My climbing skill was improving by leaps and bounds. In a couple of days I'd leveled it up to fifty percent, and it really was taking me half the time to get up the wall that it had when I was started.

I could get up other buildings too; as long as there were reasonable handholds, I could scale walls that only three days ago would have been simply impassible.

My running speed was at fifty percent too. I could jog an easy ten miles an hour, and my distance kept expanding before I became fatigued.

Jogging at my old top speed only felt like a moderate strain. I could probably break twenty five miles an hour while sprinting, although I certainly couldn't maintain that for much longer than a normal person.

I'd been jogging around town, getting the lay of the land. There were a half dozen Empire hotspots that I'd identified through the texts on their phones.

It included two restaurants, a massage parlor, and a warehouse that served as a dogfighting arena. There were a couple of other addresses I wasn't sure about; it wasn't like they were texting each other the addresses or anything.

So far the police didn't seem to be looking for me; that didn't actually mean much considering that they'd hardly be issuing a manhunt based on a couple of pools of blood.

I carefully avoided the police as much as I could, and I used the skills I'd learned in the books to hide in the crowds when I couldn't.

I was getting better at hiding my face when people who I didn't want to see me came close, and to doing so without looking suspicious.

I'd climbed on top of a few roofs, and I'd observed the people going in and out of the dog fighting ring and the restaurants. I'd seen a few of the same people going in and out of multiple places; unfortunately my power didn't increase my visual acuity no matter how hard I stared at things.

I'd tried staring at things in the distance for an hour with no popup screens. I'd also tried staring at small things to no better effect.

I had gained +2 strength; I'd started with an 8 and now I was up to a 10. Given my other stats, I suspected that a 10 was what an average person started with. As a teen-aged girl with no particular penchant for exercise I'd been flabby.

It was making a difference in the weight I could lift, too. I was now about twenty five percent stronger than I had been before; at this point that only came to an extra twenty pounds or so, but I was encouraged at the gains I might end up making as time went on.

There was only so much I could do, observing people from a distance. Sooner or later someone would catch me at it, and then I'd be in the middle of a battle I might not be ready for.

I had to get closer.

The Empire had hundreds of members. I doubted that anyone would have known me by sight. One of the things that I'd had the foresight to do was to take all of the family pictures; first I'd done it because they were all I had left of my family.

There hadn't been all that many, really. Mom had never been the type to do a lot of photos and Dad hadn't been interested at all after Mom died.

My school yearbook didn't have any pictures of me over the past couple of years either; Emma had made a point of keeping me out of the yearbook as a way of reminding me just what a nonentity I was.

Ultimately, the only people who were likely to know what I looked like were either dead, or my classmates. While it was possible that some of them might have joined the Empire, I suspected that I hadn't made enough of an impression on them for them to remember who I was.

That's why I was taking the risk I was taking now.

"I'm looking for work," I said.

The restaurant manager stared at me. According to the texts I had read, her name was Gina and she was also the owner of the place. A lot of her clientele were Empire members.

"You don't look sixteen," she said.

"I'm fifteen," I admitted. If I said I was sixteen she'd ask for ID. "But you can work in this state as young as fourteen."

She frowned, looking at me critically. I knew I didn't make the best impression. I was wearing a hoodie- not the blood stained one, of course, but still, hardly like I was going to make the best impression.

I looked like a homeless kid.

According to the texts, Gina had a soft spot for homeless white kids. She kept pulling them up out of the gutters. Some of the Empire guys had made fun of her for being a soft touch.

"We've lost a few people," she said after a minute. "They went on to other lines of work."

They'd joined the gang. I knew that, and I knew that they needed help. That was why I'd selected them over the other restaurant. Also, the other restaurant was a lot higher class and likely wouldn't have to hire a fifteen year old.

She probably wouldn't have her work difficulties if her restaurant wasn't in Empire territory and if she could hire minorities. Unfortunately, even if she wasn't prejudiced, hiring minorities was out of the question when most of her clientele was Empire.

They'd been known to burn down businesses where the wrong kind of people were employed.

"I could only hire you for limited hours," she said. "Labor laws are pretty clear about that. And I couldn't let you work as a cook either or anything around the fryer. That's the law."

"I'm not looking for anything much," I said. "I'd be happy to bus tables."

I'd prefer to bus tables; it'd give me a chance to listen in on conversations in the restaurant.

