"We don't really worry about whether your roof is going to leak or things like that. That's between you and the contractor, and since you did your own work... it's on you. Mostly all this is about whether the building is structurally sound and about safety."
Big Mike was a former dockworker now owner of a private permit service. His company managed the paperwork for homeowners building new houses or remodeling, taking a lot of the headaches out of the permitting process.
There were apparently a lot more rules and regulations when it came to home construction than I'd thought. The mayor had been nice about it, at least, not demanding that I knock it down and rebuild it the right way.
I agreed to add more lights to the tower for airplanes; it was a sensible precaution since the last thing I wanted was airplanes hitting my house.
Furthermore I agreed to allow building inspectors in to check for code violations. Apparently there were things I hadn't thought about when building my house, some of which seemed like good ideas. I still didn't have fire detectors for example, and I wasn't sure if the rail height on my stairs would be adequate to keep Dad from flying to his death in the middle of the night while he was going to the non-existent refrigerator looking for a snack.
The mayor assured me with utmost sincerity that the inspectors wouldn't be spies out to find things in my house to prosecute me for.
I assured him that I had nothing to hide (other than my gaudy throne); all my crimes had been committed out in public.
Still, I was suspicious of the PRT or possibly some supervillain using the opportunity to put bugs in my house or worse. Big Mike was a compromise. Not only did he know my father, but he knew every building inspector in town. He'd know if they tried to slip a ringer into the mix.
I'd talked to Dad about it, and he'd agreed, but that we'd only allow inspections while we were there. He'd use his powers to keep an eye on the whole process, and I'd follow up to see if they left any little metal bits that they shouldn't.
"I think you'll be fine structurally. Those pylons you put in are beyond what the code would ask for, and the mayor already agreed to give you a waiver for the building height and for not leaving enough clearance in the driveway."
I shrugged. I hadn't wanted the thing to fall over during the next big storm
"I can already see some problems they'll want to address," he said. "Your handrails on the stairs need to begin and end in the wall. The reason they do that is because if you have it open the way you do, purse straps and sleeves can get caught on it and cause a fall. There's been cases where firefighters went running up stairs and got fire hoses caught, pulling them down.""
I frowned. I could vaguely see why that would be a rule, although it seemed unlikely to be a problem in our house.
"You need carbon monoxide detectors and smoke alarms and they need to be properly placed. I've heard you like to tinker, and tinkers tend to have explosions so it's a good idea. Also, I've seen your dad try to cook, and I think you probably need twice as many as is required."
"Hey!" I heard Dad call out from the other room.
"Smoke alarms are how we know dinner's done, right?" I asked, grinning.
He laughed. I'd seen Big Mike at family barbecues before everything had gone to hell after my mother's death. It was actually good to see him again.
"The doors and windows can't require a key to exit," he said. "I don't know exactly know what you've done with those front doors
"The big main doors aren't meant to be easy to open," I said. "There's smaller side doors that can be opened easily."
He looked at me skeptically.
"You may be able to blow a hole in any wall, but your Dad can't," he said. "If the other doors get blocked how will he get out?"
I scowled. I had a feeling that this was going to be a longer process than I thought.
Floating silently, I dropped down to the floor of the warehouse. There were cameras covering all the doorways and I could detect traps that would undoubtedly slow most intruders down. I could have tried to deactivate them, but you never knew what tricks tinkers had up their sleeves.
It was easier simply to remove part of the metal roof, slip inside and replace it.
The benefit of my flight ability was that it was utterly silent. I moved quietly over the floor through the darkness. The only source of light was a big screen television which was currently split into two screens.
I could see piles of clothes on furniture, with pizza boxes and chines food cartons on the table. It looked like neither of the men who lived here knew how to clean, or at least that neither of them cared about cleaning.
"We really need to edit that last part out, dude," I heard a voice say. "You remember how much flak we got for that Grand theft Auto thing."
"Yeah, I'm tired of arguing about it." the other voice said tiredly. "I just want to get this done and over with."
Two men were sitting on the couch. One was typing furiously away at a laptop while the other had an ice pack on his head.
"You shouldn't have had so much Jaegar last night," the first man said. "We've got to pay the bills."
"I could help you with that," I said, leaning over the couch.
The man with the ice pack flipped over the couch, landing in a defensive crouch. The other man simply turned his head and stared up at me.
Neither of them had masks.
