Jul 8, 2018

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#1

I haven't written anything before and would really appreciate feedback.

I also wrote this long past my bedtime.

See "version 1" here for the CYOA rules

Self insertion

- Doesn't have proper memories of Worm story and Scion etc. But has basic story-sense and plot-vision.

- April 8th 2011 (ish - I'm going to get a few days' run up)

- $100

Powers: Inspired Inventor

- Five charges to place into Tinker aspects each day

- One charge said to be Tinker-4, each charge +2 more

- How it works in this fic: five charges to spend on one-to-five specialities, that reset daily.

Friends: Mark (superhuman skill at combat), Violet (silent and "avoid detection" thinker). CYOA Pics here

Perks

Blank - blocks precog

Inspiration - rally minions

First Impressoin - +10 personality

Cloak and Dagger - skilled at building intelligence networks

Manpower - more minions

Complications

Everything Gets Worse - on the tin

Marked - Brockton faction/s hate you

Leviathan - he's coming for you

Afterwards I would describe it like "slowly waking up on Sunday morning" or "remembering yourself and coming down off drugs", but at the time I thought it was a hangover. Consciousness was trickling back to me and with it an ache through the back of my head.

It took a few moments to realise I was hearing car horns blaring, and then a few more to notice that I was lying on my back on hard ground. As feeling returned, my side felt scorched, and I realised I was being shaken by a figure kneeling over me.

"Are you OK, man? We can't stop. Did he knock you out? V, help me get him ..."

I was hauled to my feet and blinked at the sight greeting me. Burning cars, a street on fire, glowing cars being thrown into the air. I coughed.

"You landed on your head. Lung's getting amped, man, can you walk?" An earnest stare from the man holding me by the left arm. I turned my head. Holding my other arm, the robed figure looked like a mummy, and I started to chuckle, before feeling an inkling that I knew these two. The minimal eye cover hardly hid - "Mark?"

"Yeah, but ... we really can't talk, dude, can you walk?"

An explosion sent a wave of heat over us and I nodded, taking a few steps away from the fires, before we all broke into a run. For the first few minutes we saw fire to one side, and thick black fog to the other, and ran to stay ahead of the wall of chaos.

After a few more blocks, I was out of breath, and having left the sounds of destruction and sirens behind us we took a breather behind a wall. Around us were warehouses and factories, but we had run downhill towards the shore. From our resting point between two warehouses, I could see the sweeping bay, and lights reflecting on the water from the other shore. As I took deep breaths, with my hands on my hips, I tried to catch up mentally but kept stumbling.

"What is this place?"

"Yeah, you got your head bumped back there, dude."

"But where are we? I mean ..." I gestured to the water, "what city?"

Mark gave me a worried look. His partner, who instinct told me was his twin sister Violet, was unreadable, her head covered with a cloth that from this angle, I conceded, looked more ninja than mummy. "Why are you guys dressed like that?"

"It's Brockton Bay, alright, man? We're capes, and it's complicated but - " he ran a hand over his chin and looked at Violet.

She finished the thought, "We're not going to hurt you. Sorry about back there, we didn't know there were civilians around. And, erm ... I think you're a cape now. When Lung went crazy and started throwing cars, you got hit with some scrap and had a trigger event. It makes other capes go down, so Lung hit the floor just after you did. That's how the Undersiders got away."

"Thanks for that, by the way," Mark added.

I gave him a good look. That's Mark, my instincts said, but I couldn't seem to place where I knew him from. "How do we know each other, again?" I hoped the question wouldn't be too offensive - he did just say I hit my head, after all.

"I don't know man ..." he gave me another good stare, "school? And you shouldn't call me Mark when I'm in costume. I'm Highwayman, OK?"

I was feeling woozy again - the situation felt too ridiculous - his and Violet's strange get-up, his insistence that they not break character, and the scene of a burning street with glowing cars shooting across the sky...

"What's a cape?"

The next time I came to, I was lying on a soft bed as evening sunlight filtered through slats. My head still hurt, but I felt far more mentally present than on the dreamlike street earlier.

I didn't recognise the bedroom, and I felt a growing frustration at my inability to remember who I was or what was going on. I thought back to my awakening on the burning road, and had a feeling like it was coming out of a long dream. Memories of the dream were too strange to rationalise. Something about a choice between powers, between pros and cons, but the details escaped me.

Too annoying to dwell on - so I arose and looked around the strange room. The walls were bare brick and the floor stained wood, it felt like a converted industrial building. Seeing a sliding door in the corner, I started limping over, feeling the headache with every step.

My eyes were still adjusting to the bright living room before I noticed Violet, sat at a wide table in the corner, giving me a worried look. "Hey, sleepy. We thought we'd let you sleep it off, Tattletale said you probably weren't concussed and just needed rest. Do you remember what happened?"

I took a few steps over and sat at the table, taking the seat opposite. They were plastic, and seemed like cheap garden furniture. "Hey, Violet. I don't know, not really. I remember getting hit on the head, then we had to run from the fire, then I woke up here, basically ..." I gestured at the room "which is where?"

"This is our hideout, mine and, ... er, Mark. We bought you here after you collapsed. Look ... I should call him back, he's only downstairs buying food. Do you want a coffee?"

I nodded and she stood to make it, typing on her phone. In the few moments silence, I tenderly felt around the back of my head, feeling the large gash.

"We washed it, it shouldn't need stiches. It will bruise though," Violet mentioned from the kitchenette behind me.

I nodded and carried on checking out my hands, my arms, my legs - everything felt like me, but I just couldn't place who I was - how had I gotten to the burning road? More confusion and frustration as nothing came to me, just the memories of a dream to complex to work with.

As the coffee mug was placed before me, Mark entered the apartment, dropping his bags and coming over.

"Hey man, good to see you awake. You had us worried back there. Feeling alright?"

I nodded and took a good look at him. Mark, the voice spoke.

"How did you guys find me there?" I asked.

"Well, it's kind of a long story ... " he glanced at his twin who shook her head to indicate, no, she hadn't told me the story yet. "Well, as you can tell, we're capes, and we're not really Heroes. Yeah, we're Highwayman and Butterfly." He looked me in the eye, as if checking I wasn't about to jump him, and continued, "We teamed up with the Undersiders last night, on a trial job to hit an ABB casino. We got out, but Lung arrived and wasn't pleased ... after he started fighting the Undersiders, you were heading down Argyle Street at the wrong time and took a chunk of rubble to the head. So it's our fault in a way. And here's the thing man, after you went down we all - the Undersiders and us - went down too, but Lung was closer so had it worst. You triggered man, you're a cape too now, but we all got away, and we got you away too. I don't know if you can remember when you came to during the fight, and we ran away a bit before you fainted again. Then we hauled you here. That was early this morning, you've slept most of the day."

As he explained, a few pieces started falling into place. A cape - a parahuman, someone with powers. He mentioned the Undersiders - I knew, on the same instinct that recognised Mark and Violet, that the Undersiders were the gang with Tattletale and Regent and so on - actually, Violet had mentioned Tattletale ealier, and I now recalled the Thinker with super deduction powers.

After a few deep breaths, Mark's explanation began making more sense, and I felt slightly less confused and frustrated than earlier. "OK, so I have powers now, " I stretched my fingers as if expecting to grow metal claws, "do I have glowing eyes or anything?"

They both studied me closely. Violet answered seriously, "nothing I can see." They were both so earnest I almost chuckled.

"Maybe it's a mind-whammy then," scrunching my eyes to focus on the mental landscape, cratered though it was.

Must be a power in here somewhere, I thought comically, wondering what I looked like from the outside. A quick peek showed both Mark and Violet still transfixed, with the earnest looks. Poking around, flexing various mostly-imaginary psychic muscles, I realised a part of me I had been aware of all along had a relaxed but strong feeling of great potential. I tried mentally pushing at it, and received a feeling in return that I could do anything, as long as I could focus on it ...

I tried focusing on the table infront of me, the tatty plastic tabletop, and in a few moments could envisage in perfect details the chemical bonds holding the carbon strings together, and how to rearrange them to a more reactive plastic which in turn could ... I couldn't quite put my finger on it, the complexity felt like the memories of my dream, and I pushed the psychic muscle further. Now I could see it, rearrange this and that molecule for an ultra-solid armor plate, or that way and this way for a superconductor.

Fifteen minutes later, having scoped the basics of my five-charge power, I remembered where I was, and announced to the long arisen super pair - "Tinker! I'm a tinker!"

Mark came back from where he'd been watching TV behind me and sat down. "Hey that's great man, everyone loves a tinker. Look, I know you recognise me, and I do remember you from somewhere - school maybe - but, what's your name again?"

An awkward question. I tried a few mentally. David? Doesn't feel right. Bruce? Nope. James? Something there, some stirring of memory, even if only psychosomatic. "James."

"Alright, well, glad to have you with us, James, dude. So, this is our hideout, we move around a bit but we've been in Brockton for a while now. That spare room is yours for as long as you want it. Er - I know it's early days, but, ... " he broke off.

Violet surprised me by leaning in. "Look, you'll need to team up with someone, y'know? There's always the Wards. And you'll need a cape name, you can't go by James. Not that we're pressuring you or anything, actually I'd understand if you were annoyed with us, given that you were basically a bystander to a burglary we were committing." She looked embarassed. "And about that - " sharing a look with her brother, who was equally helpless " - can you be a bit, you know, discreet?"

I would say, at this point, with all the recent confusion, that my thoughts were mostly in disorder, but I knew enough to trust the instinct that recognised this pair of villains as friendlies. "Is it OK if I go crash for a bit?"

With nods from Mark and Violet, I went back to a deep and confusing sleep.

DAY TWO

It was morning again, judging by the weak light through the unfamiliar slats.

I climbed out of bed and felt refreshed from the long rest, and rubbing my eyes, realised I only had yesterday's clothes to wear. After changing I headed into the living room for breakfast, and noticed the twins weren't up yet.

On the table was the laptop Violet had been using yesterday. Forgetting about breakfast, I slid it over the table and lifted the lid. Code, I thought, all sorts of coding. Like, assembly code or whatever. And CS too. Three times I applied my power to coding, and twice to computer sciences, and before the laptop had finished booting I had some applications in mind ...

Nearly an hour later, Mark woke up and emerged, which stirred me from the important work I had been doing. With a touch of annoyance and subsequent guilt I called "morning" to which he sleepily replied.

"James is coding. Are you a computer tinker, James?"

I nearly jumped at seeing Violet already sat on the sofa, halfway into a bowl of cereal, before remebering that her power made her silent when she didn't specifically want to be heard.

"Ah! Wow. No, not a computer tinker, but I can apply myself to computers somewhat." I spun the screen round, and they squinted at the scrolling white-on-black lines of code.

"What is it?" Mark asked.

I checked the screen, to see if it was still showing what I thought it was, then turned back to Mark - before realising that the code probably meant nothing to him. "Oh sorry! There, I'll ramp my power down ... it's making an operating system. Like, the best one ever. It'll have full compatability of, ... oh, I can't remember now." As my power 'forgot' coding and CS. "Full compatability across like, every device and it can do all the internet stuff."

"Will my laptop still work?!"

"Er ... " I frowned at the machine. Would it still boot Windows? Having no idea, I ramped the powers up to one-one.

"Yeah, actually the OS is currently cloud-side, I hardly touched the laptop." Oh right. Man, it's hard to remember things that happened during tinker-fugue. "And it's a kernel, not an OS. And it's not ready yet. Sorry guys, tinkering is new to me."

I set the laptop back to desktop and spun it back to face Violet. "So, er, I still don't really remember much, and I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. Is it OK if I hang out with you guys today?"

They glanced at each other and Mark replied, "Yeah, but we have to meet the Undersiders this morning about the casino job, and we need to see about another job this afternoon. You can stay here, or come, if you want?"

They both looked expectantly at me. "I'll come, I should come. I want to meet the Undersiders."

Finding five $20s in my pocket, I ask the twins to take us to the nearest deli before we head towards the Undersiders' hideout. Carrying out enough breakfast for both teams, we bus across the city, and I spend my time typing into Mark's phone. Testing had shown that I couldn't put powers into anything but assembly code and computer science until tomorrow, so I spent the downtime during travel expanding the algorithm code base. I intended to make an external computer that could serve me during days spent on other specialities - the exact details of which I could only explain while under tinker-effects: an ultra-secured operating platform, using commercial hosting for now, but with vast offensive and obscuring netsec capabilities.

I would have missed the stop if Violet hadn't shaken my shoulder.

The Undersiders' neighborhood was similar to our own, and I suspected much of this part of Brockton. The inner-city population had expanded into abandoned industrial estates, with some pretty factory conversion apartments and some run-down abandoned shacks. This area was more the shacks.

A group of street dwellers eyed us in passing, but guided by Violet's "nearly there now" we strode past with purpose. A few blocks down, we stopped outside a completely non-descript factory. Mark rapped the iron door and I heard barking. It was rattlingly drawn back by a shrewd looking blond, who looked me over pointedly and jabbed, "You picked up the stray, I see. And no, we hadn't eaten yet, much appreciated." She took the bags from me and led the way upstairs. Crossing indoors, I exchanged brief nods with the tall black figure wresting the door closed behind us. He chained it and followed us upstairs.

Tattletale was plating food around a (much larger and nicer than our own) wooden table, at which sat a heavyset girl surrounded by three dogs, whom I presumed to be Bitch. No idea how I knew that, but yeah - dogs, Undersiders, that's Bitch.

A boy with curly hair snatched a plate and walked off to the side, returning to a video game.

Saying little more than basic greetings, we sat down to eat. Tattletale ate her bagel with relish, and wiped egg from her lip before speaking.

"So yeah, yesterday was a bit of a shit show. If it means anything, our boss sends his regrets and apologies. He planned for Lung to not be there, but says he was blocked somehow." She frowned a little before turning to me, "And we owe you too, your trigger event knocked Lung out long enough for us all to get away. We got to keep most of the stash, I'll get it to you guys when it's cleaned in a few days," she said gesturing at Mark and Violet.

"So I guess, out of costume, you don't know us," pointing around the room, "Lisa, Brian, Rachel, and that's Alec."

"Yo!" came from over by the TV.

"James," I replied.

"I think you're a Master? No ... you don't seem like you got Thinker, but maybe ... Striker perhaps?" Lisa, Tattletale, was eyeing me closely. I recognised the technique as cold reading, and mentally awarded her a few points.

"I'm a Tinker, actually."

"Hmm ..."

"What?"

"You don't seem like other Tinkers. Not that I've met many, but they all seemed hyper-focused."

"I can turn it off a bit, I suppose."

Rachel was feeding scraps to her dogs, mostly oblivious to the conversation. Brian stirred from his breakfast and glanced across at Mark. "So, yesterday, Lung was pretty pissed off, he was already growing scales when we left. He's going to be after us, both teams." Then Brian looked at me, "Are you teaming up with Highwayman and Butterfly?"

I looked at Mark and Violet and nodded, they nodded back. "Yep."

Tattletale broke in, "you don't remember what - ... you got hit on the head and have amnesia?"

I nodded to her. I wanted to be careful here. One part of me desired the Undersiders on my side, but it's hard to win trust from someone when you admitedly could be anyone from anywhere. "Yeah, it's coming and going." She nodded at my lie. "I went to school with Mark and Violet though, so I know them from there."

More nods from her. "I could tell. When you guys called me for medical advice, I knew you must know James from somewhere. Anyway, we probably need to lie low for a while, get off Lung's radar. Which means not going out in full evening dress."

"We have other jobs in mind. Got to eat," said Mark.

Brian nodded and leaned forward. It seemed like a topic he and Lisa had been waiting to get into. "So about that. Before Lung arrived, everything was going smoothly, and we were impressed with the way you operate. The offer to join forces still stands."

Violet put her hand out, "And we're still free agents, you know? We don't have a boss."

Mark added, "I get that you guys are paid extra for the jobs by the boss, and the money aspect is cool, but we're not really the type to work for someone we don't know."

Lisa glanced at Brian and they shared a look of chagrin. "Look, I didn't want to mention this, but the boss, he says he wants us to hit Lung again, but only if you sign up for cash bonus."

Mark folded his arms and Violet let out a huff.

"Why does he want you to hit Lung another time?" I asked Lisa.

"I have guesses, but he doesn't exactly always explain himself. Look, it's complicated. But if he says we can do it, we should be mostly OK. It's just a question of whether you want the extra stress."

"How exposed are we?" I asked, looking around the table from Brian and Lisa to Mark and Violet. They returned mostly confused looks. "Like, what's the scale of your external operations, your networks, things that Lung can hit before we're ready to look for him?"

Brian coughed meekly. "Er, ... apart from civilian identities, nothing like that."

"Dogs."

We all turned to look at Rachel, who was digging something out of the footpad of a bull dog on his back.

"I have dogs at shelters."

"She does," from Lisa, "at three buildings on northside."

"Show me a map" I said.

The team described to me the general terratories and major playors of Brockton Bay. It sounded like the controlling gang of an area could be determined by the level of horror present: the Empire enforced segregation, ABB pushed opiods and prostitution, and the areas most lost to law and order were claimed by the Merchants. It was no way for a city to live.

Safer areas were those patrolled by Heroes, or Wards, who were mostly dealing with petty crime and not the Parahuman organised crime surrounding the calmer areas.

It was clear to me, that if we were to survive here, we'd need information on the major villans' movements. For that, we needed networks of informants and the capacity to pay them ...

"Lisa, did you send all the casino money to the cleaners? Any rainy day cash left?"

She looked up at me and her eyes narrowed, no doubt trying to guess why I was asking. "I kept a few hundred, from our take, just for the next few days. What are you thinking about buying?"

"On the way here, we saw three homeless people. One had a long beard, the other two looked like a younger couple."

She nodded, "that'll be Sammie with Debs and Pete. They're alright."

"Can you get the cash? I have an idea."

The Undersiders, Highwayman, and Butterfly insisted on costuming up for this kind of operation, which I thought was a bit over the top, and given the Lung threat they required some persuading to go out at all. But finally we emerged, having taken the tunnel exit from the Undersiders' hideout, onto a drainage area behind some factories.

Across the drain area, was a locked site of some sort with two lorries parked behind fencing. They looked to have been there for some time. After Tattletale confirmed the site had no cameras, Highwayman broke the lock and swung the gates to the yard open. The team looked from the vans, to me.

"Brian, you drive that one," I pointed, "with Highwayman and Bitch. I'll drive this one, with Tattletale, Butterfly and Regent."

"It's Grue in costume. And you need to mask up, James." He pointed to my open face.

"It seems a bit silly, really."

"Fine, but what's your cape name? I'm not calling you James."

"Do I really need one?"

"I'm not. I'm not calling you James."

I thought for a moment. It was quite silly - and actually damaging - how the real potential of super powers was diverted into cops-and-robbers and play.

There's certainly a power to names, though. Naming something captures it as an entity. Using and speaking names has side effects. I chose amongst names based on their psychological impact.

"Shadow."

"I don't think you can have that. Besides, it's not very Tinker-y - "

"Let him have his name, Grue," Violet defended.

With a basic CS-tinker charge, I hotwired both lorries and the team piled in, Rachel sitting in the back with her three dogs.

I got behind the wheel and pulled out, Brian in convoy behind me.

Three streets over, I saw Sammie the homeless guy, and pulled over. Winding the window down, I waved a $20 towards Sammie and called "What's the good word, brother?"

Sammie shuffled over to take the money, with a "God bless."

"It's Sammie, right?"

"Sure is."

"You seen any 'bangers, Sammie?" I was holding out another twenty.

He hesitated a second, then caught it. "Asians last night."

So they were already on to the Undersiders, then. "See you tomorrow, Sammie."

"See ya."

A few streets down, I spotted what must be Debs and Pete. I pulled up and hopped out the cab, Brian sliding in behind me but not getting out.

I strode over to where the couple were, beneath an intersection, underneath the sloping roof of an overpass. I had a feeling that I could exude a sort of confidence that would convince the homeless pair.

"How you doing, folks?" I asked, hands on hips, pointedly looking at Debs and Pete and not their detritus.

"Not bad," came the quick response from Pete, "we already spoke to the City person the other day, they said we could - "

I raised a hand, "I'm not here about that. Or anything like that, really." Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the wad of cash Tattletale had provided me and counted out two hundred before them. "Now, maybe in a few hours, maybe in a few days, a load of ABB are gonna come screeching into this area from either the I-48 junction there - " I pointed to the ramp along the bend, "or along Allenby Boulevard - " now pointing to the wide road beneath it, "and I want you to call me if you see them."

They looked at each other. A fairly frazzled-looking pair, unkempt and slightly crazed from street life. Clearly they did not want to get into any business with ABB, but on the other hand, I had a stack of bills.

I held out the two hundred and put the rest away. Pete took it slowly, and almost flinched when I held out paper with one of Tattletale's throwaway numbers written on it. He took that to.