"You'd have to dress better than that," she said. She looked at me and sniffed. "And I'm guessing you don't want your parents to know. Money under the table."

"Dad drinks," I said. "If he knew I had money..."

"No records," she said finally. "You'd have to just trust me to keep track of your pay."

"When would I work?"

"Three thirty to seven," she said. "You look too young to keep you on after that; I don't want any trouble with the law."

"Wouldn't have thought that would be an issue around here?" I asked. "I thought we were in the territory."

"Keep your mouth shut about that," she said firmly. "And about anything else you hear around here. Blabbing is a good way to get yourself killed."

I raised my hands.

"I've got no problem with guys who are just trying to protect their own," I said. "Sisters have to stick together, right?"

"You work weekdays," she said. "If you do a good job, I might move you up to Friday and Saturday nights if you do a good job."

"Any perks?" I asked.

"Leftover food at the end of the night," she said. "But I get to look through it before you either take it or throw it out. One free meal every eight hours. That's every couple of days for you."

I nodded.

From what the Nazis said on their phones, the food here was pretty good. The owner was also a member of the Empire, and a lot of their clientele was members too.

"What do I call you?" she asked.

"Emma," I said. "Emma Hess."

"Hess," she mused. "That's a good, strong German name."

I'd picked the two worst people I knew to name myself. The fact that one of them was a black girl with a German name was ironic in a way that didn't escape me.

Hearing Emma's name would keep me from getting too comfortable here.

Hopefully I'd be able to listen in on conversations, see faces, and maybe even follow some people home.

"I don't exactly have a bank account or ID," I said.

"I can pay cash," she said. "Just don't expect any payroll taxes taken out."

"I don't believe in taxes." I said.

"Well, the government does," she said. "And so you'd better keep your mouth shut about that. I'm taking pity on you, giving you this job. If I see you stealing, or making eyes at the waiters, or being lazy, you'll be out on your ear."

"Yes ma'am," I said.

"You're going to have to stay clean," she said. "Nobody wants dirty hair in their food. You'll have to wear a ponytail, and you'll have to wear a uniform. I'll give you the money to get one, and I'll send you to the place we get all of our uniforms made."

I nodded.

"Don't wear perfume," she said. "People like to be able to smell their food."

"I don't wear perfume anyway," I said.

"Well, don't start," she said. "This first week is just probationary. Since I'm paying you under the table, that means there's no records you ever worked here. There's no unemployment insurance, and no sick days."

Working sick probably wasn't good for the customers, but I didn't say anything. I wasn't even sure I could get sick.

It'd be easy enough to pay a homeless guy to buy me some booze and then see if it affected me. Would Gamer's mind keep me clear even if I was drunk? Could I get drunk?

Of course, my luck was that the minute I got drunk the Empire would track me down. Or I'd get suicidally brave and do something stupid like attack Lung.

She handed me some money.

I stared at her.

"This is a test," she said. "Show up tomorrow in a uniform, and I'll start thinking you might be a halfway honest person."

"And if I don't?" I asked.

"Then it's cheap to find out now instead of later when I find you with your hand in the till. I'd suggest not doing that, though; I've got friends that you probably wouldn't want to meet."

Right; this restaurant was an Empire front.

Probably shouldn't have been a surprise given the name of the restaurant. White's?

There was a business card mixed in with the bills. It had the address of the uniform store.

I left and went directly there; it wasn't hard to find for all that it was in an off street.

"Uniforms Inc," I muttered. Could they have chosen a blander name?

I opened the door, and I saw a lanky blonde haired man standing by a rack of uniforms.

"Uh, Gina sent me," I said.

He looked at the wadded bills in my hand, and he smiled.

"Another one of her charity cases, I suppose," he said. "For a moment, dressed like you are and with the look on your face, I thought you were someone needing other kind of outfits."

What did he mean by that?

Was it a sex thing?

I didn't get that vibe from him at all. If anything, he seemed a little effeminate.

What other kind of...

"Do you sell capes?" I asked.

"We may have done a uniform here or there that were custom jobs," he said. "Not for the Protectorate, of course. They have their own people in-house, even though we could do a better job at half the price."

"How much does a costume cost?" I asked, curious.

"We can be reasonably priced for the right kind of people," he said. "It's a great deal more for design work. Are you in the market for... capes?"

I shook my head.

"No... I was just curious. I wouldn't think that capes could afford that kind of service, not all of them."