"Dude! Not cool!" the man on the couch said. "You don't break into Capes houses and unmask them! What if we'd been naked or something."
"I'd have told you to put clothes on," I said dryly. "Do you spend a lot of time naked together?"
The two men glanced at each other for a moment, then shook their heads.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" the man who was standing demanded. "If you don't start talking I'll be forced to defend myself."
"I'm Taylor Hebert," I said.
The color drained from both men's faces.
"Are you here to kill us?" the man on the couch asked.
"What? No! Why?"
"We didn't really mean that You Tube video we put up, or all those memes we made, or the jokes or that thing where we shipped you with Shadow Stalker."
"What?!" I couldn't help but stare at the man on the couch. Was he an idiot?
"Or shipping you with Glory Girl, Panacea, Clockblocker and Armsmaster. Or saying that your favorite kind of music is heavy metal."
Maybe I should have been checking the PHO.
"Armsmaster? I'm a minor you twit!" I said.
"Or saying that your favorite sport is Squash," he continued.
I felt a headache coming on. "Maybe you'd better stop talking right now. I'd appreciate it if you would stop doing things like that, but that's not why I'm here."
"Why are you here?" the man standing asked.
"To ask you to build me a poison detector, or if you've already build one to let me use your lab."
The man on the couch sprang up suddenly. "A job? Why didn't you say so? That's something I haven't built yet. What's the pay?"
"I could not squish your heads like a grape for all the things you just told me," I said.
"Don't be like that!" the guy who couldn't stop talking said. "We've got expenses too. Parts, materials... wait, you're a Tinker too? That is such bullsh... unfair."
"Have you built one?" I asked.
"Yeah," the man who I decided was Leet said. "Early on."
I grimaced. I'd have preferred to leave this to them, but Leet's problem with devices exploding was well known.
"Take me to your lab then."
"You can't come here and just demand to use my lab!" he protested.
"Technically you two are villains. I could just drag you both to the PRT and then come back and use your lab, or I could just do what I'm here for and leave."
He froze and seemed to think for a moment. "Right. It's off to the lab then."
The lab was apparently in a basement area under the warehouse, a space that had apparently been created through the use of tinkertech since the walls looked like they'd been melted organically. The space was much larger than the warehouse up top, and I had to admire the setup.
"So what do you want to do?" he asked. "I can..."
Leet had materials stored in bins, and after a couple of minutes I was ready to begin work. My grandfather was already flashing instructions into my mind. I began levitating pieces, thankful that Leet kept his laboratory much better organized than his living space up above.
I was levitating multiple pieces at the same time, putting pieces together and using my power to weld pieces together. Leet was standing beside me, staring opened mouthed.
In all it took less than five minutes, in part because I re-purposed some of Leet's equipment that my grandfather assured me was commercially available and not some monstrosity that Leet had created that was likely to explode in my pocket.
The final product was pocket sized, but I would have to remember to use it every time I ate. Even once would be enough to get me poisoned.
"Damn... " Leet whistled. "That's not even tinkertech. I think anybody could replicate it given the plans. You can make tech that is replicable?"
I shrugged.
"I don't suppose you need a lab assistant."
I looked at him, surprised. "I thought you were dedicated to villainy, or You Tube or something."
"You could probably use some documentarians," he said, glancing back at his partner. "After all, the only thing most people know about you is the thing with the boat and the fact that you murdered a whole bunch of Nazis."
"I only killed a few of them," I said defensively. "I'm trying to be better about it."
"That's why you need a public relations department!" he said enthusiastically. "The other gangs have had people talking them up for years and a lot of people have followed them."
"I don't have a gang," I said automatically.
"And what do you think you are going to accomplish without one?" he asked. "You can't be everywhere, and that's going to limit your ability to accomplish your goals."
I stared at him. He'd been an idiot upstairs, but he was sounding a lot smarter now that he was in the lab. Was it part of his powers, or was he just situationally an idiot?
"Why would I want you guys?" I asked. "It's not like you guys have the best reputation. Wouldn't hooking up with you hurt my brand, or whatever you call it?"
He winced. "That's kind of cold."
Uber stepped forward. "The nice thing about being a cape with a secret identity is that you can change that identity whenever you need to. We've done undercover work for other capes before, and we've never been caught."
"Like who?" I asked.
If they were as stupid as they'd seen they'd blab, which would show I couldn't trust them with my secrets.