"Look, this is God reaching out to you, friends." I didn't know why I had said that, but it seemed like what they wanted to hear so I continued. "This is heaven reaching down and offering you a life off the streets. I will have plenty of work like this, and I always take care of my people."

The curious looks on Deb and Pete's faces washed away the touch of craze, and clearly I had their attention. Debs said "ABB, I-48 or Allenby, we call you."

"Right. Won't be long, a day or two at most." I turned and started walking back to the trucks.

Next, we head north and pick up the dogs.

I had asked Lisa to drive from their area to Rachel's shelters, and used the 20 minutes or so to log in and check the Tinker project on her phone. The bare bones framework of the code was done, and I needed a second to re-immerse myself.

I had designed, I was realising, a cloud computer that could be fired and forgotten if needed. It's capabilities included suites of cyber attack protocols, but mostly all they were used for was self-integrity, and replicating itself in a disaster.

I used the time driving north to add some basic routines, but I needed real OS capabilities, which meant more time tinkering with code/CS combo. Hopefully I could get it done later today, and move onto a different powerset tomorrow.

Butterfly nudged me from the Tinkering as we approached the first of Rachel's shelters. Lisa had parked a way down the street, and pointed to a different van outside what must have been the shelter. Again we were in an industrial looking area. "We here, but we aren't the only ones."

I looked at the distant van but couldn't see anything out the ordinary. "Let's speak to the others, " Lisa said, climbing out.

We walked around the rear and opened the back. "Rachel, any idea who they would be?" Lisa asked, pointing down the road.

Rachel and the dogs hopped down while Grue and the others climbed down from the second lorry.

"Skinhead bastards! They always take dogs. They make them fight!" We all turned to give the unknown van another look. No obvious Empire signs, but Rachel was fist-clenched stomping over to it anyway, and the dogs in tow were growing in size.

From the back fence of the warehouse Rachel was using as a shelter, a dark figure hopped over and jumped back into the van, which peeled out. "They saw us, " Lisa said. "I don't think they got any dogs from here. Let's move the vans closer."

We had cleared the first and second shelters, and filled one lorry completely, which Lisa, Violet and Rachel were driving back to the Undersiders' area now. Mark, Brian, Alec and I were sheperding the six or so dogs from the final shelter into the back of the other lorry, which was a lot harder without Bitch's presence, and carrying over the cages of a few too weak to move. I wondered where Rachel had found these dogs, and what lengths she was going to, to keep them fed in the shelters, in some of the worst districts of Brockton.

[ I wanted to finish this, and maybe sort out inconsistent formating etc, but decided it's way too late. I also want to take feedback. ]

Last edited: Jul 15, 2018

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 8, 2018

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 8, 2018

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#5

Thanks for the feedback, I edited the Inspired Inventor note above to explain the power: five charges to put into between one and five specialities, and the allocation resets at midnight.

Example, I wake up in the morning with 5 charges, assign two to X-ology, two to Y-ology and one to Z-ology.

I can turn it down, and pull all charges out - and operate as a non-tinker with zero charges assigned. Without charges in X-ology, even my own X-tech is a mystery.

So by lunch, I get bored of X-ology and take my two points back. Maybe I put one into Y-ology and one into Z-, so I have now 3xY and 2xZ.

And if by dinner time I'm back into X-stuff, I can put five charges there with none in Y or Z. But even with unallocated charges, I can't pick some arbitrary N-ology until the day resets. Hope that makes sense.

Should probably call out at this point, that this is not going to be a serious or good wormfic, it's just a new writer playing around. Sorry for mistakes, anything that's unclear or plain bad.

Having moved all the dogs into the lorry from Rachel's third shelter, I watched Regent lazily herd the last Alsation up the ramp, then stepped back to lock the shelter up behind me. Highwayman was riding in the back with the dogs, who were steadily barking. Grue was already sat behind the wheel, and Regent was climbing into the cabin on the passenger side, as I used the key that Rachel had given me to lock the grating over the shelter's doors.

Before I made it back to the sidewalk, a smaller truck came screeching around the corner and sharply braked, blocking the street infront of us. A shirtless, masked man leapt out, and from around the back four heavy guys moved to back their shirtless leader. Hookwolf, my instincts told me.

"Undersiders!"

I could see the back lip of our lorry lift up, as Mark investigated the sound.

"You're on our turf - we'll take the dogs!" He raised his arms in a convocational manner, and they became a rising whirl of spinning hooks and blades which he slammed down into the tarmac infront of our lorry, spraying gravel at the hood.

Highwayman had emerged from the back unseen, and silently lowered the lip behind him. He quickly dropped to the ground, scuttling beneath the back bumper on his elbows and knees and disappearing under the rear axle.

For a moment, I froze, before taking a few steps towards the passenger side, where Regent was already going for the door, pushing it into the still spraying wave of shredded rock. "Regent, stay on him!"

Regent's head spun back towards Hookwolf and I saw him nod. He took a second to position himself, but I saw Hookwolf's arms flinching backwards, towards his men who had to dive out of the way of the spinning hooks.

I jumped to the rung and tore open the passenger door and looked at Grue, who hadn't yet moved but was focused on the Empire men, who I saw, were now ankle deep in black fog pouring out of Grue's window.

"Go, Grue - Regent, just stay on him!"

Grue opened his door and took fast steps towards the mooks. Under Regent's direction, Hookwolf was tumbling and falling too close to his men to go full blade-mode, and Highwayman chose the moment for his strike.

From his perch, hanging from the piping between our truck's front wheels, he dropped and quickly rolled, springing up and into a backflip that bought both knees spinning into the head of the first Empire mook. Before landing, elbows had already clobbered a second. Grue had a third in a choker hold and was positioning his victim between Grue and the swings of the final skinhead henchman. Already black mist covered most of them.

A sweeping kick from Highwayman knocked the skinhead from his feet and onto a still-twitching Hookwolf, who tried to shove the skinhead off him but ended up back-palming his own face. Highwayman seemed to defy gravity for a moment - his frontflip put his heels high into the air before they dropped onto Hookwolf's head, crunching him into the tarmac. Highwayman had landed in a sitting position.

Finally, Grue lifted the last squirming skinhead, who had fallen onto Hookwolf, into another chokehold. He quickly passed out and fell limp.

I hadn't yet moved from my perch on the passenger side rung of our lorry - but now dropped down and stepped over to the closest knocked out skinhead. I quickly frisked him and took his phone and some cash. By the time I moved onto the second, Grue and Highwayman had caught up, and were checking over one each also. I didn't fancy trying to search Hookwolf, and doubted he'd carry much anyway. We inspected him from a safe distance and saw grisly blood pooling on the tarmac under his head. As one, we turned back to our truck, wordlessly climbing back in.

It was late afternoon when we returned to the Undersiders' area, and I still hadn't bought a change of clothes or any incidentals. We still needed to unload the dogs to a factory near to the Undersiders' hideout that Lisa and Rachel had chosen as the new shelter. The sound of dogs would be a pretty good sign that Bitch was operating from the area, but there were benefits to having them at hand - and I suspected the ABB were already considering the neighborhood as potential Undersider turf anyway.

There was enough space around the back of the new shelter to leave the trucks hidden from the road. It wasn't far back to the drainage area with the hidden entrance to the Undersiders' base.

Rachel and Brian stayed at the shelter getting things set up, and Violet opted to remain with them, but the rest of us collapsed into the couches in the loft of the Undersiders's place. I was sorely tempted to hit the tech, especially with the new stolen phones burning a hole in my pocket, but stayed with the group to debrief on the encounter with Hookwolf.

"I was backfiring like crazy towards the end. My power's gonna be sore for weeks," Alec was complaining.

"And then you just, what, kicked him in the head?" Lisa asked towards Mark.

"Kind of bashed him into the concrete, probably gave him a good crack - he'll be feeling like you, man!" Mark chuckled at me.

"Well that's probably good for our rep, but Hookwolf is a heavy hitter. Add him to the list of people who are gonna be pissed at us, I guess," Lisa said thoughtfully.

The rest of the group returned and we tucked into some ramen. I spent the time thinking about how much we had been caught out today - we went out to cover ourselves against the ABB, but ended up stepping on Empire toes, and because we were completely in the dark one of the heaviest hitters in Brockton Bay got the jump on us. We really needed an information network running, even if only to get locational coverage of just a few targets.

There was more to plan out there, but Lisa's laptop was calling to me. With her permission, I logged into my Tinker project, and put the familiar three points into machine assembly code, and two into computer science.

The operating system was begining to look more like an operating system, and during my absence it had identified a number of internet-connected computer clusters with underutilised system resources, which it had now commandeered.

I spent the evening adding a number of interface layers that would come in useful, including telecomms and various future-proofing. Finally satisfied, I took out the stolen phones I had lifted from Hookwolf's backup guys earlier. With a few clicks, I installed the basic app to all four, which rebooted them into the new OS. Now, we'd have our own comm lines, which certainly would help the information-gathering.

When I looked up from my Tinkering, the sun had long since set. Alec and Mark were playing video games, Lisa was leafing through a stack of paperwork taken from the casino robery, Rachel and Brian were nowhere to be seen, and Violet was curled up asleep on the corner sofa.

"You want to go for a walk?" I asked Lisa.

"Sure. There's only so long I can read about movements of human traffic anyway. Should we bring more cash?" She replied.

"I think so."

We headed out, Lisa in civilian guise, and walked in the direction we had last seen Pete and Debs. The streets were empty, most premises abandonded. Lisa was silent and thoughtful for a few moments before asking, "you don't like the cape business, do you?"

It was a vague question, but I caught her drift. "It seems a bit childish. Sorry. The outfits, and codenames, they don't ... " I tried to put it together, "they don't serve much purpose, really. Look at us now - with Lung on to us, you guys can't go around in your costumes right now in case he hears about it. So it would have been better if you had more anonymity as a cape, than a single codename and outfit, you know?"

"What are you thinking then, some sort of cape-Delta Force?"

"Well for a start, in an ideal situation, an opposition cape shouldn't be able to identify you from a glance and be able to think of countermeasures. You can't do that if you keep to a single name and appearance. Look at today - when Hookwolf appeared, we knew that he was susceptable to Regent's powers while in human-mode. So Regent batted him close to his buddies, so he couldn't go full blade-mode. If, instead, when he appeared, we didn't know which Empire cape it was, or even that it was Empire, our reaction would have been very different."

"You don't know about the Unwritten Rules, though - "

I stopped her. I did know about the Unwritten Rules. "The Unwritten Rules are the rules of the kid's zone. If you want to play in the kid's zone, you have to keep to the Rules. Sorry, I don't mean to put you guys down - but the real game is played in the world without Rules. I think once you see my outlook, you'll realise it has a lot more strengths than the Unwritten Rules."

She remained silent so I continued.

"In an ideal world, right now, with Lung after us, we should know his position around the clock. We should be turning or taking out his leutenants, locating his safe houses, and disrupting his income. With him on the defensive, we should be boxing him in, reducing his influence, until he - "

"Goes full dragon and flattens the city? He fought Leviathan, you know."

I felt like I did know that, but it set me back for a second. Should we be going full COINTELPRO on a violent dragon-man whose rage could level neighborhoods? Phrased like that, the question answered itself: no, naturally not - we take him out quietly, with a bullet from a trusted underling in a moment of downtime.

"Until he dies quietly in undisputed circumstances." That shut her up.

A few minutes later, we reached Pete and Deb's underpass. They were joined by two additional street gentlemen and a dog. One was tall, blonde and had a weathered appearance, the other dark with a goatee and a country look.

Debs spoke up, "this' the guy I was telling you about."

The newcomers looked curiously at me, with some suspicion. "Howdy. Yes, I'm the new employer in the area. 'You fellas looking for jobs?"

Goatee asked, "what's the job?"

"Lookout. I'll hire as many friends as you got, as long as they can keep their shit together. I'll pay a hun'ed bucks per job, and if you do the job right, there'll be plenty more." I felt my speech slipping into slang and colloquialism, which felt contrived to me (and probably Lisa) but seemed to have a positive effect on the men. I drew out the last of the combined teams' money, two hundred dollars, and held it out between the blonde and goatee. "I said ABB before, but really, we need to know about any trouble in the area. From I-48 here, right down to Petersham Highway, if the gangs are slinging or making moves, I want to know about it."

They nodded and took the money.

Finally I took out three of the stolen and flashed phones. "Don't lose these, don't sell these, don't let the batteries die. You can use them to call each other, or this phone - " I took the fourth out and passed it to Lisa - "which goes to your handler. If you need anything to do a job, you call her. And if you see or hear about anything new, you call her." Lisa nodded also. I think the new world I had described was taking hooks with her, and I knew she would like the idea of running intel ops. "If you have any buddies who want to join up, you can call her too."

I looked around the group. Pete and Debs, I realised, seemed like completely changed people from earlier this afternoon. The wild look had gone, and Pete's jaw was set in firm conviction. Debs had a serious look in her eye, and when she saw me looking, gave me a respectful nod. "We'll do it," she confirmed.

"Alright," I said, then went and sat in the dust next to the dog, who nuzzled my hand. "Do you want to start, then?"

The informants filled us (mostly Lisa, as I played with the dog) in on the groups operating in the surrounding neighborhoods. To the northwest, a group of white guys affiliated but a few steps removed from the Empire were selling cocaine derivatives. On the southwest of the area, a few abandoned factories were running as brothels, and I thought from the area they may have been ABB related. There were a few groups who acquired product from the Merchants to sell on the streets in the east.

We thanked them and left, with them promising to check in with Lisa, and started walking back to the hideout. "Thanks for the phone, by the way," she said, examining it, "do you think this will be your tinker speciality?"

"Today, maybe," I replied with a chuckle. At her nonplussed look, "I get five tinker charges that I can spend each day. I can allocate the five charges to one speciality each, or put all five in a single speciality. But I can only allocate once per day."

Lisa thought about that. "Bullshit Tinkers."

We got back to find the group much as we left them - but now Rachel was present with two new dogs, and Brian was using the laptop. Lisa and I walked over to the map we'd laid out earlier, to go over what we'd learnt from the informants.

While the area around the hideout wasn't claimed by any one group in particular, Mark and Violet's basic apartment was located firmly in ABB land. Pressing close to the Undersiders were the Empire and ABB, while the Merchants had tendrils throughout this half of the city.

Some colored pins marked the brothels and white-boy gangs in the surrounding streets. They seemed very attractive targets, being a few steps separated from their backing gangs. I looked up to see Lisa inspecting me closely, her question the same as mine. I nodded - yes, we should hit these locations.

The group seemed to have noticed we had come to a decision. Mark was nudging Violet awake on the couch, and even Alec put down the controller.

"Guys, Lisa and I were talking while doing the rounds. I had a thought about switching up the MO."

"Hit and run." Brian declared. "Always works for us. No trouble."

"Have you thought about holding territory? Hear me out," before Alec interrupted, "you could really play to your strengths on this one. Brian and Mark, you guys are like the cops: on the street, you lay it down hard, you uphold the law. Violet, you could walk into the Pentagon with your power. You could pick the pocket of the Chinese Emperor and nobody would know. And Alec, you - " I took a second as the memory came back to me, "you know what you can do. If someone tries to put spies in our organisation, you send them back." A small internal shudder at what the boy was capable of. "Lisa, why you're not already behind a screen 24/7, I don't know."

I looked around the group, not seeing any major dissent. Mostly they looked thoughtful, as they considered my assesment of their powers. "And Rachel?" Lisa asked. Rachel didn't even turn from her position, looking deeply into the ear of a large retriever.

"Rachel already knows about territory." Was my response. She grunted in agreement.

I let the mood sit for a minute, until just before they started asking questions, then launched into it. "So first of all, you guys," I addressed Mark and Violet, "were looking for another score. And there's extra pay for hitting ABB, from the Undersiders' boss. So if we managed to find three ABB businesses not too far away, would you be interested in hitting them tonight - only, my way, not the normal way?"

Mark glanced at Violet before answering, "Well, man, we normally work together on jobs, and it works well - us having the ability to, you know, tactically switch from running silent to loud." Violet nodded and he continued, "But I admit, I wouldn't get close to the Pentagon, so what did you have in mind?"

I drew them over to the map. A cluster of three red pins marked the ABB-associated brothels, on three blocks southwest of here. Lisa provided the plan: "At 6am, as business is closing, we split into three groups. Butterfly and Regent hit the first knocking shop here," she said pointing, "with the goal of infiltrating the central office and lifting the entire takings. Nobody - not Johns, not the women - should be left by 6, just the muscle and management."

Regent said sulkily, "my power's still sore."

I addressed Regent, with a slightly stern manner because he had interrupted the briefing of my squads - "Alec, you're backup only. Violet, I think you can get in and out with the cash without raising alarm." She looked introspective. "Eventually, Alec, once you have enough field experience, you'll be a firm back line player."

He sighed but didn't push it further, and Lisa continued, "Brian and Mark, you'll take the furthest one, and if it goes hot, this is where it'll happen. If you don't make out with the cash, don't sweat it, the boss will still pay anyway. Just blanket the area, and retreat."

I had them download my app to their phones, which gave us full encrypted channels, and Mark turned to me - "dude, what are you going to be doing?"

I looked at the clock. It was 2am, and I pushed my power, feeling anew the ability to grasp new specialities. "I'm going to be here, tinkering."

Last edited: Jul 15, 2018

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#7

DAY THREE

Before allocating this morning's Tinker points, I sat with a pen and paper sketching out ideas while around me the teams prepared for their operations.

The low hanging ideas of what I needed to get together were easy to jot down: the squads needed personal equipment, light weapons, body armor, transport. HQ needs medical, infotech, a garage. We needed staff more than anything. Then once established, we'd need unmanned intelligence gathering equipment: bugs, cameras, spy drones and the likes. It would take a lot of charges to get through this, and before I could start making anything I needed my own equipment: tools, fabricators, power supply, all staple tinker factors I presumed, even without any charges spent.

I was tempted to spend on mechanical engineering-style skills today, to get my own production lines up and running. But I decided, before spending any, to take a survey of what we had on hand around the hideout.

Upstairs were the consumer electronics and kitchen appliances. I took a torch and went down the rickety staircase, taking a first look at the factory floor their base was above. Two of Rachel's dogs who had been asleep in the corner of the room, hopped up and followed me in my examination.

I saw mostly old clamps and workbenches, stripped of anything useful and now little more than cobwebbed rust. Still unsure of whether any of this would spark a tinker muse once I picked some specialities, I made note of the iron hulks and moved out the front door, the dogs following.

The building immediately next to the Undersiders was surrounded by an old but high chicken wire fence, with a wide lot, then a structure with high brick walls with no windows. It looked to me like a distribution centre of some plumbing firm or other. We crossed the lot and I peered at the heavy iron door before circling the building.

No obvious way in. The building on the other side othe Undersiders was ruined, one side completely exposed, and clearly empty. Opposite looked more promising: Lansbury Logistics, the faded paint above the door declared, and there were indeed two truck loading ports.

High up on the side of the building, boarding had been broken on a high window. The window was above part of the lower level's roof, and it looked to me like a way in. I dragged an old drum over, stood it up, then climbed to the first level roof and through the hole into the building.

The first room looked like someone had lived in it long ago - a crusted matress, empty snack packets, and some scrunched up newspaper. I unrolled it and checked the date - eight months ago. The room must have served as some sort of office when Lansbury was still running, and a single remaining desk was pushed into a corner.

The door was a struggle to open, and I realised the prior inhabitant had attempted to seal it closed, perhaps to keep out anyone else in the building. I didn't think there were any bad characters in the area that I didn't already know about, thanks to the briefing from the informants earlier.

Past the door, I shone the torch down the dusty corridor and further down to the shop floor. No signs of inhabitation. I went carefully down the stairs, checking before I stepped, and scoped out the remaining infrastructure.

From the inside, the truck loading bays had a wide storage space that looked to be where the major cargo moving work happened, with an adjacent cleared area for longer term storage. At the opposite end of the shop was a wider, cab sized doorway with truck bed lifting ramps still built into the floor.

I poked around the garage end of the shop. Wooden boxes were falling apart and mostly had nothing but a few screws, but I did find a basic set of shop tools in some metal drawers. A few engine parts were in a pile next to a tire. Here also was the shop office, a wooden enclosure with a wide window looking over the bays, with an old desk. I checked the office with the torch - an old calendar from 2004, an empty filing cabinet, but little else.

Finding the main electricity breakers, I tentatively flicked some and two weak bulbs came on above me. That was good, at least, if someone's keeping the power on I'll be able to run high draw until they notice, and hopefully by then the Undersiders will have the entire area under control.

Flicking the power off again, I made my way to a single side door - an emergency exit by the looks of it, one which opened from the inside but didn't allow ingress. I left it propped open and returned to Lisa in the Undersiders' loft.

She had the laptop open before her, and her phone in one hand as she conducted check-ins with the field squads. We were all tired at this hour - it was currently around three-thirty AM, but the teams had been instructed to maintain stealth and keep an eye on their targets for a while before launching. If Lisa was anything to go by, spirits were slightly lifted among the team from the elevation in operations.

