reputation alone. Brockton Bay was only a base of operation. She held no territory outside of her nightclub and had no ties with the local underground outside of the required politics, like this meeting. Gregor had her back and would be observing everyone else in his quiet, analytical way.

Über and Leet weren't present, that was expected. They were small time independents, the joke of Brockton Bay. Still, their operation was bigger than the Undersiders. How did they get the invite? Did Tattletale hear about this and gatecrash?

The Merchants made a loud entrance. They were the expected twenty minutes late. A sign of inflated self-importance and a blatant insult to everyone else in the room. Skidmark and Squealer in the castoff rags that served as a 'costume'. "What's up, my bitches?" said Skidmark satisfying his requirements for profanity and inanity.

They had a well deserved reputation as bottom feeders. It was their greatest strength. No questions asked recruitment resulted in a constant pool of hopefuls. Likewise they were the only choice in gangs for every non-white and non-Asian person in the city. The ABB could tap 27% of the population, the E88 38%, the remaining 35% was the Merchant's. According to the last census at least. They were cockroaches, lowly creatures that were impossible to wipe out.

"Everyone here?" Kaiser took command. Expected. Most powerful man in the room and reasonably close to a neutral party, in that he hated both parties involved. "We're here to talk about the current hostilities between the Azn Bad Boys and the Merchants. It has gone on long enough and now peace must be made."

"That fucking shitstain started it. Those fuckers tried to roll us and we're supposed to take it? Fuck that!"

"Perhaps you would like to apologize." Lung sat there in an aura of implacable calm belied only by him suddenly growing two inches.

"Enough! The PRT is a hair breadth's away from calling in reinforcements. This dispute must end now." Kaiser, Lung, and Skidmark took turns glaring at each other. Men. Faultline signaled Tess for another drink.

A good deal of posturing went on. Tattletale sat there looking like Christmas came early, Coil never spoke a word, and Faultline kept sipping away at her Shirley Temples. After an hour of repeated threats, growls, and semi-productive bargain the new map of Brockton Bay had been worked out.

"The Merchants moved this into civilian territory as such they will lose the territory between College and Parks. In return the Empire will turn over the eastern docks to the Merchants." Kaiser drew the new borders and pushed the map to the center of the table.

That had been a surprise. That the Empire would abandon territory. Kaiser had shrugged it off as "only filth now occupy that area. The Empire wants nothing to do with it." But any concessions from them suggested that the PRT was far too close to bringing the big hammer down.

Lung reached under his mask and stroked his chin, "I find this acceptable."

"Don't got a fuckin' choice now do I? Fuck, fine, it's a deal."

They staggered their exit with Lung leaving last. The PRT wouldn't try a sting with Lung in the vicinity and the concession to Lung's power pleased the man.

"What do you think, Gregor?" asked Faultline.

Gregor's lips turned down. "Tattletale, she knows too much."

"Yes. I don't think there is much we can do about it."

"Warn Taylor."

"There is that, yes. I'm more worried about Tattletale making a recruitment pitch."

"I do not think Taylor would leave us. She is very loyal."

"I hope not. But, fucking Thinkers. We need to set that road trip up as soon as possible. We can't just grab her and leave. She'd never agree to leave Danny, and Danny wouldn't let her go."

"What are you thinking?"

"Either the Toybox needs to come here or Danny needs to find out about Taylor."

"You would tell her father? I do not think she would appreciate that."

"No, I wouldn't tell him. The PRT would."