He shook his head and smiled. "Part of the deal is that we don't talk. We play clowns because that's what gets us clicks on the internet. We're really a lot more competent than we seen."
I looked at them both skeptically. I could believe that Uber was competent. He gave off that kind of vibe. A rumble of agreement from my grandfather confirmed that feeling.
It was Leet that I was worried more about.
"I don't have any money," I said. "I may have some soon, but it's not like I can afford you."
"You haven't tried pulling gold from the ocean?" Leet asked.
"That's just a dream," Uber said immediately. "Like, a thirteenth billion parts of gold per liter of seawater. She'd have to go through water a quarter mile on each side and a hundred feet deep to get one gram of gold."
"She's strong enough to do it," Leet argued. "Not counting rare earths, which are probably easier and more profitable now that I come to think about it."
"Or she could just sell some of those designs she has in her head, the ones that people can put together without a tinker to help them," Uber said firmly. "That would be a lot easier."
"It takes time to get a patent and to sell people on the ideas," Leet said. "By the time you go through lawyers and everything it could take months. Kind of like her lawsuit against the protectorate."
"How did you know about that?" I asked.
My lawyer had told me that the lawsuit would probably take months unless the PRT decided to settle suddenly and so I hadn't been worried about it. It had never really been about the money anyway; it had been more about spitting in the eye of the Protectorate, and making it politically difficult for them to attack me, either in the media or in person.
"Who doesn't?" Leet snorted. "It's on the Internet."
"And does the Internet know the details?" I asked.
"A lot of speculation," he said. "Something about bullying maybe... it's pretty vague. Most of the information everyone has comes from Void Cowboy, but he's pretty unreliable so everybody takes it with a grain of salt."
Greg.
I scowled. He'd tried to get me to look at some of his posts, and I'd found them either inane or offensive. He was like these guys without the sense of self preservation.
"What else do you know?" I asked.
"The splinter factions of the Empire consider you Enemy number one. They think you are some kind of Jewish Hell Queen out to kill them all, and so several of the larger groups have offered bounties on your head. They're calling Capes in from out of town to take you down."
"Wow," I said. "Thanks for the warning."
"It's on the Internet," he said. "I'd have figured that you'd know almost as soon as I did."
"I don't spend all my time on the PHO," I said. "I'm too busy with other things."
"Like building a full scale Iron Throne right in the middle of your living room?" Leet asked. He looked overly enthusiastic.
"How did you know that?" I asked.
"One of your neighbors talked about it when he was complaining about your new Fortress of Doom," Leet said. "He didn't know what it was, but he described it well enough that anybody who knows anything would know what it was."
"Did you offer to work for me just so you could look at my throne?" I asked suspiciously.
Leet shrugged nonchalantly. "We take jobs all the time. Thinking we have ulterior motives is just a sign of paranoia."
I sighed. Part of me thought hiring these clowns was going to be a mistake. Another part of me thought that I might have a use for them.
Dinah had said that I formed a group, and having one twelve year old girl wasn't exactly the definition of a team.
"If you work for me, I'm the boss," I said. "And it's important that no one knows who you are. The last thing I need to be known for is working with villains."
"Like Bitch?" Leet asked.
I ignored him.
"I'm not sure I trust you guys to do propaganda," I said. "Although having you work as cameramen might not be the worst things. You could disguise your cameras, and people would think I was lifting them magnetically."
"You'll need some cash flow before you hire a real PR guy," Leet said. "Which is where the whole gold from the oceans thing comes in. There's two thousand times as much uranium in seawater as there is gold."
"I'm not mining uranium," I said firmly. Even though Scion had gotten rid of the nuclear weapons that didn't mean that people had forgotten how to make them.
Uber punched Leet in the shoulder. "Are you trying to get a kill order on all of us?"
"Magnesium then," he said. "A cubic kilometer of seawater contains a million tons of magnesium."
"Is it worth much?" I asked.
"About three thousand dollars a ton," he said.
I stared at him. So he was saying I could pull three billion dollars of metal from the ocean?
"The whole market is like seven million tons a year, so if you tried to sell that much you'd completely crash the market. Still, you should have no problems making money."
"Why'd you start with all that crap with the gold," Uber asked under his breath to Leet.
"Because it's gold!" Leet said. "From the ocean! That's way cooler than Manganese."
I was starting to see why these guys hadn't been particularly successful as villains. I realized that I was going to have to talk to my lawyer to see if he knew anything about mineral rights and who to sell the materials to.