"I'm going to be Tinkering across the road, in that building there," I pointed in the direction of Lansbury's, and she slid to me the phone I had given her earlier.

"I got your app running on my own phone and transferred the profile over, so this one is yours again. Oh - and we have spare toiletries under the sink, the boys keep spare civilian cloths here that you can borrow if they fit."

"Thanks," I started, but she was already engrossed in her screen again. I walked over and looked, as she rearranged photographs captured by the field teams of senior staff at the targets, moving pictures then frowning and sliding them again.

I left her to it and headed back out, charges in mind. Two for now into automotive engineering, and two into mechanical engineering - deliberately not allocating the fifth charge this early in the day, in case I wanted to take a third speciality subject later on.

6am found me covered in grease, deep in the belly of one of the trucks we stole earlier. I had it hoisted up in the back of Lansbury's, and was lying on my back facing the undercarriage with a knocked-together welding torch in one hand, and a specially-sized socket wrench in the other when my phone beeped.

"What's the message?" I asked out loud.

"'Starting now'," the mechanical voice of my operating system replied.

I was planning on monitoring their field performance but got slightly carried away in the engineering. At 7.30, when Violet came to find me, I was attaching interior components to one of two bulking armored personnel carriers. I noticed Violet dressed as Butterfly stood beside me, and even though I should have been used to her sneaking up on me, still got a small fright from her. "Wow, these are the same trucks from yesterday!"

After calming down, I gave her a grin, and waited to turn down my tinker charges before speaking, so that I could try and explain without going off the rails. "I souped them up, added armor plating, fire holes, and connected the cabin to the cargo hold," gesturing down the length of the vehicle, "these will get a big group, plus the dogs, around at, er ... " - I looked again at the engine. A complex web of piping under six inches of steel plate cannibalised from the Undersiders' floor. I didn't understand how it worked, but I had already ran some performance tests, "one hundred and twenty miles per hour." And they should need less fuel at maximum accelertion than modern technology was capable of.

"Anyway, how did tonight go - everyone alright?"

She nodded, still looking up at the APCs, then we both headed out the side door back to the loft.

Most of the team were laid out resting on the couches. On the coffee table was a stack of cash, perhaps a few thousand. Lisa was going through paperwork the teams must have lifted, and I took a moment to check everyone over. Mark had a bit of blood on him, but I caught his eye and he gave me the 'ok' sign. Everyone else looked alright, but were resting.

I went and sat with Lisa, at what had become her desk. "This is good intel," she said, shuffling papers, "we can pick up more ABB locations from these records."

She checked her phone and continued. "The guys, the street guys, were on point last night too. They bought three new guys in, I already paid them all another hundred dollars from the pile." I nodded agreement with taking funds from the collected stash.

I was fairly exhausted and wanted to crash like the others, but the pull of tinkering was quite high too. I settled on showering, washing up, and borrowing some of Brian's spare clothes. Walking back into the living room, I saw Violet and Lisa still hadn't settled down and didn't seem like they were about to, with Violet perched on the sill watching the road, and Lisa still looking at papers. Good, I thought, they know they need to keep watch for the others and will rest in a few hours.

One of the dogs followed me across the road again to Lansbury's, and settled down chewing a piece of rubber as I got back to work. I decide to compose a message to Tattletale.

Hey, if there's any of the street guys left awake, would you mind asking them to steal industrial vehicles and bring them to Lansbury's, across the road? I can open the bay when they get here.

Message sent, I look back to the APCs. They looked mostly operational, although I'd been using their engines to run my tools, so we'd need more gasoline soon.

I decided to tap into the factory's power grid. Someone might come knocking at some point, but we should be locked down before then. I headed over to mains electricity terminal, already thinking about which tools I'd need to make, and set to work.

First I stripped the wire housing and the various safety features of the main power line, leaving it exposed for the moment. Then I began taking apart the truck bed lift in the factory floor, that I'd been using earlier, and re-purposed the motor's interior to make a heating coil. Then I dragged together a makeshift crucible from scrap iron around the Undersiders' ruined factory, and set to work melting down some scrap.

I realised I had been staring at the molten metal for long minutes as I mentally stuttered around what to do next. Oh right - one remaining Tinker shard went to metallurgy.

I used the remaining APC engine fuel to charge a magnet strong enough to separate the molten metal, then began roughly measuring the flow for a particular brass-like alloy. This one, when set, will have a very high melting point - so I'll use it as a mold for toolmaking, into which I'll pour other alloys.

A few hours passed, and I had separated out a few different alloys into crucibles made of the brass-like metal. The delivery of two new stolen trucks by Tattletale's guys was welcome - the engines contained a few interesting metals, and I had some choice alloy designs in mind.

The first design, and really my first tinker item produced from scratch, was an electric blowtorch similar to my hastily made one earlier. This one could weld the alloys I'd be making. A shiny, reflective metal tool about the size of an electric toothbruth, it would nonetheless spray a configurable cone of heat from its efficient electric element.

Very good, I thought, and moved on to my other tools. I made a complete set of grinders, hammers, wrenches and tools that could change socket sizes on the fly.

Finally, I hammered out an aerated steel material which should stop bullets, yet be light and flexible enough to wear. There was probebly enough to cover two people, and I had stripped most metal from the two delivered trucks by this point.

I realised I was exhausted and wandered back across the road, yawning. Crossing the road I noticed on both corners a rugged-looking spotter nod to me respectfully. So Tattletale had expanded the network while I was working then, good.

Arriving back to the loft, I saw Brian and a reluctant-looking Alec sparring while Mark watched, arms crossed. Lisa and Violet were asleep on the sofas. I grabbed the chair next to them and nodded off immediately.

Last edited: Jul 9, 2018

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#9

It was deep into the afternoon when I woke up to the sound of Lisa rattling the loft's staircase on her way up. Groggily I watched her as she crossed the room, staring at her phone, to her desk where she sat down glumly.

"Everything alright?" I ventured sleepily.

"I just got back from seeing the boss," she patted a bag, "and picking up the bonus for last night, plus the cleaned bills from the Casino job."

She continued, frowning, "he was especially weird today. He just kept complimenting me. He kept me for half an hour, making weird smalltalk, where he just said the odd compliment. I just don't get it."

She tipped the money onto the table. Alec stood up from where he had been sitting, wide-eyed, approaching the stacks. I wasn't surprised this time to see that Violet was also in the room, and she whistled at the pile of bills.

"Did he offer you any more work?" I asked.

"No, but he mentioned that we should call him next time we run a job like last night. He can give us the coverage of his operations." She was still frowning. "And powers."

I looked at the wall behind Lisa. It had various print-outs of mugshots and this morning's surveillance photos, of who I presumed to be the local gang-affiliated networks. "Any news from the street?" I asked.

"The Empire-wannabes on the Jefferson block have pulled their necks in. No dealing, no buyers." She pointed out the group to our northwest that our street informants had told us about yesterday. "We had more ABB sniffing around this morning, near the brothels we took down, but they don't have leads on us yet. We have eyes pointed in that direction, though."

I looked again at the pile of money and considered our options. "If it's alright with you guys, can we spend some of this on sourcing Tinker materials? Lisa, there must be a couple of your guys who can fence electronics, or do a few cut and runs."

She looked down at her phone book. "Maybe. What sort of materials?"

"Cars, phones, laptops, the usual smash and grab." Her eyes widened. "There must be a few of the guys who you think are up to it."

I stood up and stretched. Only a few hours left to take full advantage of metallurgy and engineering, but I had other priorities tonight. I turned to Alec and Violet. "Where are Brian and Mark?"

"Out patrolling," Violet answered.

"Alec, Violet, do you feel like running a quick job with me?" I asked, with a grin plastered on my face.

They both returned comically suspicious looks but agreed. "Should I get my stuff?" Alec asked, referring to his costume.

I shrugged. "Only if you think you need to." He paled and went to fetch it, perhaps thinking about the ghosts of his past.

We filed out, the front door rather than the hatch this time, and I led the pair across the road. To our left and right, groups of dishevelled men were joking amongst themselves, probably about the $100 they'd been given upfront, with no cost to them so far. I stopped walking and pointed at one group of four guys. "Ready for some work?" I called out to them.

They stopped joking and walked over, with some hesitation. I waved them to hurry, and fell in line with them when they came level. One of them, the eldest, had a distinct look that made be think he was an armed forces veteran. I pointed him out, and announced him in charge of the group. He gave me a vague salute and the group hurried into Lansbury's, and I directed them into the back benches of the closest APC. Regent and Butterfly were in the front passenger seats, and I started the engine and pulled out of the garage.

While pulling out, I turned and quickly looked my veteran in the eye. "What's your name, uncle?"

"Jaycee, sir." Eyes back on the road, I waved down the 'sir'.

"You know anything about motors, Jaycee?"

"Twelve years in motorised infantry, sir. If it's got wheels, I know it."

"That garage back there is yours, alright? I have some stuff in there for now, but you're going to run it as a garage eventually."

He gasped but said nothing. I said nothing more either, and we drove in silence to our destination.

The Jefferson block. Up towards I-48, which marked the northern boundary of our area, but out west, towards the Empire gang turf. Jefferson, as a housing block, was a mostly "working-class white" neighborhood that would have serviced the docks or the industries, back when Brockton was still connected to sea trade. Driving through the area at dusk settled, I saw few abandoned houses - but the boarded windows, tired yards, missing steps and the signs of degradation marked the financial fate of the streets. The APC attracted some stares, but I was more impressed with the folks who looked at it for a moment, then turned back to whatever they had been looking at before.

I had Regent call Lisa, and using her power we pulled up at the top of a road she was pretty sure was the one. Beckoning Regent to come with me, we walked down to the house in question. I noticed that it was detached, relatively well-kept, and that the car in the driveway was slightly nicer than the neighboring pickups. Clearly the family were already the lucky ones on this road. Motioning Regent to wait here, I walked up the path and tapped on the door. It was opened by a middle-aged woman.

"Hi Mrs Pakusa. Is Bennie at home? I'm his friend from back in school."

"Yes, he's in the basement with his friends. You can go on down." She opened the door wide and pointed to the smaller door set into the staircase behind her, then withdrew back into the house.

I thanked her and paused at the top of the stairs she had indicated. I could hear a few young men talking.

" - fiends calling my cell, fiends knocking at my mom's!"

"They just said to sit on it?"

"Until they sort out whatever - "

The voice cut off as the speaker noticed me. There were a few sofas in the basement, and I saw four guys were deep in conversation. All were wearing baggy sports attire, two had baseball caps on.

I launched into it. "Speak of the devil, eh!"

At that opening, and my presence in their basement, they were bought short for a moment. I carried on. "And he appears? You never heard that? Anyway. B-Dog." I got comfy on the couch next to who I guessed was Bennie. "The reason your 88 supplier warned you to stop working, is because they know, that you are currently stepping on the Undersiders' turf, and this has made the Undersiders very annoyed with you guys." I let that sink in. "In fact, we were so annoyed, Hookwolf himself had to step in and ask us to let you go. Do you know what we said to Hookwolf?"

From one of the guys - "holy shit! That was you?"

Something made me think, that the speaker was the one with the Empire connect, even though Bennie was the leader of their little outfit. "So I thought, maybe I can work this out, maybe it doesn't have to come to more violence between B-Dog and the Undersiders. Maybe if I came to talk to you, round your mom's house, in your basement with the guys, we could save you from all the bad stuff they had planned."

They shared a concerned look. "Grue didn't want me to come, he tried to talk me out of it. Do you know Grue? You can look him up later, he's a scary fucker. He wanted to be the one to come here." I actually heard a gulp from Bennie. "But I told him, 'y'know, just wait. Give these guys one chance, they'll come through'. He didn't think that you would put in the work, to make up for dealing in our 'hood."

I took the phone out of my pocket, quickly flicked it to a new profile, and set it on the small table between the couches. "It would be a real shame, when your new boss calls on that line, if you weren't ready to put in work. Although I don't think Grue would mind. What's it to be guys?" I asked the group, while looking boreholes into Bennie's eyes.

He nodded, then tore his eyes away to look at the phone, looking at it like it might explode.

The group were shocked into silence for a minute, and I took my moment to leave. Standing up, I put a hand on Bennie's shoulder. "Don't let me down, B-Dog."

Driving back gave me the opportunity to pass south through our area again, and a few streets away from where I'd seen him last I stopped the APC and dug a few bills out of my pocket. "What's the good word, Sammie?"

From the sidewalk, the bearded old fellow took his time getting up and shuffled over to take the twenty from my outstretched hand. "God bless." He phrased it more as a invitation, as one might say a leading "go on".

"Seen any trouble around, Sammie?"

He hummed and looked back at me. I held out another twenty.

"I heard that some parlours got turned over. That's it."

"See ya tomorrow, Sammie." He hummed again and went back to lie down.

I passed near the hideout and continued driving south, towards the ABB areas. Driving the length of our border, I deliberately slowed when passing the one brothel of the three operating in our area that we didn't hit, this morning. A man was smoking outside, and watched our passing with his eyes only, without turning his head. After we'd passed, I saw him throw down his cigarette and turn to the door. Clearly they were open for business tonight, although I'd imagine the management were asking stern questions about their security. At a junction I turned left, and after a minute we passed the establishment that Grue and Highwayman had turned over. No lights were on, and the metal window shutters normal to this area were heavily dented in places. The front door screen had been half ripped from its hinges. I slow the APC for a second, before doing an elaborate U-turn and driving back to the hideout.

The message I'd hoped to deliver was that the Undersiders were now the cat amongst the local pigeons. Eventually, I hoped, we'd be taking security from these places, either in cash or in tradecraft and intelligence.

At the nearest intersection to the hideout, I gave a wave to Debs, who was casually sat with two dogs by a wall. Presumably Lisa had assigned her to watch this corner tonight. Reversing slightly into our road, I parked the APC lengthways across both lanes and stepped out.

"Well, that was fun," moaned Regent, who had emerged from the passenger side.

I gave him a measured look. The boy was a touch annoying, but I knew that he had peculiar tastes, and wouldn't be satisfied with just patrol work. "I wanted to show you those brothels, Regent."

Butterfly snorted.

I carried on. "They'd love a pretty boy like you working there."

Regent gave a whole-hearted laugh.

"But seriously, I'm sending you to work there."

He laughed again.

"I mean it, though. In a few days they're going to be putting out feelers to the Undersiders, and when they do, you'll be put in charge of running that side of the business." The espionage potential in having female employees willing to do certain deeds was immense. And Alec's powers and predilections were well suited to the role of spymaster - not that I planned to mention that to him, yet.

"You're not kidding. Ha -wow! Brian and Lisa would never have let me - "

"Alright, don't get carried away!" I saw behind us, Jaycee and the guys were still hovering around the APC. "C'mon Jaycee, I'll get you set up," I called over to them. "Gonna hit the Tinker guys. Catch you later."

"Don't ruin your eyes!," Violet returned.

I walked with the guys over to Lansbury's and showed them through the main entrance. Pointing out the sparse features of the place, I outlined to Jaycee: "So eventually I want this place running as a garage and warehouse. I've been tinkering back here - " I pointed over to the empty stacked crucibles and various exposed pipework and cabling "- but I'll get it out of your way. Clean the place up, I'll help with amenities, should be OK. What do you think?" I asked, rubbing my scruffy chin.

I took a good look at Jaycee. I didn't know how long he'd been homeless, but he'd clearly turned to drink at some point, with burst capillaries around the tip of his nose. He scratched his ear as he looked around. I could tell some part of him was in his element. "We'll get it looking nice, won't we fellas?" he addressed his three younger companions. They muttered agreement. I decided to leave them to it, as they scuffed their toes on the dusty floor and poked at the odd boxes around the place.

Checking the time, I had one and a half reliable hours of mechanical engineering and metallurgy before speciality switching at midnight, so I picked up my shiny welding torch and headed out into the road.

The building adjacent to the Undersiders' hideout had remained elusive so far. I headed through the gap in the fence and, very proudly adjusting the conics on my blowtorch, I cut out the heavy metal front door lock and wrestled the door open.

A short, dark corridor greeted me. Along the left wall was a glass panel, on the other side of which was an office, presumably where entrants would be greeted or served. Double doors at the end of the corridor led to a warehouse occupying the remainder of the building. Two rows of tall bare shelving remained, and in the corner were stacked a few marble slabs with polystyrene. Some kind of kitchen or bathroom counter depot, or something. I kicked some rubble away from the bottom of a heavy metal shutter, and using the blowtorch cut the padlock keeping the shutter closed. I pushed my fingers into the dust and grime and lifted, and with a squeal only lifted the shutter a foot or so.

I repositioned and hauled again. 'Lift from the knees, not the back'. This time I got it another foot up, and ducked my head under. That might be enough for now.

Walking back to the road, I saw that two scavengers were rolling into the far end of the street whooping, pushing a shopping cart full of copper wire they must have snatched. I saw the goatee'd country boy, that I had met under the bridge with Debs and Pete, step out of the shadows and hand cash to the still cheering guys. They bobbed back down the street, arms around one another, counting their cash and laughing.

"Hey, Country!" I called out, walking over. Goatee spun and saw me, then snapped straight. "Nice haul! Could you give me a hand getting it set up?" I asked, gesturing at the cart full of wires and cabling.

Within thirty minutes, Country and a few other guys had laid a power line from Jaycee's to the new building, plus helped me haul the forge stuff over and lift the shutters fully. The power situation wasn't great, I was losing a lot of amperage across the cable's 60-foot-or-so length, but once everything was bought over and I could tap into Tinker powers, I found a low-current method of heating the forge for the hour I would need it.

Next came a bit of alloy making again. This time I was going for volume, and selecting metals with high shock and shear tolerance. In Tinker fugue I melted down most of the scrap metals in the area - after I had gone and grabbed the office chair from the tramp's stinky bedroom above Jaycee's, I spent a few minutes picking up rusted cans from piles of trash in the corners around our buildings before remembering that I had employees to do this.

As the minutes ticked to midnight, I had a decent volume of molten metal in the crucibles around the kitchen depot.

Then the changeover and I felt my power relax, as if it had been clenching for the past day.

DAY FOUR

Before assigning my powers, I took stock of my plans. Today we needed some serious armaments. Gunsmithing, I thought - let's settle for one point for now.

Electronic signals surveillance was going to be crucial, and I already had the bare bones of a hacking platform done, but I wasn't sure there'd be time to pore over ABB bank records before they could make a move on us.

Getting the local fortifications set up would be nice, and I was tempted to pick up structural engineering, but I didn't know if we had the manpower yet to go throwing up walls and gateways in one day.

But we should be getting a lot of electronics today, I resolved, one way or another - either the network would source it, or I would need to ask Butterfly to go to some store and lift a few. One point into electrical engineering, then, and we'll see whether I can get some fieldwork equipment together. One more in communicative technology. Neat.

I still needed to get the HQ running, and felt most behind the eight-ball in that aspect. For a moment, I felt hampered by my power - unless I dropped points now into medicine or biotech, I couldn't be sure what kind of infrastructure or tech-base I'd need to create medicines and so on, but then I'd have potentially wasted a speciality today if the answer was 'three years of building from scratch'. I should be making a more generic tech-base now, and hope it adapts to pumping out medicines when the day comes. And that carried for all the other stuff I'd need in the base.

Sighing forlornly, I almost felt a wave of depression coming along, before catching the cooling pool of metal in the corner of my eye. The gunsmithing power was already racing ahead, a giddy serious of flashing images of exotic energy rifles, guns shaped like anything, strange ballistics - I decided to drop one more charge in gunsmithing, and save the last incase I needed a different speciality later in the day.

My hands racing with excitement, I threw some used molds made of my brass-like alloy into the forge, letting them melt down again. I found a sack of builder's sand, and poured it out in the corner. Using my home-made tinker tools from yesterday, with their adjustable measurements, I formed the sand into the shapes of gun parts I held in my mind, then going over the shape with my blowtorch, before measuring, filing, and blowtorching again. Measuring one last time, I lay the cooked sand in one of the molds and poured the brass onto it.

A few hours later, and I had set up a production line of sorts. Take the steel alloys made earlier, before midnight Pour them into the brass molds and allow to cool. Take the cooled steel out of the mold to the workbench, and pour the next part to cool. At the workbench, file, sand, apply stylistic touches, and finally assemble the triggers, latches, handpieces, barrels and magazines into the long revolvers my powers had suggested.

Two stolen trucks and one hatchback were delivered to Jaycee's around 5am. His guys, plus a few more who thought they knew a thing about engines, plus me with the blowtorch, worked to strip the parts and bring the metals over to a pile before the forge.

Next, the pièce de résistance. While my guns would be firing regular ammunition and not some kind of tinker-chemical gunpowder, they could take shells of a range of sizes and handled extremely well. This allowed for more complex mechanisms. In this case, four-barrelled gatling-style cannons, each half as big as a man but only a few times as heavy - I had enough metal for a few, and the tinker power certainly offered a few more - but they all had too many individual parts and I didn't have enough molds, or crucibles, or forge space ...