"We aren't the only ones," he said. "Parian offers similar services, although her costumes tend not to wear as well as ours. But to answer your question, costs are usually covered by their organization, Loners have to make do with scraps."

I was in the prime age bracket for new capes; teenagers tended to be highly emotional, and in the Bay they tended to get into the kinds of situations leading to trigger events more than most.

Had Gina sent me here as a way of seeing if I was a Cape? Was this guy a thinker?

If he was, then I'd be an idiot to let him send word to Kaiser about what I was. On the other hand, it was possible that he was just a business owner trying to drum up business.

"Why mention it to me at all?"

"You look like the type," he said. "And if you should get work with an organization, you'll need a uniform. We provide all kinds of uniforms."

"Well, if I suddenly discover myself with superpowers and a boatload of cash, I'll keep you in mind."

"There are discounts for the right kind of people," he said lightly.

"You serve the wrong kind of people?" I asked.

He smiled slightly.

"Most of them do not choose to come through our door," he said. "Those that do find our prices to be... difficult."

I nodded as though I understood.

"Let's get you three uniforms," he said. "Although it's called Whites, the uniforms are a dark blue. She tried white uniforms, but they tended to show stains too much, even with everything we could do."

"I'd imagine that keeping blood from staining...specialty costumes would be in high demand."

"It can be done," he admitted, "But not at the price Gina is willing to pay."

I nodded.

I wondered what cloth they used; I didn't have the budget to keep replacing hoodies, and I'd only brought so many of them with me.

"Let's get you dressed," he said.

"Why did you think I might want a specialty outfit?"

"You are a young girl in the Bay," he said. "And you walk around with no sign of fear. Everybody is afraid here, except the Capes."

"I'm armed," I admitted. "And I know how to take care of myself. I'm no Cape, though."

Capes were the people who dressed up in silly costumes and followed rules. I wasn't a cape, even if I had powers.

He nodded, although I wasn't sure he believed me.

How close was he with the Empire, and did I need to worry about his spilling the beans? Was I really obvious, and would the other capes automatically know what I was, or was this guy just really perceptive?

I pushed observe while he was turned toward a set of racks.

JEAN CLAUDE MARCEAUX

Level 23

TAILOR AND FASHIONISTA.

What the fuck?

Most of the thugs I'd seen were levels four to six at best; run of the mill thugs were closer to level three. Assuming that the whole world wasn't just a video game, then my power associated threat and combat skill with levels.

This guy would likely wipe the floor with me; that meant that he was lying about my look. He probably saw something about how I moved that suggested some combat training.

That would be weird in a fifteen year old girl, but not in a cape.

"So you have close ties with organizations here?"

"I choose to follow the unwritten rules," he said without turning around. "I would not unmask a cape. My job is the opposite, after all. So please put the knife away."

I looked down, and I saw that I had a knife in my hand. I hadn't even been aware of summoning it. Had I been planning to murder him unconsciously?

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm a little on edge."

"It's perfectly all right," he said. "I'm a little like Gina. I'm a soft touch for hard luck cases. If you ever need a special kind of uniform, please feel free to give me a call."

"People with friends have a hard time keeping secrets," I said.

"Even an unpowered person can burn a shop down, if they are angry enough. A powered person can do far worse," he said. "I do not make it my business to get involved in Cape activities. My only concern is that the uniform I create for them serves admirably and well."

"I'm not a cape," I said. "But I'm a little worried about people talking about me. My dad drinks, and we've had enough people gossiping about us for a lifetime."

"Feel free to return," he said. "It's always good to see a defender of what's right."

Did he mean what was white?

"Here," he said.

He hadn't even measured me, but I stepped into a changing room, and I found that if fit like a glove.

It felt weirdly good.

Whatever else he was, he was a damn good clothier.

"I'd get a shower before going to work tomorrow," he said. "Gina is a stickler for cleanliness."

I nodded.

He gave me two other uniforms, identical to the one I was wearing.

"She'll expect you to have these laundered between uses, and pressed. You can do it yourself, or I can give you the addresses of some cleaners."

"I'll figure something out."

As I left, I wondered whether my idea to spy on the Empire was going to fall on its face the moment a cape came in.

Still, it was my best chance to get close to them. I'd make sure to have all my guns loaded in my inventory, and I'd have an escape plan worked out to get out if I should be attacked.

With luck, I'd be able to use the job as a way of identifying targets. By the time they figured out the common denominator, I'd be long gone.

Or at least that's what would happen in an ideal world.