About 7.30am, the sun was rising and caught the metalwork, as I admired my two shiny creations. I gave the barrel of one a test spin, and watched it complete three easy rotations with glee.

I saw Mark approaching past the fence, and gave him a wave through the lifted shutter door. I dropped the Tinker charges to speak to him. "Pretty nice, huh!" I called as he approached, waving at the arrayed firepower racked on the shelves behind me. Twenty four pistols, their barrels a hefty two square inch cuboid of ten inches, elaborate sight-lines and curving, and a bulky handhold and trigger.

"Man, you do surprise, you know that?" Mark picked one up and felt the weight, twisting it in his wrist, pointing it this way and that. "I was going to buy some hot breakfast dude and wondered where you had gotten to." He walked over and inspected the gatling guns from a few feet away, arms crossed. "What are they for?"

"They go on top of the APC, of course."

"Of course. Anyway, I wanted to check you, man." He turned around and took a few more steps to an empty crucible, which he flipped over and sat on. "Are you still a bit out of it from the hit?" he asked, pointing at his own head to signify mine.

I pulled up a crucible and sat down, feeling the back of my head. "I hadn't noticed it much, really."

"I meant your memories."

"Oh!" I thought about it for the first time in the past day or two. I had been optimistic that my memory problems would work out, but not bothered enough to focus on the issue. "No ... not yet ... "

"Do you think anyone is, like, looking for you? Out there."

I thought about that one. It was a sad thought, really. "Probably ... how could a person just vanish?, they'll be asking themselves. My old mailman, maybe the local store-clerk or whatever. Maybe a girlfriend, or wife." I looked at my bare ring finger. I don't know why - I already knew it was bare. "Spooky. Not much I can do now, though, and not much anyone out there can do now, apart from try to build our lives from the pieces we have."

He was looking out onto the road, in thought.

"And I'll definitely take some breakfast if you're going!"

His grin returned and he laughed, rose from the crucible and chuckled "alright, I'll meet you in the loft."

I watched him go and looked back to my workbench. Powering up gunsmithing to one, I picked up a few loose pieces and started welding.

"Did you hear me?" I switched off the welder and turned to the door. Mark was there, holding two full bags, having attracted a crowd of dogs that he was trying to push away. "I got the food man, let's go eat."

Lisa, Mark, Violet and I tucked into the bagels and caught up on events. Brian and Alec were sleeping, and Rachel was doing her thing.

There was already a small and growing pile of phones, laptops and tablets in an 'in-tray' beside the front door of the Undersiders' home warehouse. After eating, I went and grabbed a handful, taking them over to my workbench set up next door.

Cracking open a few casings, I sunk a charge into electronics, to see what I was dealing with. I used my more delicate tinker tools to pry out the components and separated them into piles. I knew what I wanted to do with them - and couldn't even imagine at this stage, what a Tinker like Armsmaster would do with all of this kit - but I didn't have the ability to really go deep into these parts. I had CPUs here from four different manufacturers, and if I wanted to make a super-CPU I'd probably need to render these down to a scale I couldn't manage by eye.

Systems architecture then, I pondered, not yet dropping my final charge of the day. I want all of our buildings to be connected with a wireless network for data sharing and so on. So is it better to build one, big, central computer here, and then compute on-site and return the results - or have each device be a complete unit in-and-of-itself?

What the hell, I decided, and dropped the last unassigned charge into computer networking.

Lots of delicate work with the soldering mode of my blowtorch later, and I was struggling to keep my eyes open while I finished a few pieces. In front of me were a piles of chained components and frankenboards. Determined not to turn in until I had a few completed parts, I fired up the forge once more and set to making metallic housing for my new devices.

I had made seven small radio signal boosters, which could provide coverage over a good portion of our territory, and network with the phones to provide untraceable comms.

From a tangle of old wired headphones I had produced a series of shiny earpieces, for two-way field comms. They would fit snugly in almost any ear shape, and the tiny dial on the side could control the frequency channel.

Finally, gifts for Lisa - I had amalgamated a number of screens into four wide, glossy displays with stylish metallic housing. No more staring at the tiny laptop monitor all day long.

I waved in a few guys off the street to help with carrying, and we hauled everything back up to the loft. I fell onto the sofa opposite Violet and was out like a light.

Last edited: Jul 14, 2018

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DigitalSlavery

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 10, 2018

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It was only early afternoon when I woke up. I felt rough as hell, and grimy to boot - two nights sleeping rough on the loft couches had not done my posture any favors. The loft was otherwise empty - I checked a second time for Violet - so I took my time scrubbing up and borrowing another set of Brian's spare clothes.

The Undersiders only had instant coffee, but I found a nice mug in a cupboard above the sink, that I guessed was probably Lisa's, and made a quick brew. The April sun was bright through the closed blinds. I took my coffee over to the window and pushed some slats down to peer out at a blue, cloudless sky. A nice day, then. Beneath the window, I saw Mark and Brian joking with some of the guys. In a pile of shoes near the door I spotted flip-flops that seemed about the right size. I kicked them on and ambled down the stairs.

Emerging into the warm sunlight out the front, a curled-up dog by the front door had seen me coming and stood up stretching. He wagged his tail as we walked out into the road, and I leant down to give him a few pats while taking stock.

The APC was still blocking the top of the road, but someone had bolted one of the gatling guns to the roof, which looked neat. A group of men were clustered around it smoking, leaning against the side and talking.

Across the road, both truck loading ports were opened at Jaycee's, and he was decked on the raised concrete between them - half enjoying the sun, half overseeing some boys sweeping the lot. I took another sip of coffee and a slow walk over. He beamed as I approached. "How's it looking, uncle?"

Jaycee stood up, and together we walked over to peer inside the old logistics building. "She ain't too bad, boss! One of the fellas here reckons he used to run a mechanic shop, before times went bad. Reckons he knows a thing or two about the trade." He pointed to a group of men in oily rags, gathered around a delivery truck. One was lecturing the others, the large wrench in his hand pointing at some engine component. "Says he can strip the VIN, swap out any registered parts and overwrite the software on the engine computer."

Oh! I thought. He knows a thing or two about THAT trade.

I threw back the rest of the coffee and handed the mug to Jaycee, who took it unquestioningly. "Alright, looks good Jaycee, let Tattletale know if you need anything." Clapping him on the shoulder, the dog and I walked over to the building I had mentally dubbed the armory. Country was stacking a couple of boxes of ammunition in the corner beside the raised metal shutter. Having blowtorched the locks out yesterday, we would need to get the doors switched out before long, I decided, eyeing the rows of pistols on the shelves. A couple were missing, and I hoped they were in good hands. A clothes store mannequin leant against one wall. Where are you people finding this shit? I wondered.

"Country, you're Quartermaster, alright?" I called over to him.

"Aaah'm whut?"

"I'll let you live in this building, if you watch my guns for me."

"Shit, I'd have done it anyway."

The mannequin presented me a good opportunity though, to finish making something I'd started a few days ago. I walked over to my by workbench and picked up the two reams of aerated steel fabric, a flexible metal I'd whipped up a few nights ago in Tinker fugue. It had the same sort of texture as an iron wool wire sponge, but had the toughness to blunt lower calibre bullets and blade impacts. I didn't fancy making full suits without some clothier tinker charges, but it was simple enough to press the fabric over the mannequin torso between neck and shoulders, and then shoulders and waist, cutting out then melting together a basic bulletproof vest. It looked itchy as hell.

I was feeling hungry and took a stroll back up to the loft. Tattletale was back at her erstwhile desk, now with four large screens laid out in front of her and against the wall. She was talking with someone over the earpiece and simultaneously tapping on her phone. I munched on some crackers while she spoke.

"Keep an eye on Allenby until four, then rotate out with Simone's group ... OK, I'll send someone over ... Call me if you see the Toyota."

She looked up at me with a grin. "Oh boy, Jimmy, we've kicked the hornet's paydirt here."

I perched on the back of the sofa to face her, motioning her to continue.

"A group of Chinatown business owners are gathering today, to discuss the security situation with Lung. They're going to tell Lung that he isn't doing enough to protect them, given the considerable security they pay the ABB. We - I - tracked the local brothel guy, Dai Ling, back to the restaurant they normally use and from there we got details about the meet - but the location of the meet isn't the important thing!" She ran on breathlessly. "The important thing is where Lung isn't going to be at six thirty - which is anywhere we want to hit! I found some ABB dopehouses and I'm trying to figure out their rotations - "

I gave her a gentle wave. "Easy there, Lisa, you'll give yourself a nosebleed." She returned a sarcastic look. "Let's get B-Dog on this." Her eyes flickered as she worked out who I was referring to. "Let's ask Mark and Violet to go pick his boys up from Jefferson - hitting stash houses is Mark and Violet's thing anyway, but I want the white-boys in the vanguard." I rubbed my very scruffy chin and thought about the day's priorities. "And how's the tech working?"

"We have comms coverage of most of the area now - I make sure the radio boosters were spread out. I have eyes from - oh ..." I watched her eyes glaze over for a moment, as she listened to someone over the earpiece. There were still a few spares on the shelf, so I grabbed one and put it in my ear, switching it to the common channel.

"Four, now five biker vans westbound on Laker. And I can see a ... whoa ... sorry, I think that's Rune? Floating in the sky on a rock ... "

I looked square at Lisa and gestured abruptly at the road out the window. "Who do we have here?" I meant, what calibre of employee was nearby, and trusted her to get it.

She shook her head. "Brian is with his sister. Rachel should be nearby, but Alec's power is still bad. Some of Pete's guys looked like they could hold their own. Do you still want Mark and - "

"Yeah, they can still take the dopehouses. I'll handle the Empire - I'll be on comms!" I called around the doorframe, already running down the stairs.

And then back up. Flip-flops off, my shoes on. Then back down again. I could hear Tattletale was back on comms, hurrying some fighters back to our area from wherever they must have been patrolling.

Pete had already gotten a call, and he and Blondie were jogging towards me from down the road. I hurried to the armory, where Country was leaning on the wall chewing something. Quickly I pulled on the vest, and grabbed my blowtorch, tucking it into my vest. Pete arrived and I handed him three pistols and a box of shells, telling him to load them on the ride over. Pete was cautious about handling the guns, but Blondie was looking at them with a look close to avarice.

We hurried back out of the armory to the road, Country still leaning on the wall and still chewing something. The second APC was still parked up in the back of Jaycee's warehouse, and I noticed that it, like the other had a gatling turret on the roof. Neat. One of the mechanic guys threw the shutter door open in front of the APC, as I started the engine and watched Pete and Blondie climb into the back.

A quick wave goodbye to the garage guys, then I pulled around Jaycee's and back onto the road. I turned left and left again, coming the drainage area where the Undersiders' hidden tunnel came out. Rachel was there, throwing a ball which almost thirty excited mongrels bounced into one another to chase.

"Rachel!" I shouted. She looked around. "Nazis!"

She whistled loudly, and the mass of dogs dispersed, continuing to chase one another between a gap in nearby warehouses. Ten or so dogs remained near Rachel, scratching their haunches or laid out watching. As she turned and started walking to the APC, they arose and followed her.

When they were in, I reversed out of the street and started driving with urgency to the eastern edges of our territory. I had to stop a few times to pick up more friendlies, angry and armed with crowbars or rebar. Looking back, the dogs were already growing as Rachel tapped into the group fury.

Floating above a factory roof a few blocks east, I saw Rune before the rest of their convoy and we were greeted with falling rocks smashing into the reinforced ceiling of the APC's cabin. The dogs started jumping at the APC's back door, snarling and gnashing.

"With me, Pete!" I yelled, starting to bail out the driver side door. Rachel had thrown the back door open and I had to stop moving, quickly closing the door to avoid it getting ripped off, as the now pony-sized meatballs barreled down my side of the APC towards the approaching black biker vans.

"Alright nevermind - " I held out my hand to Pete and he quickly passed over a pistol, " - you two guard the truck. Use the gun on the roof, try and take out their air support."

The dogs had passed, and I now stepped out, having to keeping close to the side to let pass four crudely armed vagrants who had emerged from the back after the dogs.

The biker vans had come to a halt now, and I watch gangs of skinheads and bikers emerging. From the backmost van, three masked and strangely dressed figures climbed out, their costumes announcing themselves as the capes present and giving me a quick chance to recognise which capes they were.

It looked like the bare-chested Hookwolf had bought the box-headed Cricket and the chain-wrapped Stormtiger, unless they had had the sense to switch their costumes, which I doubted.

A group of homeless warriors charged the closest bikers, their crowbars aloft, and got a few clobbers in, when I saw biker hold out a gun and shoot a charging warrior in the chest, and he dropped backwards - as now three dogs were tearing through skinheads, shredding them underfoot as they thrashed and kicked to no avail. I quickly stepped back, to the back tire of the APC, and took cover on one knee behind the back bumper. Carefully aligning the sights on one nazi who was firing round after round into the stampede of dogs, I felt it would be pertinent to put a quick charge back into gunsmithy. My power took a moment to wash over the gun in my hand, and helped correct my aim slightly. I squeezed the trigger twice and hit his right upper arm and shoulder, making him fall backwards to the ground. Blondie dropped down from the back door of the APC, and crouched at the other bumper, taking aim also.

I put down a few more shooters, and in the mayhem before me saw Cricket gracefully flipping through the air to avoid dogs, her scythes trailing blood from my vagrant troopers. Stormtiger was lashing out with explosive air blades at a maul of dogs harassing him, but they were grown past the point where his weapons could do much damage. I saw one grabbing Stormtiger in it's jaws around the waist.

I fired a few more times, at skinheads who had prevailed in my team's early charge, and heard Blondie take a few shots also. In a gap between moving dogs, I saw Hookwolf as a wolf's head of blades and hooks, his arms shredding the dogs around him. He began to roar. I lined up another shot at Cricket - missing her body but hitting her outstretched blade, knocking it out of the path of a charging dog. It lowered its head as it ran to meet her.

Having collected some more rubble, Rune chose the time to re-enter the fight, pelting the battlefield with hunks of brick. I leant back into cover and felt a few chips from nearby bricks hitting me. A thud on the roof told me Pete had found the hatch, and the sound of the gatling gun opening up put the Empire capes on the defense.

I was momentarily pleased that the gatling turrets had been loaded separately earlier - I was worried the box of rounds I had picked up were the only ones we had, which would give Pete only fifteen rounds or so on the turret - as I saw Rune pull back her debris to make a bullet screen. Her cries indicated a hit.

Hookwolf's roar increased in volume, and his legs became extending blades, in one leap propelling him above the dogs and towards the APC. I took a few shots at him, which seemed to do nothing. He landed in front of the APC and punched the front with his full might, sending the whole thing screeching back a few inches. Pete aimed the turret at his head, forcing Hookwolf to throw up his bladed arms into a bullet screen as he began taking a running leap ... I sprinted out of cover, firing off a few rounds at his torso which weren't fully blade-mode yet. The bullets seemed to dink off him, but I had drawn his attention, and he swiped one long arm of hooks out, catching me squarely in the stomach with a punch. I was knocked off my feet and groaned - without the vest I'd have been spaghetti, there. Instead I'll have some serious bruising. I reached down and drew out a shiny, chrome device about the size of an electric toothbrush. I sat up, and saw another swing coming. Quickly waving the blowtorch in front of me like a sword, I powered it on at full burn and sliced off a foot of intersecting hooks and blades. Hookwolf's right arm was still extended above himself, blocking bullets from the APC roof, and as he withdrew his left I saw his look of horror at the mutilated hand.

I took on a fencing stance, and held the blowtorch before me as I took a few steps away from Hookwolf, in the opposite direction of the APC. He took the bait, roaring and charging at me, dropping his right arm as he ran and taking a few shots from Pete and Blondie in the back. It put him off his sprint, and I managed to sidestep a wall of reaching hooks, swinging with the blowtorch - when he reformed Hookwolf collapsed, bleeding from a large chunk burnt out of his midsection. He screamed with pain, which stopped when a dog picked him up and shook.

I ran back to the APC, tearing open the driver door and leaping in. I spun around to look in the back. Rachel had her feet up on the opposite bench, and a contented look, and I saw Pete's face above his dangling legs. "Let's go!" I shouted. Rachel whistled loudly, and the healthy dogs dragged the injured ones back to the APC. It was taking a while for them to climb back in - I ran out into the road and grabbed an armful of guns from the downed Empire soldiers, then threw them onto the APC passenger seat. The guys helped haul the dogs up into the back, and after a few minutes we were able to make our exit from the bloody scene.

Heading westwards again, I checked the time - 6.18pm - and clicked the earpiece. "Tattletale, the Empire are down for now. Status on our other operations?"

"Highwayman and Butterfly are launching at target one. Hold for updates." She clicked off.

I carried on driving until we were firmly back in our area, then circled a block a few times waiting for updates. After a few minutes she came back. "Target one is down. They're moving onto target two."

The tension was too much, so I started driving towards our ABB border. I felt like we were waiting to see how the gangs would react, and tonight would be a bit of a melting pot - waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it were.

From the cabin, I heard a booming roll of explosions from the horizon. "James! The team need extraction - the second site was rigged with bombs everywhere, they're coming under attack! Oh shit. That wasn't the stash house - they're keeping a Tinker there -"

"On it!" I called, then hit the gas.

"Oh shit." I heard her continue. "Oni Lee is there too. Hurry!"

I sped onto the street with the fighting, to witness a strange sight. The target was a tenement building and the lower floor balconies were garrisoned with six armed ABB members firing outwards, at Bennie and his boys who were crouched behind an opposite wall, taking potshots back. The windows of one tenement had blown outwards, and the air around it was glowing blue. Chunks of the road were missing or burning, another patch was covered in ice.

In the middle of it all, a back-to-back Mark and Violet were fighting an elaborate dance with multiple slashing Oni Lees, who were occasionally collapsing into dust. As one of the twins took an attack from a Lee clone, the other kicked or stabbed out, dusting the multiplying Lees.

The dogs rushed the Lees, giving Mark and Violet a breather, and the APC turret opened up on the enemy ground floor infantry.

I leant out the door. "Violet!" I pointed at the tenement building. "Get the Tinker!"

She turned to look at the building, nodded, then crouched and in a cloud of dust was lost.

One of the ABB poked to look above the balcony and took a shot from the turret. His head detonated into a black vibrating cloud, and when it cleared there was nothing left in it's radius. The other ABB started shooting more, but as we only had small calibre bullets there was no hope of shooting through the brick and hitting them in cover.

I made over to where Mark and the dogs were fighting an Oni Lee who had adapted his tactics slightly. Now a single clone would appear, lunge, and get tackled by dogs, while a second tried to reach Mark from behind who spun and thrust a baton. I cast a wary eye on the surrounding elevated spaces and roofs, and on some saw a few pacing Lees glaring back.

I levelled my pistol, and in the corner of my eye saw a crouched Blondie do the same. I kept an aim on the empty rooftop directly ahead of me.

Now a Lee popped in front of Mark. facing my nine o'clock, and took a swing - Mark dodged beneath, and rolled, swinging a kick at the Lee's head - and another Lee popped into existence behind Mark, but this time the Lee was facing my twelve o'clock - and at the roof my gun was pointed at, a crouched Lee appeared. I let of a few shots and dusted a clone, but saw when Lee next came for Mark he was bleeding heavily from above the hip. Mark lazily swatted him, and the clone dusted, with no more arriving for the moment.

We both turned to look at the tenement, and the smoking hole into which Violet had entered. The remaining ABB were still crouched, taking occasional shots. Bennie or one of his guys returned a few, and the targets' head exploded in a cloud of red mist which caused the brickwork to smoke and sizzle.

Mark and I circled the radiuses of burning and frozen pools on the ground and dashed into the smokey lobby. Climbing up stairs from a basement level and dragging a woman in goggles bleeding from the back of her head, Butterfly held a hand over her mouth against the burning. Mark grabbed the tinker and helped drag her up the last few stairs. I was breathing fumes as I tried to tell them - "get - cough - the Tinker into the APC."

I went to push past them into the basement. Mark blocked me. "We need to - cough - to get out of the building, man!"

"I know, I just need a minute!"

They looked at me like I was crazy but jointly dragged the unconscious woman through the building lobby and I darted to the basement level. Four apartments, of which three had their doors removed. I pushed the door to the final one and, arm over my mouth at the worsening air, took a very quick look at the bomb Tinker's lab.

Some components were clearly breaking down or combusting, and I quickly perused the workshelves dotted with hunks of metal, timer circuitry and exotic explosives. Some must have been triggered prematurely, and a full quarter of the room was now on fire.

At what must have been the core Tinkering area of her workflow were a few devices that were clearly Tinker-made. I sunk a charge into electronics as I swept up what I could, but it wasn't powering up in time for me to identify what I was grabbing. I could carry four devices - one a toroid, two metal boxes, and something with lots of lathes - under my arms as I choked back fumes and ran back upstairs.

Outside the ABB shooters had surrendered and were lying face down on the tarmac, shaking. I could see shaved hair and recent scarring behind their right ears.

Bennie, Rachel, the twins and the twitching, bleeding cape were already inside the APC. At a whistle, the dogs leapt in, and behind them the Blondie and Pete rearguard.

I tapped the earpiece. "Tattletale, we need Regent prepped and ready to take one, urgently."

"I'm online," I heard Alec reply.

I spun the APC round and sped off, more rumbling and explosions sounding behind me. "Regent, come out and be ready to meet us please."

I left burn marks on the road as I turned the final corner back into the Undersiders' street at forty five miles per hour. The patient was already coming to. Seeing Regent, I hauled the door open and waved him urgently into the back.

Everyone else climbed out and used the moment to take a breather. The dogs were shedding their foul and bloody meat, and Rachel helped to extract a few from the gloopy sacks.

I closed the driver door behind me and leant on it. After five minutes or so, I could hear the Tinker begin wailing in pain and humiliation as Regent took forcible control of every muscle in her body.

Deciding to leave him to it, I gathered up what I could of the stolen tech and started bringing it to my workbench in the armory.

Twenty minutes and five points in electronic engineering later and I still had made neither heads nor tails of the Tinker woman's technology. From the minimal circuitry, I figured the toroid as some sort of power gen, and the box with lathes was maybe used to fabricate the exotic matter used in tonight's detonations. They simply weren't electronic, and I thought I'd probably need a bomb-tinker charge to properly get it.

The wailing coming from the street hadn't yet died down, and I did find what Regent was doing slightly distasteful, so I rummaged in my pockets to check I had some money and started walking down the block.

The walk helped clear my head, and processed out some of the evening's adrenaline, and I soon saw who I was looking for, rummaging in some trash down an alleyway between two ex-textile companies.

"What's the good word, Sammie?"

He saw me and straightened, then started walking over. I pulled out a couple of twenties.

"This one's real fresh." Sammie took out a phone and powered up the screen. I recognised my OS background and he opened the messaging app. "My old buddy, he doesn't like it around here, got his stuff taken a few summers ago. Now he stays near Chinatown. He messaged me just now, said to watch out, says Lung is powered up and heading this way."

There. The other shoe had dropped.

I turned and started running back to the street, calling "see you tomorrow, Sammie" over my shoulder. Tapping my ear, "Tattletale, Lung's going to be flying down Allenby any minute! B-Dog, if you're on this channel, get the APC started!"

"Shit. He just got out the meet, and found out about Oni Lee and the Tinker. Hold on."

My feet slapped the pavement and I was gasping for breath as I reached our street, and saw Bennie leaning out the APC looking for me. Lisa came back online, "I can't get you anyone, sorry James, hold on ..."

As she tried to rally more support, I hopped into the APC passenger seat and checked out the back. Regent and the Tinker had gone off somewhere - hopefully he had the wherewithal to search for hidden detonators - and Mark and Violet had gone indoors to patch up. I had Bennie's crew, and an exhausted-looking Pete and Blondie.

"Alright, hit it B-Dog! I-48!"

Letting him take the wheel, I typed out a message on my phone, letting Grue know the events, and telling Mark and Violet to hurry up and put earpieces in.

As we were driving, I heard a boom drumming on the road behind us. I poked my head out and saw Tattletale and Bitch riding atop a huge hound, with a second following.

Reaching the I-48 intersection, I couldn't see any trouble yet. "Just go up Allenby, they must be on the low roads."

For a few blocks, we peered intently down each side street, before see long tongues of flame reaching up into the sky. "Oh, fuck. We might be too late."

We turned towards the street with the flame and looked down a dimly lit road. Flitting around every streetlight were thousands of flying bugs. The APC's headlights lit up thick clouds of dirty great flies, wasps and bees.

I got out and hurried over to Lisa, who was atop the dog with Rachel. "Have you ever seen anything like this?" I asked.

"This is a cape ... " was her slow reply. A huge roar sounded from a nearby roof and the sky brightened. "The cape is fighting Lung!" She pointed to the rooftop.

I dashed over to the other dog and scrambled onto its back.

"Up!" Rachel bellowed, and I was thrown back and around as the dog leapt from one rooftop to the next.

On the roof where the amped up dragon was fighting the bug cape, Lung was gripping the ledge and howling. I slid off the dog's back and the dog made a dash at Lung, barreling into his chest and sending them both falling a few stories to the ground.

Lisa and Rachel hurried to the edge and looked down at the dog and Lung, but I kept my attention on the bug cape, who was regarding us warily but silently.

Last edited: Jul 11, 2018

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DigitalSlavery

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Threadmarks 6 (Interlude)

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 11, 2018

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#16

An interlude.

How is it so far? Is it shite? Which bits did you hate? Did any bits not flow right? I keep finding spellies even after spellchecking, or switched tenses, or misplaced apostrophes. Sorry about that. Let me know how it goes.

Some lines are lifted verbatim from Gestation which is owned by Wildbow, and I challenge anyone to prove otherwise.

Monday, April 4th

Coil was leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled, cooly regarding his monitor where a blinking icon was traversing a road map of the city.

The target of opportunity was currently sitting at a red light as it made its way across the city to the Securicore compound in the east. It was supposed to be carrying a great deal of bearer bonds from Brockton Bank central to another of the company's locations, and as such had a small BBPD escort. Of course, it could also be a trap designed to lure villains into the open. The dual outcomes were his particular speciality, and indeed he had teams ready to rush over to the Securicore armored van and check.

But his powers were otherwise occupied, and he watched the blinking icon slowly creep into traffic. In the other timeline, he had told Tattletale to wait before knocking over some ABB card house - while in this one, the Undersiders had been occupied on the job for, he checked, eighteen long minutes.

He was getting irritated as the armored van had now crossed the wide central avenue and was continuing eastwards, and was tempted to call Tattletale and find out why the mission was taking so long. Best not, he thought, there'll be other opportunities later. Easy-come easy-go -

Continuity snapped for a moment as Coil found himself kicked out of a timeline. He floundered for a moment. This had not happened before. Coil could not tell whether he was in the go or no-go timeline and felt a rising panic. He took a few steading breaths and called Tattletale.

The line answered and he heard a few seconds of pounding footsteps before she spoke. "Hiya, Boss!"

He tried to keep his voice steady. "Status."

"We're fighting Lung, got most of the cash, we - " Coil had terminated the call. He rested his head in his hands for a second and willed his frantic heart to settle.

His radio crackled into life on the desk and he looked up. "Delta Niner to Eagle. Is the op a go? Over."

Hands now steadier, he took the radio and pressed the side. "No-go, Delta Niner. Over."

There would be more opportunities for money making later, Coil needed to know what had caused his power to glitch.

Tuesday, April 5th

At home the next morning, Coil was feeling almost back to his normal self, as his power continued behaving the way he was used to. Nothing else strange had happened overnight, so he terminated the timeline where he remained at the base, and split once more. In one, he dressed and left the house quickly - in the other, he took his time before leaving.

The first went to his PRT consultancy office, as Thomas Calvert, to keep up his day job. In the second, perhaps following some natural burrowing instinct, Coil sequestered himself away in the office of his underground complex.

There, at mid afternoon, not wanting to put it off any longer, he placed a call to Tattletale.

She must have been in the middle of eating, and was chewing a mouthful as she answered. Her pathetic attempts to weedle at him would only tighten her shackles. "Hiya, Boss, are you going to hang up on me? ShouldItalkreallyfast - "

"Tattletale, give me your report of last night."

"Well, the two capes you hooked us up with were stellar. Lung arrived part way through, which was pretty rough, but we got most of the score. Some burns and bruises, but nothing major."

"Good, I'm glad your teams work well together. Tell them both, I'll cut them a cheque if they keep hitting ABB sites with you."

Tattletale sounded almost reproachful as she ventured, "boss, we weren't expecting to see Lung - when you gave us the 'go' signal, I thought you said we wouldn't see him? But he went down after - "

Reality tore. It felt like it had torn open his head, like his skull was split in two. Coil fainted for a few seconds. There was no longer a Calvert timeline, only Coil, and as sight and feeling returned he saw the phone still resting in his limp hand. Tattletale was still speaking. He lifted the phone and in a weak voice, asked, "what?"

"The guy who triggered." Like she was repeating something she had just said. "Anyway, we got back in one piece. Am I bringing the score to your guy, or is he coming to get it?"

Coil was completely lost. "Tattletale, something is affecting my power." He hung up.

Something about speaking to her was making his power break, and painfully. He pulled the cloying face cover off his head, then drew a bottle of aspirin from a drawer and downed a handful in a mouth of whisky. With only one timeline, he felt vulnerable. He quickly split and sent the other running from the room to his driver, with instructions to head for the city's outskirts.

Another mouth of whisky, and he was able to settle heavily into his chair, face in hands.

Wednesday, April 6th

In one timeline, Coil remained in the office where he had stayed overnight, and in the other, he was clutching a bag of cash and waiting for his limo to pull up to the Fortress construction site's underground garage.

The door was held open for him, and he climbed into the back seat, where a newspaper was folded awaiting him.

The driver wound through traffic to one of the wide, crowded boulevards in the city centre. There, his driver pulled to the kerb at a corner, and Coil reached out to open the Limo door. Tattletale climbed in and paid him a respectful greeting. Coil pointed to the bag, and she took it, clasping it under his arm.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Coil ended the office timeline, and split again. In one, he said, "Those are a lovely pair of boots." She looked down at them, confused.

In the other, he drew a gun from between the armrests and shot her twice in each leg. She cried out in pain and he climbed around to loom over her, pressing the gun hard against her stomach. He bellowed, "ARE YOU PLANNING TO KILL ME?"

She was screaming and flinching away. "No! I swear!"

He dropped the timeline and sighed, looking out the window at the passing foot traffic. She cocked her head to the side.

Split again.

("I've been impressed with your team's work recently." She nodded, uncomprehending)

Coil darted out from his seat and grabbed Tattletale by the hair, hard. She let out a high pitched noise and he slapped her twice. When she bought her hands up to protect her cheeks, he punched her square in the face, breaking her nose. His face inches from hers, he shook her by the head, "WHY ARE MY POWERS FAILING?"

She was sobbing and spoke around the blood, "I don't know anything about th- "

Dropped the timeline.

Split again.

"Your hair looks nice, in that style."

Thursday, April 7th

Coil had set some time aside today to greet the Travellers' arrival in Brockton Bay. Fortunately, their monster had been locked away without major incident, and he was able to drop the timeline where they had evacuated the base and surrounding buildings.

During the afternoon, he was reading his Protectorate contractor identity's regular weekly intelligence briefing on the city's gangs, and was surprised to see noted that the Undersiders were being said to have bested Hookwolf in a brawl a few days ago. Although he didn't expect Tattletale to inform him after every encounter - his surprise was that they had managed to put down the volatile Empire cape.

He was further intrigued when 911 reports started rolling in about an armed Tinker vehicle moving through the Jefferson block, only a few minutes drive from the hideout he had provided the Undersiders.

For this, he knew a call to Tattletale was in order, and out of instinct split off a timeline where he didn't place any calls. His finger hovered over the dial button, afraid of the timelines collapsing again. Perhaps some security measures could be arranged first. He dialed another number. It rang a few times before going to answerphone. He hung up and dialed it again.

"Yeah?" A sleepy voice returned.

"Good afternoon Circus. This is Coil. I believe I shall be calling in the favor you owe me."

Coil passed a series of instructions to the cape, interlaced with threats against disobedience and promises of reward when the deed was done.

Then, a call to a different number. This time, he allowed it to go to answerphone. He waited for the beep. "Trainwreck, there will be a package waiting for you at location Zulu-six."

Finally, the call to Tattletale.

"Hiya, Boss!" Her voice artificially sweet.

Sternly, "Tattletale, there's an armored vehicle being driven around near to the Undersiders' hideout and you didn't mention it during our last conversation."

Her reply was lost as the walls of reality were torn down around him.

Armsmaster was waved through the police barricade and parked his motorcycle near the other emergency vehicles. His visor was already working through the strange field effects surrounding the tenement building. Outside the barrier, the onlookers were gathered into throngs of Asian immigrant families - exiles of Leviathan, and the tenement denizens, families huddled together looking stoic - and surly-looking, scruffy local street people.

A group of officers were gathered around a couple of ambulances, where evacuees wrapped in foil blankets were being treated for smoke inhalation.

Turning back to the building, he noticed a fire cordon set around a patch of road which was still burning. Apparently the fire department had been unable to extinguish it.

The lower floors of the building were a blackened, cratered mess. His scans identified acid damage, nanonic-disintegration effects, and a coverage of human residues across most surfaces.

He spotted Miss Militia stood eyeing the building, leaning on a long bulky rifle. She saw him approaching and shook her head sadly.

"They're waiting for you to clear the lower floor." Looking up at the building, "all these homes, ruined." She tutted and shook her head again.

"What are the witnesses saying?" He asked her.

She looked over her shoulder, to the civilians behind the tape. "Nobody saw anything," she said in a sarcastic tone.

"That's not good enough."

Miss Militia sighed. "You ask them, then. This was the Cornell University bomber's work, it has to be."

Armsmaster looked around the pockmarked site. "Not necessarily. Oni Lee has been known to use explosives, and Lung - "

She cut him off, placing her hand on his arm. He looked down at it, crossly. "Colin, don't be stupid. The ABB have had the Tinker right under our noses."

"They could have - "

She was huffing. "Just take the hit, Colin. Nobody is expecting you to watch over the entire city."

He didn't reply. If it was true, he would need to bring the Cornell bomber in quickly - that it was a Tinker in particular, running around his city, was the wounding part.

He needed to find out, and pushing his chest out, walked over to the barricade and the gathered crowds.

"Citizens! Who here saw what happened?"

Nobody spoke. He pointed at a middle aged woman with her arm around a boy.

"Madam. What happened here?"

She looked back at the building, then scratched her behind her ear and shook her head. At no reply, Armsmaster pointed next to three unsavoury individuals, with scabs on their faces and tatty clothing.

"What did you see?"

One of them replied. "It was the Empire that done it. The Kaiser himself came down - "

His buddy spoke over him, "The bastard Merchants were there as well - "

"I heard Eidolon blew himself up and turned into a - "

Armsmaster rapped the base of his halberd on the ground with a loud clank, then turned and walked back towards the his bike. Unfolding from the side a set of probes, he strode over to start taking detailed readings from the strange effects littering the ground, already anticipating the avalanche of paperwork tonight would create.

A short while later, he had narrowed down the wavelength on which the ice effect was propagating, and was starting to think up countermeasures, when he heard Battery's voice in his ear. "Console to Armsmaster. Civilian reports of Lung in section D-18. Lung has wings, repeat: Lung has wings. Please advise."

Armsmaster shoved the probe into the protesting arms of the nearest police officer and raced to his motorcycle. His eye darted to the "transmit" icon of his HUD. "Armsmaster to Console. Withdraw all PRT from D-18. I'll deal with Lung alone, over."

As he accelerated away from the tenements, Armsmaster was mixing a tranquiliser compound he called L-XII. The L was for Lung, and it had taken twelve development cycles to produce the deadliest neurotranq in the western hemisphere.

She watched as the people slid off the backs of the animal. There were two girls, who hurried to the edge of the roof to watch Lung and the creature duke it out, and a guy who approached her.

He was dressed in faded jeans and a white t-shirt, over which he was wearing a crudely cut wire sponge vest. His arms and hands looked dirty and he had a scruffy beard emerging on his bare face. She noticed the long chrome handgun tucked by his waist.

"Whoa, there." His hands were in a placating gesture. "We're all friends here."

He glanced over the side at the shrinking form of Lung lying splayed out, and the dog sat proudly on his chest. One of the girls spoke. "Pepper spray, wasp and bee stings, fire ants and spider bites."

He gave her a guilty look. "Thanks for stepping in. I don't think we could have stopped him ourselves, that far changed."

She said nothing, looking between the group and finally at the hulking dog on the rooftop.

Finally, she spoke. "Kids. He said he was going to kill some kids."

The guy rubbed his chin, still with the guilty look. "If it means anything ... operating on the limited knowledge you had, you did the truly heroic thing tonight. Er - introductions. I'm James, that's Rachel and T-"

"Lisa," Lisa interjected. "Don't be shy."

James continued. "We represent a community group, on the forty-eight block past Allenby. We've been trying to campaign for the closure of ABB businesses, and it's gotten the gang extremely annoyed at us recently. You were a hero tonight. Our community is calling out for a hero - please, please, come and pay us a visit when you can."

The one called Lisa's head snapped around to the horizon. The smile she'd been wearing faded, "Heads up. We've gotta scram."

The three climbed aboard the massive dog, which slowly turned back to the ledge.

Lisa called down to her. "Well, Bug, a cape is gonna show up in less than a minute. You did us a solid by dealing with Lung, so take my advice. Watch what you say to the Heroes - it can all be used against you in court. Don't be a stranger!"

With that, the creature leapt, hitting a fire escape on the way down, eliciting a screech of metal on metal.

Minutes had passed since her brush with Lung and she was starting to lose the shakes. She heard the sounds of tires spinning and a large vehicle driving away. She peered over the edge of the roof at the awkwardly splayed body of Lung, afraid he could spring up at any second. Finally, the rumble of a motorcycle announced the arrival of a Hero.

She heard the chink and spun to see a grappling hook attached to the opposite ledge. In seconds a tall man in power armor was looming over her.

"Are you going to fight me?" he demanded.

"No! I'm a good guy," she insisted.

"Name?"

"I haven't decided yet."

He hummed and some LEDs on his chest went dark as pieces of his armor powered down. He kept the halberd blade pointed at her as he walked to the edge of the roof and looked over. From the butt of the halberd, he shot six darts down.

"My tranquilisers have restrained Lung. Thank you for your assistance in subduing him."

She crossed her arms and looked at him incredulously.

He ground his teeth and spoke again. "I'll be taking Lung in of course, but still at large are his teleporting assassin Oni Lee, and a Tinker who may be the Cornell University bomber. I presume you'll want me to make no mention of you in my reports, in case it should get back to them?"

She spoke slowly. "I only did this to be a hero. Lung said he was going to kill some kids tonight."

"Then you'll make fine Wards material when you chose to join. Until then, you should consider changing your costume, you don't look much like a hero."

She backed away shaking her head, and descended the precarious fire escape to the ground, thinking that perhaps she should not rely on Heroes anymore. Perhaps there were villains more to her size threatening the forty-eight block community she had heard about from the scruffy guy earlier.

Edit - in case you might read user Hometruck's comment below and think he's mistaken. Originally this chapter said "Colombia State University" instead of Cornell.

Last edited: Jul 15, 2018

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Threadmarks 7

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 12, 2018

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#24

I hit the hay almost as soon as we got back from the Lung mishap, and woke early to another sunny morning.

DAY FIVE

Most of the team had been active through the night for long after I'd turned in, and the silence throughout the loft told me were still sleeping in their respective bedrooms. Mark and Violet were dozing on the sofa and lounge chair respectively, both looking rather peaceful, so I tiptoed over to the flip-flops and tried to not rattle the staircase on the way down.

Between the bottom of the stairs and the front door, I saw that to one side of the dusty warehouse was a hospital bed, a dark haired girl laid out upon it. Next to her, a middle aged woman was sat on a wooden chair reading a gossip magazine. She heard me and turned.

"Hi!" She waved her magazine at the girl. "I gave her another dose at five AM. She'll be out until the afternoon, sweetie." She turned back to the article she had been reading.

I leant on the wall and looked again at the comatose bomb tinker. Her skin looked waxy. "I don't think we've met yet? I'm James."

She glanced up from the magazine. "Stacey." Then back down again. "Used to be an RN at St Jude's before the layoffs."

"Take care." I shuffled out onto the street, blinking at the bright daylight. A few steps towards the road and I was surprised to hear the sound of children laughing. Three boys and a girl emerged from between the armory and its neighbor, and ran across the road chasing an excited puppy that occasionally turned to wait for them. I leant on the wall to watch. They all disappeared again, laughing, between two buildings on the other side of the road.

A whistle. I looked all around to find the source, then spotted Blondie sat on a deck chair on the roof a few buildings along, a rifle lying across his lap. I chucked and gave him a wave, he returned a mock salute.

On my other side, a few hundred feet away, the APC was still blocking one end of the road. I saw another figure sat on the roof, feet dangling through the hatch. He was leaning his back against the turret and looking at his phone.

I rested my eyes for a few minutes and enjoyed the sunlight, already feeling the endorphin take-up after the long winter. Thinking back, yesterday had been somewhat of a disaster. We had been forced to play almost our full deck - way too soon in the game. I took out my phone, and opened the web browser to PHO. Navigating to the Brockton forum, I read how Armsmaster had arrested Lung who was now in medical custody at an undisclosed location. In all of the local newspaper websites I opened, there was only one small column on the bombing incident, which seemed to have been lifted wholesale from the PRT press announcement. It made no mention of either the Undersiders or the ABB.

My attention was drawn away from the phone, as a Brockton Highways van came down the road and pulled into Jaycee's. After a few minutes, I could hear the drill of grinders against metal.

I was hungry but starting to get restless enough to do some work. It was time to assigned the day's charges. I had already decided to drop one into bomb-tinkery, so placed that straight away.

Other priorities... it was hard to know where to start. There was so much of a gap between where we were now, and where I knew we needed to be to survive - in terms of influence, intelligence, manpower - that I was beginning to feel daunted by the mountain before me. There were four keys to the hallowed halls of power: Secrets, Symbols, Loyalty and the Threat of Force. We had a few scores of vagrants and a homemade electric forge.

Let's just get through the day, then, I resolved. Today we'd need to absorb as much as we could of the ABB territory - and probably go against the other gangs, if they were having the same idea. It would probably be wise to start putting out feelers to the city's independent capes, getting them onside early. Also, I really wanted to start making some serious money today, and I wondered briefly if any possible tinker speciality could be a fast-track to billions from day-one.

Maybe I should focus on the basics - electricity, plumbing, housing, food - I decided, looking around the decaying buildings of the street.

A few more figures were emerging to the road now, hanging around shiftily or walking into Jaycee's, as they either woke up nearby or arrived from wherever they had spent the night.

I stood up straight from where I was leaning on the wall, faced the sun one last time, then made my way over to the Armory.

Country was sitting on a crate in one corner, sloped against the wall, his feet propped against a smaller box. A wide-brimmed hat was pulled down over his eyes.

I picked up a few stray electronics from the workbench, and tossed them front hand to hand, thinking about how to distribute the day's remaining specialities. Amenities it was; taking fluid dynamics to sort out the plumbing, and then putting one charge into electricity transmission.

I eyed the mysterious parts stolen from the bomb tinker where they rested on one side of the bench. Sort out water first, or this? Screw it - turning up the charge on bomb-tinkery to two, I picked up the toroid object and checked the filters between the detonation core and endothermic plate arrays. They were showing some signs of wear, and would probably need replacing in a few Gigawatt-hours, but provided I could obtain a steady supply of potassium-rich volatiles it should continue to pump out power.

The beta emitter device was too damaged in the fire, and the quantum spin inverter had only been designed with a few observations, which had already been made - so they were both duds. I momentarily dwelled on the poor design of the beta emitter - the capacitor was truly amateur and would have been 15% more efficient if it received charge directly from the input.

The nano-shaper - the box with the lathes - was mildly more inspired. I could appreciate the skilled use of micro-detonations to direct and form the beams that would turn most normal atoms to the kind of highly charged particle which were normally formed in super-colliders. The nano-shaper could certainly create one hell of an explosive - it looked like the Tinker had already used it, and I wondered where the output was now. Even a hand-grenade of this stuff would take out most of the city.

I could feel the images and designs of super-, mega-bombs start to rush at me, and powered down the charges to not get carried away. Today was supposed to be about supporting life in this part of the city, not ending it.

Water next, then, as only the Undersiders' loft was hooked up currently. Pushing two charges back into the reserved speciality of fluid dynamics, my power presented visions of weapons producing and using Mach effects to cause devastation. Not quite as interesting as that, I thought, and set out to find the water mains for the street.

First, I went around the back of the Undersiders's hideout building, and switched on the outdoor tap I had spotted earlier. No water but a rush of air sprayed out. The frequency of the rushes of air in the spraying sound told me the piping was probably sunk ten feet down, then ran out to the front of the property before turning eastwards for fifty-odd feet. So the main line was probably to the east of here.

As I walked to the next building in that direction, I considered how tinker powers often conferred a Thinker aspect also. The bomb tinker in the warehouse could probably look at any conventional explosive and know immediately what it's chemical make-up was, and how it would react under what kinds of pressure and heat. Armsmaster's power would have given him insight into any kind of closed-system, even if he didn't know anything about electronics. Thinking this way led me onto another question - is there a fluid dynamics tinker out there, who is currently powerless while I borrow his speciality? It felt unlikely, but maybe I could test with the bomb tinker later, if we decided to wake her up.

The next building was the one with holes in one wall, so I skipped it and continued to to the next. It was a factory I hadn't paid much attention to before. The outer door was heavy wood but rotten, so I kicked it through and after a quick dash to get the blowtorch I cut through the inner metal door.

The inside was dusty but otherwise undisturbed - it must have been missed in the waves of looters and scavengers that followed the departure of industry - and I had the feeling that the staff had gotten up one day, walked out and never returned.

Most of the ground floor was an open, airy space lined with tables on which sat row after row of sewing machines. Long fabrics hung from the hooks on the ceiling, and the tables between the machines were strewn with lengths of thread and patches of cloth.

The wooden back wall of the sewing area ran from floor to ceiling, and on the top floor a window showed a dark office looking down. Through a double door I passed into a back room with a few racks of jackets and dresses on coat hangers. To the side was a small kitchen area, and I went over to twist the faucets. No water here either, but the spluttering air indicated seventy-or-so feet of piping.

I needed one more to triangulate. Exiting the building, I crossed the road, and looked up at the building two doors down from what used to be Lansbury's Logistics, but was now apparently Jaycee's Chop-Shop. This one was a slim tall building five stories tall. The single wooden door had nearly rotten through, and again, a few good kicks was enough to gain entry. The inside was small - bare rusted machinery on a blackened concrete floor, and in one corner a single chimney flue rising the full height of the building. Through rotting floorboards I saw more rusting heaps on the stories above me - some kind of heavy clamps, a coal oven, a large flywheel.

A chipped basin was against one wall on the ground floor. Again, no water rushed out of the single tap, but I got the data I felt I needed.

Walking back to Jaycee's, I entered the open side door to see one man in mechanic's rags sanding the brand name of a wholesale food delivery truck, leaving bare metal behind. Across the shop floor, another wearing dark goggles and was bent double, using a noisy hand saw to cut through a thick axle, spraying sparks. To the side, I saw Jaycee behind the glass in the office, sat behind a desk. I walked over and tapped on his open door. "Getting an early start, Jaycee?"

He looked up from whatever he had been doing at the old desk and smiled to see me. "You know it, boss! Been an early riser since the day I turned seventeen and joined the infantry."

Easy there Jace, I thought, nobody needs to hear your war stories - "You wouldn't happen to have a pickaxe around?"

He stood from his chair and craned to look out the window to the warehouse. Pointing - "Yessir, the dummies in Brockton Highways Agency gave us one earlier."

I could see, leaning against the wall was the pickaxe, along with a couple of tool boxes and a rake.

"Nice work as always. I'll give you a shout when the water's running." He gave me a wave as I left. Pete was outside smoking a cigarette, and he fell into step with me as I wandered over to where my fluid dynamics power suggested the main water pipe ran.

We swapped out digging at hard ground, until Pete's swing collided with the ground to produce a metal tone. He cleared some space around the discovered metal pipe and I hopped down to take a look. A valve had been closed, presumably by the water company, but even wrenching it open again produced only a trickle.

It took a few hours of trial-and-error hole digging, with the occasional break for faucet-turning, clearing blockages and welding pipes where they leaked - but by eleven AM I had water flowing to the entire street at a decent pressure. My power told me there were still leaks along the pipe, far back into the city's infrastructure, but it was enough for now.

We had a decent work-crew going by lunchtime, and when I was satisfied enough to drop the fluid dynamics tinker charge I noticed my stomach growling with a deep hunger. I messaged Bennie to bring sandwiches for everyone, and put activated two tinker charges in the electrical transmission systems discipline.

Tesla coils, gigantic voltage transformers, radio towers which could bounce electric charge off the magnetosphere to fry a person on the other side of the planet - all the images sped before my eyes, and with severe disappointment I dismissed them all. I set the work-crew to laying cabling between all the buildings on the street, and tore one of the city's fuse-boxes from an exchange cabinet down the street. I bought it back to Jaycee's, to our sole connection to power outside of the loft, and began hooking up the makeshift power grid to all the local inputs.

Bennie and his guys pulled up with a bags of sandwiches shortly after, and we all sat in the sun to eat. The Undersiders were starting to emerge, and I noticed with pleasure that Lisa, Mark and Brian were getting more comfortable being without masks and costumes around our unpowered civilians.

The group sat around joking about yesterday's events and the ABB. I noticed that even with Lung in custody, he wasn't the target of any of the crude insults the group were letting fly.

After eating, Mark and Brian masked up to patrol in the APC, so Lisa and I headed back indoors to the loft. At her disdainful look, I went to the shower and had a good scrub. Checking myself in the mirror afterwards, the beard was still at the scruffy point, and not yet at the actually-a-beard stage.

Dressing in Brian's clothes (again), I bought Violet and Lisa inside the neighboring fabric company, and grabbed myself a jacket from the racks in the back. Lisa was impressed with the place, and guessed immediately where I was planning to go next.

With a smug grin, "She performs at two o'clock at the Boardwalk every Saturday."

I thanked her and asked whether she or Violet wished to come with me. Lisa excused herself to go back to supervising operations of the street groups, while Violet shrugged, "Sure, I'll come along. It would be nice to have more girly-girls around here."

Lisa faked a shocked look and nudged Violet her with her elbow. "Hey - I might not be 'girly' - but at least I don't need to paint my nails before every job!"

"Hey!" Violet shoved her back.

"Right," I broke them up, "enough of that, let's go, Violet." Lisa sulked away to the hideout, while we headed over to Jaycee's for a ride.

A stolen brown sedan was parked inside the back door and one of the guys swore to me that it had been rendered untraceable, as I grabbed the keys from Jay's office.

I watched him lift the metal shutter, gave the guys a wave, then pulled around the outside of the building and onto the road.

Violet was humming, so I switched the radio on.

" - more reports of super-powered destruction this afternoon after the Protectorate took in long-time supervillain Lung last night. But first, we'll be hearing, what is a pension annuity and why do - " I flicked the channel to some pop music and she bobbed her head, looking out the window.

I headed to the I-48 entrance, and a few streets before the ramp spotted a familiar figure asleep on a bus stop bench. I wound down the window as we approached. "What's the good word, Sammie?"

He woke up slowly, then saw it was me and shuffled over to the window. I held out a twenty.

"God bless, mister."

I rummaged in my pockets for another note, and Sammie hovered expectantly. I found nothing, and turned to Violet, who shook her head. "See you tomorrow, Sammie!"

I pulled away, and he hadn't moved from the spot when I looked back.

The drive down I-48 to the coast was uneventful, so I ventured into some conversation with the quiet Violet. "So, where abouts are you guys from? Originally."

She turned to look at me before replying. "Well, we're New Yorkers originally - but we left town years ago. Did you ever hear that song, 'I've been everywhere, man'? It's been like that since." She sighed and looked back at the passing scenery. "Since we became capes, we've had to move around a lot, never really getting established, y'know? Always trying to stay one step ahead of whoever the last score was taken from. And after a while, the marks started hearing that we'd arrived in town before we'd even settled in - so there were some hungry nights, always on the move ... anyway - what about you? Where are you from?"

I winced and shook my head.

"Still no memories, hey? Man, that's gotta suck." She sucked her teeth. "So you could be like, the King of England or - or Kaiser's son, or something!" She said, laughing.

It was a topic I had been trying to avoid with the group, because it was detrimental to building loyalty, if there was always a hint of suspicion. For a moment I didn't know what to say. "I - er ... it was not something I was wanting to dwell on."

"Why not?"

"Because, ... what if it's something bad?" I turned from the road to look at her, and she must have caught some glimpse of desperation in my eye.

She reached out and put on a hand on my arm, laughing. "James, don't worry, we're not going to hate you all of a sudden, just because of who you were in the past!" I gave her a happy grin.

She withdrew her hand and the mood in the car was lifted. My arm felt warm from where her hand had been. I tried to change the topic. "So - I just remembered, now that Lung's out of the picture, it's OK to go back to your and Mark's apartment."

"Oh, right, yeah," she replied flatly.

"I was thinking about what you said earlier, and how the Undersiders have their set-up - why don't you guys settle down here in Brockton, properly?"

She gave me a look and this time, the hint of panic was in her eyes. "The ABB will be out of the area, you've got allies not too far away - and you'll have me. I'll make sure you can build a life here. Nobody is going to threaten that."

She thought about it and we drove on in silence to the parking lot at the Boardwalk.

It was ten minutes past two, and halfway down the seafront, a crowd of children were sat in a large semi-circle around a performance of inflated animals. Their parents stood back, taking photographs and sipping coffees.

I took Violet into the corner convenience store by the parking lot, and loaded her basket up with shaving things, toiletries, and a few odds and ends. Then I walked alone out of the front exit, and waited. A few moments later, Violet emerged holding a carrier bag full of the items.

We did the same in a clothing store, where I threw piles of clothing onto her outstretched arms. She was getting annoyed at this point, so I set down the pair of boots I'd been eyeing, and walked out the front, empty handed but the the convenience store bag.

After I left, the security guard on duty accidentally spilt some coffee on his shirt at the same time the left entrance camera reached the end of it's 72 hour cycle and looped over. Violet walked straight out the left side of the entrance, looking rather ticked off.

I thanked her and put everything in the back of the car, then we stood around to wait for the performance to end, clapping at the appropriate moments.

Twenty or so minutes later, the families were clearing out, and I saw the cape we'd come to meet. She was holding an infant and talking to the child's parents, to the side of the performance area. She wore a black outfit and a white mask and apparently had no security oversight during the scheduled, announced public performance of her powers. After handing the baby back and waving them an extra-long goodbye, she saw us stood watching where everyone else had departed.

She called out immediately. "If you don't know, the Boardwalk security team are excellent at their jobs."

I smiled and shook my head. "Actually, we just saw your performance, and I just wanted to stop by and tell you how amazing it was."

"Ok, thanks, but I have to - "

"It's telekinetic, right? You can control fabrics with your mind? That's super cool."

"I have to go -"

"I think it's so cool, how you're out here showing capes that there's another way, apart from the life of crime. We really took the message to heart, back in our cape community group."

"Wait - you're capes?" She had a light accent, and sounded incredulous as she looked from me to Violet. "Why are you showing me your faces?"

I shrugged. "Like I said, we just think there's another way, you know? Anyway - look, I did want to ask you something, actually. One of the businesses in our community group is a textile company that's out of work at the minute. So we have a lot of sewing materials and fabrics, and my partner Violet here was thinking about starting a fashion design firm."

Violet caught on quickly. "Yeah, they used to make dresses, which had a nice cut but are a bit behind now. So we're trying to come up with modern designs, because we have the stuff to start making clothes right away."

Parian was quiet for a moment. "Will I have to unmask, too?"

"No, you don't have to do anything at all. This isn't a job offer - this is us asking if we can work for you. Would you be interested in running our fashion company, at all?"

"YES!"

Her and Violet high-fived. I gave her a phone, and details on where to find us, and offered a ride there which she declined, needing to take the performance animal cloth sheets back to her current workshop.

On the way back to our car, I checked my phone and saw one message from Tattletale.

Chinatown Clique send respectful requests etc for a meet

They're feeling the lack of super coverage and always planned for the day Lung was taken out

Dai Ling is main cliq dissenting voice against Undrsdrs. k done on this now. Call me when ur done

I climbed into the driver seat as Violet was entering the other side, but didn't start the motor yet. I was thinking hard.

"Well, Violet, it looks like you and Mark are the ABB now."

Last edited: Jul 14, 2018

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 12, 2018

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 13, 2018

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#25

The sun was starting to dip below the tall rooftops in Brockton Bay's Chinatown as we arrived at Mama Lee's, the restaurant in which the community leaders were hosting us for the meet. I parked the APC halfway down the adjacent alley, and was followed closely behind by the stolen brown sedan.

Mark and Violet were present as Highwayman and Butterfly, and I followed them through the kitchen's back delivery doors with Pete and Blondie in tow. The kitchen staff gave us wary looks, and pointed to the stairs off to the side. We ascended into a wide banquet room that smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. Some tables were pushed up against the walls, spare chairs were stacked in one corner, and sitting around a long, thin table were a eight late-middle-aged east Asian men and one very old woman, who broke off their murmured conversation on seeing us.

I noticed that the group were all sat along a single side of the table, leaving empty a handful of seats opposite them. One, the eldest man, arose and bowed his head, gesturing to the chairs in front of him. Mark and Violet strode across the room and took their time sitting down. Pete, Blondie and I remained standing behind them, hands clasped before us. The two men at the far left of the table were giving us all hateful looks.

The older man looked from Butterfly to Highwayman, and addressed his words to him. "Undersiders, we are most grateful that you have agreed to meet us, to discuss our affairs on this auspicious afternoon. I am Kenneth Leung, owner of this establishment. Perhaps we might offer you some refreshments?"

Lisa's voice crackled in our earpieces. "You should take it."

Highwayman inclined his head to the Chinese man. "Thank you, that's very generous."

At some signal from the gathered delegates, two waitresses entered from a side door. One was carefully balancing a wide tray of small teacups, and she moved from seat to seat placing one in front of each sitting guest. The second followed her, pouring green teas. They both left through the same door.

Both parties took a moment to sip their teas before the older man folded his hands on the table and continued speaking slowly in a mild Oriental accent. "Undersiders, thank you again for accepting our invitation today. If I may explain what we wished to discuss with you. As you are perhaps aware, our community and businesses were until very recently under the protection of the group calling themselves the ABB. During that time, the venerable Mr Lung was the guarantor that we might continue conducting our businesses in the way we are accustomed."

He broke for a minute, and Highwayman took another sip, nodding.

Leung continued. "Because your group have very wisely removed the ABB, this has caused to us to become concerned with both the local law enforcement, and the more disruptive elements of Brockton Bay."

He was giving at Highwayman an expectant look, and awaiting a response.

Lisa spoke quickly over the earpieces. "Don't say it yet. Talk more about them."

Butterfly had hardly drawn attention since sitting down. She hadn't touched the tea before her, perhaps because of the full facial covering of her costume. As she started to speak, Leung's eyebrows lifted slightly as he turned his gaze to her.

Butterfly was directing her speech to the elderly crone, sat one person in from the end, on the right. "Madam, we wish to hear more about the scale of your external networks. What, exactly, was Lung's name providing cover for?"

The old woman was giving Butterfly a shrewd look as she asked her question, then she turned to Leung and gave him a wry smile. Leung looked from the old woman to Butterfly with a grin and inclined his head to her. "Truthfully, we had heard tell of Highwayman and Butterfly, from your time in Atlantic City. A most formidable duo, it was said. Here in Brockton, Lung's name remained unchallenged until very recently, and I would not be surprised to discover that coincided with your arrival in the Bay." He paused for a response, then continued. "Of course, we have a number of cultural enterprises, as is our tradition. You may have already discovered some."

Now the second man from the left placed his hands flat on the table. His thin face was pockmarked and he was looking angrily at Highwayman. "Huai-jao! You destroy my businesses!"

The one on the far end leant forwards, wagging his finger at the pair. "You enter my casino, you scare my guests, you take all the money and break the arm of my guard - "

Pockmarked again. " - I'm closed now, past few nights! Tell me, what are my girls going to eat?"

Leung and the man to his left hushed and calmed the pair. "My colleagues Mr Ling and Mr Chen are suffering under the absence of order."

From the pockmarked Dai Ling, in a more restrained voice. "Under Lung, everything was orderly. Since you arrived, suddenly very chaotic."

"OK," from Lisa, "now you can say it."

Highwayman sat back and folded his hands on his knee, his posture thoughtful. "Well, it would be possible for us to take you under our wing, I suppose, if the relationship was mutually beneficial." His finger tapped his lip a few times. "We'd be taking a tax, of course, and assuming control over certain operations."

Leung looked thoughtful, then drained the last of his tea. "Of course, a tax is a reasonable thing for you to suggest. But, if I may, our businesses are currently suffering under the dramatic uncertainty of this week."

Butterfly asked, "well, what tax was Lung charging?"

"Mr Lung required a certain amount from each business per week. Regretfully, we were often unable to meet Mr Lung's demands, and he was quick to anger."

Wait a minute, I thought - Lung was charging a poll tax? No, no, no - that was the wrong way to do it.

A small shake of Highwayman's head, "I don't think we have a ton of patience, either, but I'd imagine we're easier to work with than Lung. That tax rate will be fair, for the level of service the Undersiders will provide."

Leung gave a slow nod, and waited for further demands from Highwayman and Butterfly. Seeing there were none, he reached a hand across the table, saying "then let us look forward to a prosperous and orderly future."

"Pff, yeah right. He's already planning on getting rid of us if Lung gets out."

As Highwayman and Butterfly shook the outstretched hand, I saw Dai Ling and his partner Chen stand and walk out the room, speaking quietly among themselves.

Leung kept us for a few more minutes of smalltalk - he wanted our thoughts on the upcoming Mayor and City Council elections, not that we had any to share - as the various conglomerate members stood and took their leave.

We walked downstairs with Leung, this time to the main area of the restaurant, which we saw was presently filled with violent-looking tattooed asian men. Some wore sunglasses, and others smoked as they leant close to their neighbors in fast-paced conversation. I saw more than a few sidearms.

Leung introduced us to one group of five such gangsters at a table near the door. He spoke to the group briefly in Cantonese, and they pulled on jackets and went to stand obediently near to Highwayman and Butterfly.

With final friendly goodbyes exchanged between Kenneth Leung and the twins, we filed back through the kitchen and through the back exit doors. Blondie and I watched the ex-ABB toughs clamber onto the step and shuffle through the back door of the APC, as Pete started the sedan.

I watched the APC drive forward out of the alleyway, and turned to Pete. "I'll be with you in one second," I turned and walked back into Mama Lee's kitchen. Spotting what looked to be a superior chef to the young boys scrubbing silverware, I grabbed his attention and made my way over. I made a few requests, and walked out with bags full of rice, vegetables and various proteins packaged up in takeaway containers. Then the three of us went back to the Undersider's home turf.

Pete parked in the lot in front of Jaycee's and I took a few steps, then started laying out the boxes on the ground in front of me, opening everything and checking we had enough plastic spoons and so on. Soon a good crowd had gathered, of both men and women, some clutching blankets to sit on or makeshift chairs. I saw a couple with the three young children from this morning. They were in rough clothing, but had an honest look - and I recognised the man as an employee mechanic in the garage.

It was almost dusk now, and I ate laughing and telling jokes with the people gathered around me. Someone had a phone running my OS, and was using it to play soft guitar music while we shared silly anecdotes. Afterwards, the children got up and started running over to the APC parked in the road. I saw a man get out the back of it and shoo them away. He had a gun slung over his shoulder, and the children laughed and ran away.

Parian chose this time to show up, driving an old black van with black bags stuck over the side and back windows. She cooed at the children for a few minutes before walking over to where I was sat laughing with two of Bennie's guys. I stood up and reached out a hand.

She seemed relaxed as she shook it, "I hope I'm not interrupting you folks' dinner?"

Everyone insisted that they had finished eating, and besides, it was no bother and she was welcome. Parian was holding the little girl's hand, as she and the girl's mother, as well as two others who were interested, came with me to the textile premises a few doors down. On the way, Parian pointed at the APC, and asked what it was. The little girl replied that it was where the troll lived, and Parian laughed and didn't question further. I gave her a quick tour and she seemed to like the look of the place, as she promised to return tomorrow morning and departed.

I headed down the road and up to the loft. I saw Alec in the kitchen, still in pyjamas, a slice of toast half out of his mouth as he tapped on his phone and I froze.

"Alec - where's the tinker?"

He looked up at me and grinned. I felt a tap on my shoulder. Spinning, the tinker woman stood behind me with the same grin. I felt an uncanny valley effect as my brain's social processing blinked at the identical body language on two people.

"Phew. Sorry, man, I was worried for a minute there. Do you reckon I can borrow her for some tinkering?"

The woman's voice replied. It had a hoarse, strained note, like she was missing some vocal cords. "Alright." Alec himself took his toast over to the television.

I led her to the armory, chilled by the blank stare on her face.

At the workbench, I turned to face her and leant forwards to look deep into her eyes, as though I would see Alec on the other side of a peephole. "M'kay, experiment number one - are you getting any urges to build a weapon of mass destruction?"

As soon as the woman began replying, her face became human again, and her expression reflected Alec's as she spoke in the same hoarse voice. "I already tried this - I can tell she wants to build something, but I don't know what it is. Her power doesn't work so hot with her as a puppet. Can't tell what she wants to build, or what it would do if she built it. I think I'd need her cooperation - " our captive frowned a little, "and I don't think she's willing to give it".

"Alright, not to worry," I picked up the quantum spin inverter and placed it into the woman's hands. "Experiment two. Any idea what this is?"

"Nope." She passed it back.

"Number three then. One second," I peered around the armory, spotting Country on the opposite side, who had the aerated steel cloth pressed over the mannequin's torso and was cutting more body armor. He met my eyes, and being a country gentleman, knew instinctively that the look was saying 'get yourself a gun'. I saw him lift one off the nearby rack.

"OK, Alec, drop your power for a second."

Her face and stance wilted, and she sank sit on the ground, face pressed to her knees, sobbing. I knelt down and studied her.

"What's your name?"

"I'm BAKUDA, you bastards! You gonna pay - " she lashed, her voice rough and airy.

"Do you want to build bombs for us, Bakuda, or do you want to go back under Regent's control?"

"FUCK YOU!"

"Alright, Regent." Her expression returned to normal and she stood up.

I left her there and returned my focus to the workbench, dropping two points into bomb making. I took my tinker tools and started stripping the beta emitter, quantum spin inverter, and the nano-shaper down into their constituent parts. Deciding to test the thought from earlier - "is she still getting the urge to build, Alec?"

"Oh, yeah. Quite a lot now."

I took the dodgy capacitor from the beta emitter and started fixing it up, swapping out one component from the nano-shaper. A few parts from the quantum device, and I had a decent power-sink that would probably remain safe in the event of catastrophic collapse. The nano-shaper was mostly powered by the right kind of material for the toroid-shaped power generator, and I guessed it would take an hour or so of grinding to get the coating into a fine enough powder for the generator to use.

The whole process had taken me twenty-five minutes or so, and when I turned back to look at the tinker, she was still frozen where I'd last seen her.

"Alright, let's see what she has to say. Alec?"

The woman gasped and staggered. I pointed at the components on the bench patiently, like I had all the time in the world. "Are you going to work for me or not, Bakuda? What's it to be?"

She screamed out a few curse words and sobbed, but staggered over to the workbench and started filing the nano-lathe coating from the device.

I made sure to allocate a third charge into the speciality as she got to work, so as to spot any attempts at suicidal mistakes.

Knowing that I had both two charges left, and two specialities remaining for the day, I picked up a laptop from the pile of stolen electronics and powered it up, connecting to the street's wireless network and logging into my cloud OS.

I reserved the disciplines of first modern coding and then machine learning, but allocated both free charges into coding to begin with. Returning to the power used a few days ago bought back a feeling of warmth and familiarity, like returning to an old friend. With occasional pauses to check on Bakuda's work, I began designing a new, highly intuitive language, with both an easy syntax and grammar, and strong underlying primitives. Bakuda was still filing away at the lathe coating, so I next began piecing together an interactive development environment in which to write the code.

I added various helpful features to the IDE: a lazy-mode evaluation would underline any chunks of code that wouldn't compile, effectively solving the Turing "stopping machine" problem. The next time I looked up, I noticed Bakuda had finished filing, and was sneaking looks at me - probably checking whether I saw her right hand reaching for the blowtorch.

I stood up and walked over to check her work, her hand darting back.

"Now get the power running." I pointed to the toroid, and she started compressing the dusty lathe coating into pellets for the generator.

I supervised her until the point where the power-sink started charging, then asked her to step away from the workbench to check her work once more. Satisfied, I asked Alec to take her back to Nurse Stacey and watched the girl walk off into the night, mimicking Alec's slouch exactly.

I sat down again with the laptop. It was trivial to implement a source control system housed on my cloud, so I worked through that for a few minutes. Next, I decided I wanted a web crawler, so put one together, and proudly synchronised my first repository with the cloud code hub.

I dropped the coding charges then, and noticed how uncomfortably I was sitting, so bought the laptop up into the loft. Lisa was at the desk as usual, Rachel was sleeping on the floor between two stretched out hounds, and Alec was still in pyjamas at the television.

Stepping away from the Undersiders for a moment, I tapped my earpiece and checked in with Mark and Violet. They were still with the ex-ABB gang, on a tour of the various gambling houses and drug packaging warehouses they had taken stewardship of.

All being well there, I took the laptop and sat on the sofa opposite Alec. He was watching commercials with a vacant expression. I pulled the laptop open and ramped machine learning up to two charges. I was finding two to be a nice medium, where I wasn't completely overwhelmed by designs, but kept a fair grasp on the technology.

Which was lucky, because the effect of the speciality was almost narcotic - I felt like every cell in my brain was firing in arrays, aggressively pattern matching amongst themselves, and everything I looked at was a crazy vector of mis-matched shapes.

I got a handle on it and managed to dial the effect back a bit, then decided to set the web crawler to finding audio samples tagged as human voices, where the sample had a corresponding written version of what the voices were saying. I directed the laptop's audio output to my earpiece and listened to a few, hearing snatches of audiobooks, pronunciation guides, and even a company executive speaking about financial results.

I set to vectorising the speech waves, and matching it with the written text, applying various statistical techniques suggested by my power.

With enough data gathered by the crawler, I instructed the program to try and match the sound waves of human speech to the written word. After a few hundred million iterations, I packaged up the model, and wrote some wrapper functions.

Now, it could copy any given voice if it had a few audio samples, and make it sound like they were saying whatever text I gave it. I had a few hundred iterations of "stock" voice patterns put together by the software. I picked one at random, and had it speak a few random lines from Alice in Wonderland. The accent was Northern Irish, and sounded like a younger woman. Another, the accent was that of a Russian man. These were the generics, the common patterns that the software had detected in the crawled audio samples.

Next, I moved to a new project. I set the crawler to gather data on capes, and keep tagged information in a datastore. The crawler would be running for a while across the PHO wiki, the forums, news articles, scientific papers, search engines and so on - so I set it to prioritise the Empire 88 group and let it run. Using a new set of machine learning algorithms, I traversed the datastore testing assertions and relations between gathered facts. Hopefully it would provide a sort of in-house version of the PHO wiki.

From completing the two ML projects, I felt a bit more comfortable in expressing generically the methods in which to build a model, and put together wrapper functions to do most of the heavy lifting, which I should be possibly able to use on days where I didn't have the speciality.

Finally, I opened an old project, the one that provided streaming audio data between our phones and earpieces, and made it so that an "always listening" feed was transcribing and learning what it could from the conversations we were having.

It was nearly midnight when I closed the laptop, rubbing my eyes. Rachel had gone, Alec was asleep, and Lisa was resting her chin on her fist as she idly moved her laptop mouse around the large screen before her. The muted television still showed commercials.

DAY SIX

I sat up. "Hey!"

Alec blinked awake. "Eh?"

"Let's go."

I stood up and gave him a shove, until he sat up yawning and went to find his shoes and mask. Downstairs, Pete and Blondie, as well as Bennie and his three guys, were all wearing a homemade body armor vests and had one of my pistols strapped. They all gave a respectful nod, and arranged in a rapt semicircle around myself and Regent by the front door.

I outlined the plan, and we walked down the road to the APC. Bennie, Regent and I in the front seats, the rest in the back passenger bay. Bennie drove at a good clip southwest, and screeched to a halt infront of one of the brothels owned by Dai Ling - specifically, the one which had not been robbed by either team a few mornings ago.

The light was on, out front. Regent and I scrambled out and made our way to the front door, followed by Bennie and his guys - and looking back I could see Pete's head rising from the top hatch of the APC, as he took up the turret position.

We marched through the heavy swinging metal door into a gaudily decorated lounge, where two old shirtless eastern men were drinking and laughing with each an underdressed woman on their lap. They looked up, stunned at our appearance.

We ignored them and continued past the bar, past a row of fancy-looking bedroom doors, and tried to ignore the noises coming from behind them. At the end of the corridor was a rise of stairs, then an identical but darker corridor with fewer doors.

At the end of the dark corridor, a small office was wide open and a wan yellow light shone out. I could hear Ling speaking, perhaps on the phone. We marched the length of the corridor, and entered his grungy office to find him alone behind a desk, hands clasped across his stomach. He smiled evilly, and before I could speak a black fog rolled over me from behind, burning my eyes and mouth.

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I was dragged coughing and spluttering into the dark corridor, where a retreating Bennie was firing shots over his shoulder towards the approaching black wall of fog. My eyes were filled with tears and each breath was racking as I was pulled along by one of his team.

A double door next to Regent flew open and two heavy skinheads levelled shotguns into the corridor. Regent was fast enough to cause one to miss, firing off into the wall, but the other caught one of Bennie's guys in the stomach and he crumpled. Then the already dim lights extinguished and we were plunged into near black. A huge bang sounded behind us, and what sounded like part of the corridor wall was smashed through.

I heard another of Bennie's guys screaming nearby, and reached out in his direction, grabbing the shoulder strap of his vest and pulling. Something pulled back. Regent dived, barrelling into one of the nearby skinheads and rolling through the open doors. Bennie shot the other twice, and grabbed his own shotgunned comrade from the ground, darting after Regent. I was still pulling on the straps the remaining teammate, and the weak light from through the open doors were enough to illuminate his horrified screams and wide open eyes, but not his lower half, where something was clamped and pulling on his foot.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled again, this time managing to drag him free, then backwards through the doors, which were slammed shut by Regent and Bennie. From underneath and around the sides of the door, a black fog was creeping in.

The bitten teammate was on the floor, holding his leg silently. Everything below the right shinbone was gone. I grabbed under one arm and heaved him up, to stop him from looking at it. Bennie took the other arm. The shotgunned guy was back on his feet, but bent over double, clasping his stomach underneath the vest. He was grabbed by the last of Bennie's crew, and led by Regent we moved for the divider door into the next room.

Bennie darted forwards, positioned himself to the side of the door for a moment, before nodding to the rest of us. He kicked through the door and levelled his gun into the next room. One boom and a shot struck his chest, but Bennie returned a few more and darted into the room. I followed, weapon drawn, checking to every corner.

As the lamp was on in this room, it was a bit brighter, and we hobbled over to the next set of divider doors. I positioned to take the room this time, but before I reached the door, I heard a scream coming from the other side. I kicked through it and pointed my gun -

- at two bikers rolling on the floor, covered with angry bees, who were buzzing loudly and attacking their faces.

We hurried through, then turned back towards the central corridor, opening the room's front door to black darkness. I heard a gallop of footsteps down the corridor towards us from somewhere in the void.

The bikers with the bee problem had fainted, or expired from heart attacks, and in the moment's stillness I heard the APC turret outside opening up. Somewhere around the corner, the sound of an angry insect swarm, and more human screams.

I tapped my ear. "We're pinned down. Dai Ling is still upstairs. Who else is here?"

Brian's gruff voice. "I didn't want to miss this one. Bug cape and I just saw off Rune, now we're under sniper fire. Bug's trying to find the shooter."

Lisa piped up, "There's already some back-up on it's way."

I heard an unfamiliar voice, "I think ... I might have him. The sniper." It took a second to place it as the cape girl from last night. "He has another woman with him. Yeah, they're both in masks."

The turret sounded again. "Rune!"

"He got her! I have a swarm on the sniper now."

I could hear the monster in the dark corridor blow through the door into the boudoir next door to ours, then smash through the external wall outside to the road. "B-Dog, get everyone out! Regent, with me!"

I ran down the corridor, gun levelled, to where Dai Ling was crouched in the corner of his office, hiding from the shooting. He looked mildly shell shocked as I hauled to his feet by his lapels and slammed him down onto his desk.

My face inches from his, "it's over, Ling. You gave the keys to our business to the Empire 88?" I shook my head. "You're going to call Mr Chen and tell him that you've given up, that the Undersiders have taken over here. Then you're going to pack your bags, get out of Brockton, and never look back."

He was shaking his head. "No - never!"

"I wasn't talking to you!" I dropped him back to the desk, and turned to give Regent a nod, before closing the office door behind me.

I paced the dark corridor and walked downstairs. Half-dressed women were clutching bedware to themselves as they huddled together, in panic at the chaos above. At the sight of me, a man ran out of a bedroom with his clothes under his arm. I went back into the bar area, and saw the metal front door was swinging open. The old men from earlier were crouched on the floor, hands over their heads.

Outside, Bennie was helping the wounded into the APC. The one who lost his foot was pale and silent, as two of them lifted him into the back. Pete was sat at the turret looking around, and Blondie was pacing the rooftop of the APC, peering in every direction. His arm jutted out - "there!"

I spun around in time to see a woman retreating back around the corner.

Grue and the bug cape were off to the side, batting the fog between swarms of flying insects and wispy walls of Grue's black smoke.

In the distance I heard a scream. "The fire ants just arrived to the sniper and the woman. Victor and Othala, I think," came the voice over the earpiece.

A blacked out biker van span into the street. Pete opened up the turret at the windshield and it crashed into a wall. Nobody got out.

We gave it a few minutes, but no more Empire capes or support showed, then two friendly trucks came skidding into the road from the other direction. Hanging from the sides were groups of asian gangsters and angry looking vagrants, some with basic guns, others with pieces of bare metal.

We transferred the guy missing a foot to a truck and sent a few guys with him to the emergency clinic. The rest began pacing the perimeter. I was still hovering nervously near to the APC, so decided to approach the bug cape.

"Well, that's twice you've saved my bacon now. And I still only know you as 'Bug Cape'." I wiggled my fingers.

She turned around to regard me. "I was thinking about 'Weaver'. And what's your cape name anyway, James? Are you the Tinker?" Pointing to the APC.

I gave her a grin. "It's 'Shadow', but don't tell anyone else that."

She cocked her head. "Why not?"

"Well, it's hardly a secret codename if everybody knows about it. Anyway, I promise you it's not always like this, here, we do get to stop fighting and have some downtime occasionally."

She looked at the building behind me, silently.

"Oh no - sorry, I didn't mean that. Look, Weaver," I scratched my chin, wondering which approach would be best with her. I decided on a degree of candidness. "How much do you know about the state of the city?"

She shook her head. "It's bad. Pretty bad."

"It's bad," I agreed, "and only getting worse. And I don't think it will be long before we're in an 'End of Days'-type situation. We're trying to get as many people through this as possible - I'm trying to build a network, that can help each other through the hard times and the harder times to come."

She nodded. "But you're Villains."

I shrugged. "I don't think it's that simple. Come and see."

Her, Grue and I took a truck and left, heading back to the hideout.

The streets were dark and eerie, all abandoned factories and crumbling warehouses. Until we reached our street. There, lights were shining from every opened building, and people milled around in groups. Now that water was flowing, they were taking up living quarters in the empty factory floors.

I parked next to a few vehicles in the lot at Jaycee's and we walked across the road and climbed to the hideout. Inside the front door, I saw Bakuda laid out on the hospital bed, and Stacey asleep holding a book, sat on her chair with feet propped on the bed.

Upstairs, I conducted Weaver through the loft to Lisa's desk, where she sat for a briefing on our territory and main concerns.

I left them to it, and sat exhaustedly on the couch. I was out in a few minutes.

The next morning, finally clean shaven and wearing new clothes, I drove across the city to get breakfast with Mark and Violet and catch up, before they turned in. I met them at their original hideout, where slightly nicer furniture than last time I was here was occupied by a few snoozing tattooed men.

As we ate, they gave me their reading of the "Chinatown Clique" - or what we hoped the public would still consider to be the ABB - and the various interests they maintained in drugs, gambling, vice and protection rackets. The Empire was the single largest threat that the new ABB faced, looming along its entire northern border. ABB presence in the city center had for a long time been thwarted by Coil's mercenaries, and they could not operate overtly there. Throughout the last night and early morning, unpowered clashes had been taking place between the Empire and ABB foot soldiers, and many soldiers on both sides were involved in the violence. Mark and Violet had been called to one incident in the early hours when Krieg and Alabaster tried to burn down a karaoke bar in the docks, but they'd run off the Empire capes.

I cautioned them to keep spotters along the border, and could see they were exhausted, so I let them retire and stepped outside. Being a Sunday morning, the roads were quiet as I drove to where I'd last seen Regent. The APC had been moved, and it looked like during the night the debris had been cleared from when the monster had burst through the side of the building.

Outside the building were four young ABB men, who nodded and stood aside as I passed. I headed up to what had been Dai Ling's office, and waited while a woman went to fetch Regent. He arrived half asleep, hair tousled, and with a funky smell. The woman tried to flatten his hair but he waved her away. I crossed my arms. It was time to have the Talk with the boy.

"Morning, Alec."

He grunted.

"So you finally have the job, and you'll be inheriting even more of the business from Mark and Violet. Now I need to tell you how to run it."

He gave me a funny look.

"It goes without saying, that if anybody in any way notable walks through your doors, you gotta have hidden cameras covering every angle. Anywhere public, where guests might speak, we'll need listening devices." I reached over to Ling's desk, and grabbed and pen and paper, jotting down 'hidden cameras' and 'bugs'. "Everything can go straight to the ... er, the cloud servers. I really should give that a name. And to Tattletale.

"Now, here's the basic honeytrap," I explained at length to Regent how his new business would be proactively gathering intelligence, to feed Tattletale and my own models. Once Regent realised I wasn't just dropping by, he roused himself and ended up paying wide-eyed attention, as I explained how he should spend this very afternoon targeting a married corporate businessman for blackmail money or leverage.

Then I clapped him on the shoulder, wished him good luck, and departed. On the drive back to the hideout, I listened to radio reports of the destruction left by gang violence along the Empire-new ABB border.

Arriving back on the Undersiders' street, I slowed outside the textile company, seeing that the doors were open. I got out of the car and could hear the clacking of sewing machines from the road, and walked in to see seven or eight of the local people working away at the tables. In the back room, Weaver and Parian, both masked, were sat on a couch holding mugs, deep in conversation.

"Hey guys! Good to see you!" They both looked pleased back, but it was hard to tell with the masks.

Parian answered "Hey James! Weaver was telling me that her costume is made of spider silk! And she's an insect master, how convenient is that?"

I took a good look at Weaver's costume, and she held out an arm for me to inspect. I thought about it. "That is rather handy. So, Weaver, what's the going rate for a full costume of spider silk armor?"

Weaver looked at me obliquely and held her breath for a second. "Ten thousand."

"Done. We'll take thirty to start with."

"What - are you serious? I wasn't really serious - I want one hundred thousand."

Parian laughed beside her.

"What's it take, anyway, to get silkworms of whatever set up somewhere?" I asked.

She shook her head - "no: spider silk, not silkworms. Preferably fifty thousand of them." Parian leaned away.

I jerked my thumb towards the door, in the direction of the empty tower building over the road, the old foundry or whatever it had been. "Great - we have a place nearby to put them."

She laughed nervously. "You really want me to do it?"

"Sure. And I really will pay ten thousand per few meters square, by the way. If you tell me you want one hundred thousand dollars, then I'll work it out somehow." I turned to Parian. "And if you were interested in helping put some outfits together, Parian, the same goes for you."

Both girls were silent for a second. "We'll work something out." Parian said.

Weaver had reached some internal decision. "What, precisely, do you want me to make? And how will you be paying for it? Because I know how you make your cash, and I'm not sure I want to take any of it."

Last edited: Jul 15, 2018

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#27

Parian was looking confused from Weaver to me. "What does she mean James? How are you making your money?"

I was quiet for a second. "Organised crime. With the emphasis on organised."

Parian froze. She sounded betrayed. "You said that you were a community group!"

"We are. Look outside."

"Then what crime are you doing?"

"Well ... I hesitate to say, 'all of them', but we can aspire."

Parian's head hung. Weaver was remaining very still. I didn't think she'd moved since she last spoke.

"But, guys, that's only one side of the picture. The whole world is full of gray, did you think we'd have it any differently? We're building something here - a place where people don't have to look over their shoulder every time they walk down the street, where they don't live in fear of mad capes implanting bombs in their head or burning down their house. That's the purpose of it, that's the end-goal we're working towards - and when you look outside, can't you see it too?"

I let it hang for a second. I guessed Weaver was probably getting a good look at all the civilians through her bug-perception. I knew that the hollow, cratered shell of a building next door was already filling with tents, some of which families were living in.

"I didn't want any of this." Parian was rubbing her arms. "I just wanted to do what you said - to run a fashion company - not ... all this."

She got up and walked from the back room to the main floor, looked all around at the machines and hanging cloth, then out of the front door to the road.

Weaver had still not moved. I wasn't sure of her emotions, it was like she had frozen. "I never lied to you, Weaver. I told you we needed a Hero, and by god, we still do. I don't think I can be that hero."

She stood up and wordlessly followed Parian out of the door.

The chaos with the Empire was dragging long into the day. The unpowered members of both the new ABB and Empire were descending into daylight shootouts along the major intersections of the city, and the police were recommending everyone in the affected areas to stay indoors. Brian and Rachel were out in the APC for most of the afternoon, dealing with sporadic incidents along the Undersiders' own border with the nazi gang, and I heard that across the city Mark and Violet had been scrambled to put down a Fenja and Menja attack on a Korean cultural center.

I grabbed a quick lunch with Lisa in the loft, and we looked over expanded territory maps which now included the friendly ABB turf. Lisa was already setting up informant networks among the Bay's Asian diaspora, and the most agreeable so far were the residents of the tenements where Bakuda had been based. A table at the back of the loft was piled with loose bundles of cash and some items of jewellery.

I wasn't sure what to do with Bakuda, so I asked Stacey to wake her up and frogmarched her over to the armory. On the way over I saw that Parian's beat up black van was still parked in front of Jaycee's and her and Weaver were in the front seats deep in discussion about something.

Over by the workbench, as Bakuda fully came around, she realised again her situation and I saw tears starting to form. I shook her by the shoulder. "Are you ready to do as you're told yet, Bakuda?"

She sniffed and nodded meekly. "Are you getting this, Regent?"

Her face transformed. "Hey, yeah, I'm here." The transformation dropped and she sobbed.

I peered through the armory entrance and saw that there were a few armed men out the front of the building, so I called them over, and asked them to keep an eye on the tinker for the next few hours. Handing over a stack of cash notes, I told them to try and do what she asked of them, within reason, but to not let her touch any materials.

Then I walked back to Bakuda and looked at her very closely.

"I want you to make us some hand grenades, smoke grenades, some EMP grenades - just simple, nothing fancy or too tinkery." Pointing at the guys, "they're gonna be your hands for this, and you're going to watch and tell them what to do. If they think you're trying to do something bad, they'll shoot you. I'll be back to check on your work later."

I left them, and walked out of the armory to the street. A cluster of young children chased an older boy across the road and between two warehouses laughing, which may have proved the final straw as Parian stepped out of the van and closed the door behind her. She started walking over looking embarrassed and I walked to meet her.

"So, James, I might have been a bit too hasty earlier," Parian opened. Weaver was exiting the van from the other side, and walking towards Jaycee's looking up at the faded paint above the door.

"That's alright, Parian, I'm sorry I didn't have time to give you the full picture yesterday. And really, I would never have asked you to get involved on that side of things, anyway."

"What side of things?"

"The cape fights, putting down the other gangs, the business stuff."

"Oh - no, I don't think I want to do that stuff. I just want to run the company."

"It's yours, you don't need anyone's permission. But - do you still draw the line at putting outfits together for us?"

She laughed. "I'd do it, but only if they're going to look good." She looked back at the van. "I'm going now, I'll think about this tonight."

I waved her off and followed Weaver into the logistics building. A few more delivery trucks had been sanded down and were sat to one side. Weaver was in the office talking to Jayce, so I decided to leave her to it, and finally do some tinkering this Sunday.

I reserved the same bomb-tinker speciality as yesterday, by dropping a charge then immediately taking it back out. I didn't want to allocate all my specialities for the day and forget about checking Bakuda's work. Then two other specialities which I'd used before: gunsmithing and automotive engineering.

I walked into the back room of the garage and changed into some oily rags that were hanging there. Then I found my blowtorch and tools, and dropped two points into automotive engineering, feeling the familiarity of returning to an old companion. The rush of fantastical images - hulking mechanical behemoths, armored battle-busses and so on - were dismissed, and I headed over to the sanded down trucks and started stripping the panelling.

Over the next few hours I worked on the engines, reshaped the cabins, added thick armor plating from some scrap, and rounded and expanded the back compartments. Then I asked another mechanic to park them outside the armory, and got to work on a flatbed pick-up, strengthening the suspension and adding armor plates. By the time I had done, another few vehicles had been sanded and stripped of any identification, so I got to work on those too.

The sky was dimming as I headed over to the armory. Bakuda and her minders had gone on a scavenging mission to rustle up whatever materials she was claiming to need. I fired up the forge, and sunk my points into gunsmithy.

It didn't take long to start producing more gatling turrets - for three reasons. The now charged power-sink, salvaged from Bakuda's lab, was running the forge at full power, which we weren't able to do using the existing cabling. Secondly, I already had most of the molds and casts lying around from the last run - but the greatest increase in gains came from my increased familiarity with the gunsmithing skill, and the designs in my head seem to have adapted to the materials I had at hand.

After bolting the first turret into the wide flatbed truck, and having Country load it with ammunition, I watched it get driven away to wherever Grue and Bitch were dealing with the Empire.

A couple more APCs were dispatched to Grue and across the city to Highway and Butterfly.

Then I dropped the tinker charges, and crossed the armory to where Bakuda was speaking dejectedly and flatly to a man who was pouring black powder through a funnel into a metal casing. Arranged on the shelves behind them were a few rows of grenades. I thanked the guys, and got Regent's attention, asking him to direct Bakuda back to the nurse.

When they had left, I folded my arms, and took a good look at the grenades with three shards into Bakuda's speciality. A good four in ten had been sabotaged in one way or another. Some were plain duds, some would explode early, one would smash every eardrum in a few city blocks.

I corrected her work, and put a couple more together out of the parts Bakuda's minders had found. One was filled with battery acid, and I decided to keep that aside for Hookwolf or Kaiser.

Finishing, I stood up and stretched. Country was casting a wary eye on the grenades, as though they could go off at any minute.

I was hungry again, but did the group did have tinker needs at the moment, so I shuffled over to the electronics area of my workbench and reserved the final two specialities of the day. They were again two that I had used before - electronic engineering and computer networking.

I started with electronics, and began working through a mental checklist of devices. Scores of hidden spycams made from cell phone cameras, hooked up to miniature transmitters on our video streaming frequency, check. Case them all in metal housings the size of a dime, check. Audio bugs, again using cell phone parts, with metal housings, all checked. A handful of adhesive trackers, that were good out to a few hundred miles.

Networking again now, as I made more of the signal boosters that currently blanketed the Undersiders' territory, for dispatch to Mark and Violet. And finally a whole load of earpieces, cannibalised from a big tangle of headphones. Now we'd have full data coverage of both territories and plenty of spares for when we grew in size.

It was pushing nine PM, to I took a break, grabbing some cash and driving through the local streets for a few minutes. "What's the good word, grandpa?"

Sammie was rummaging through a shopping cart full of junk. He spun and gave me an upset frown, but came over to take the outstretched twenty. "God bless."

I held out another. "Hearing anything strange, Sammie?"

He pocketed them both with a grin. "I heard Medhall are coming around here, looking for folk to take part in paid medical trials."

Interesting. I would have to look into that. "See you tomorrow, Sammie!"

He gave me a wave, and I drove back to the oasis of electric light in the dark industrial streets, climbing the rickety stairs to the loft and having to let pass a group of four serious looking men with rifles. Lisa waved me over. "Shit's kicking off, Jimmy, Kaiser must be going ballistic. Northridge is a bloodbath, half of Cliff Bay is on fire, and we've got Alabaster and Krieg setting siege to Jefferson Block. The ABB's toughest just faced off Hookwolf and Victor this evening, but they'll be out the fight for a few days now."

"How's our front line holding up?"

She pointed to the map behind her. "Across of the bay, the heaviest fighting is in Northridge. It's pretty close to downtown, so the Heroes are wrapped up in it too. Down here, the unpowered ABB and Empire have been going none-stop all along their north-south border," she was pointing, "which is where Mark and Violet and occupied."

"How are they holding up, across the bay?"

"Hmm," she checked her screen. "The ABB will probably lose. Most of the Empire capes are going to be there."

"And the ABB can't retreat into downtown, because of this Coil guy. What do we know about him?"

Lisa looked nervous. "James, we need to leave Coil be."

"Why? Oh - right. Your mysterious boss."

She nodded slowly. "It's not public knowledge, alright?"

"Well, he's as good as out the picture now, isn't he? Not like we need him calling targets any more, right?"

Her nervousness deepened. "He was doing a bit more than that. Although I guess most of what he promised us is obsolete now. There's something going on with him at the moment, he's been radio silent for the last couple of days, most of his guys pulled off the street." She put a hand to her forehead. "I'd say something has changed for him, and he's having to switch up his methods somehow. I'm not sure what - too many possibilities."

I nodded. "Well, try and get in touch to let him know we'll need to move the ABB through downtown." She agreed. "What do you know about Medhall corporation?"

She turned to the screen and pulled up some files from my webcrawled data-banks. "Brockton's largest remaining private employer, pharmaceutical producer, owns some patents for ... " her eyes skimmed the screen. "There's something fishy here, isn't there. Alright, I'll look into it."

Her phone beeped at the same time as mine. Regent was telling us to turn to the local news.

We switched it on, and watched the late-night newscaster present a special report on the Empire chief and local business leader, Max Anders. "Looked into it," she turned to me with a grin.

Jul 15, 2018

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#30

I was woken in the small hours by Pete and Blondie, who were standing over the couch in the empty loft nudging me awake. I saw that strapped around their vests, bandolier-style, were a few grenades each. Pete was holding out a pistol, which I took wordlessly, and following them blinking and yawning down the stairs.

DAY SEVEN

Outdoors, the spotlights arranged across the buildings shone on massing agitated groups of vagrants and asian gangsters. An APC rolled up, disgorging gangs of wounded who made their way to the tents, then loaded with more troopers and drove out again.

I headed over to the armory. The metal shutter door was lowered but the pedestrian door wide open, so I walked into the short corridor and looked through the glass to the office on the left.

"Blowtorch, body armor, box of ammunition and the three grenades on the top shelf."

Country pushed everything I'd asked for under a gap in the glass screen, and I loaded up, heading back to the road in time to see the technical - the armored pickup with the turret - come skidding to a halt in the street. The driver jumped out and ran to pull from the passenger side a slumped woman covered in blood.

I got into the vacated driver seat, and Pete took the back turret. Blondie climbed in beside me, looking every direction. Before getting into gear, I fished in my pockets, pulling out some devices. Sliding my earpiece in, I handed a tracker each to Blondie and through the sliding back window to Pete. They were already wearing communicators.

I tapped my ear. "Who's up?"

A tired sounding Lisa replied. "Bitch is still fighting alone near Jefferson Block, Grue had to go move his sister out the way of fighting on the other side of the city. I haven't heard from Regent. Highwayman, Butterfly - they're dealing with Fenja and Menja again. Over the bay, Purity is going nuts and we haven't heard back from Coil."

I didn't want to leave Rachel, and I didn't want to lose the north half of the city because an allied villain wasn't picking up the phone. "Can we get Weaver?"

I heard someone softly clear their throat, then the teenaged bug cape spoke up. "I'm here."

"Weaver, can you hold down the forty-eight block? Keep the area safe while I go north?" I would have to abandon Rachel. It felt terrible, leaving her to Krieg and Alabaster, but we had no other support in Northridge.

"I can try."

"Find B-Dog, OK? One or two of his guys might be out the fight, but the rest will help defend their own neighborhood in Jefferson."

I spun the truck into the road and headed for the main bridge across the bay, using the I-48 entrance ramp beneath which I had first met Pete and Blondie. We flew down the deserted highway, the occasional passing motorist keeping to the side when they saw us. From another entrance ramp ahead, I saw two black biker vans speed onto the lanes in front of us. We caught up to them at eighty-five miles per hour, and somehow Pete managed to fire up the turret at the backs of the vans. Returning fire dinked off our plating, and one bullet put a large crack in our windscreen. I sped up and Blondie poked his gun out his window, firing a few pistol rounds into van on his side. The returning automatic fire caused a chaos of sound inside the technical. I braked heavily and the vehicle shuddered, the vans flying ahead of us before starting to slow also. Pete opened up on their back tires, and I reared us forwards again, flying through the gap between them just before they spun crashing into one another and begun rolling. We raced onwards.

Two BBPD riot vans were trying to stay level with us as I entered downtown. After a few streets, a black bulky PRT vehicle joined the chase. I was heading north along one the main avenues of the city, and in the far distance could see a glowing figure in the sky shooting double-helixes of fiery light to the ground below. I was aiming to pass through downtown for Northridge, when I had to break to a skidding halt as a military troop transport rolled out to block the road ahead of us. The sudden slowing pressed Pete against the window behind me. Men in black combat outfits leapt out and opened fire from around the sides of the transport in front, sending vibrant red energy beams towards the technical and the cops behind us.

Pete let loose on the back turret, and some incoming energy fire left red scorching lines along the armor plating of the technical.

I turned the technical to face a group of them, and powered forwards. They began to scatter and Pete's rounds were dropping a few. I could see Blondie next to me readying a grenade, so at the last moment I wrenched the technical to the left, Blondie tossing it out the window where it rolled under the giant troop transporter. I continued turning and now facing back the direction we had come from, saw BBPD SWAT units and PRT troopers arranging in the street to open fire on the men with lasers.

The grenade detonated and kicked the troop transport a few feet into the air. I carried on spinning the technical around, somehow Pete was clinging on back there, and now faced the vehicle towards the gap cleared by the explosion, hitting the accelerator and flooring it past the remaining combat troops. A laser beam scorched through the back window over my shoulder, and continued through the front windshield, leaving a blackened hole. I heard Pete cry out in pain but continue shooting.

I was barrelling down the empty avenue, away from the roadblock, and turned left at the next corner to get out of sightlines. Spinning right onto the next avenue, I saw ahead of us two biker vans were dealing with trouble of their own. The Protectorate member Assault was clinging to the roof of one, punching the man in the passenger side, while what looked to be Dauntless was floating in midair above the road, shooting lighting at the other black van from his spear.

As the bikers blew through an intersection, Armsmaster's motorcycle appeared from nowhere and collided heavily with the side of one biker van. I had already slowed to let the fight ahead of us pass, and from our distant viewpoint we didn't see what happened to Armsmaster. I turned down an alley, followed a backstreet and ended up on the next main avenue. This one followed the coast, and as I floored it north, I took a second to look around what I could see of the city. Landwards, the tall buildings of the financial center occluded most of the sky, but I could see a fire was burning somewhere inland. To the north, a Blaster dogfight was taking place on the horizon, what I presumed to be Purity versus New Wave were leaving bright flashes like lightning in the distant clouds.

The north-south avenue I was race up was deserted. A few hundred feet ahead, two cars came streaking upwards from a side road, flying over the avenue and splashing in the bay. I took my foot off the accelerator, watching for this new threat. Another car came flying out, on a trajectory carrying it far over the water. Through a gap in some buildings I saw a blonde heroine flying upwards and towards the water, eyes on the ground. She looked to be readying to charge - when within a blink, where she was flying was now an man in power armor. He dropped out the air, arms flailing, and crashed into the pavement.

I tapped my ear. "Lisa, are you there? Downtown is nuts at the minute."

She came back a few seconds later. "Everywhere is."

"I'm slightly pinned down here. The Empire, Protectorate, New Wave, Coil's mercenaries - plus someone I didn't recognise. One or more capes ahead have some insane Brute throwing strength, another might be making people switch places. I think they just took out Glory Girl and a Ward."

I imagined Lisa clicking around her screen on the other end. "Let's see, teleportation ... I have a couple of tinkers out west, a whole bunch of Protectorate ... there's a minor villain from NY, part of a smash and grab gang. One of his team 'the Travellers' has some sort of quarterback throwing power. Sending you a link to the team page now."

I waited to see whether any more trouble would be spilling out ahead, one eye on my phone, when I heard heavy gunfire nearby and a booming explosion. Behind and inland of us, a deep rumble was sounding, and before my unbelieving eyes the tallest building in Brockton's financial district, the Atlantic Bank building, shook and began tumbling down in pieces.

I was hanging out the window, transfixed, and a five-storey high wall of dust and debris began racing between the buildings - I put the technical back into gear and floored it. Speeding past the block where the cars had been coming from, I saw it was surrounded by construction boards, above which rose scaffolding and bare girders. I read the large font on the boards in passing - Fortress Construction - building tomorrow's workplace. We made it past the block unmolested and continued north.

Another rumble split the air, and in the wing mirror I saw another skyscrape topple and fall. The battle for Brockton Bay had started.

We somehow made it out of downtown and up into Northridge, a community known for it's high presence of the asian diaspora in the otherwise homogeneous north Bay. Blocking the access road to the estate from the highway, an APC manned by shell shocked men waved us through, and we drove to the center of the community where crowds of displaced residents were clustered in a town square of sorts.

A distant boom and slow rumble, and the huddled civilians made a low panic noise. I could see Kenneth Leung in the crowd, trying to calm those around him.

My earlier plan of just evacuating any remaining fighters through downtown was never going to work, I realised - the Empire were going to be out for blood tonight, we'd somehow need to move the civilians too. I swivelled the dial on my earpiece, tuning to Mark and Violet's ABB tactical channel. Fast voices were talking about trouble in a part of the city I didn't catch. I dialed the executive comms sub-channel. "Highwayman, Butterfly?"

"Shadow?" Mark's voice back.

"Yeah. I'm in Northridge, where are you?"

"Trying to get through downtown. Everything's upside-down here, man, cops are blocking the roads. I've got V, some of the guys - we're trying to come to where you are."

"What happened across the bay?"

"Seems like the nearly all the Empire capes have pulled back north. I think the Undersiders are still dealing with some capes down there, though."

My phone buzzed, and I saw that Brian was composing a text message to me. I didn't wait for him to finish typing it, instead making a phone call to him and adding it to the channel with Mark. "James?"

"Yeah Grue, where are you?"

"I found my sister. We could really do with a ride out of the area."

"OK, but where are you?"

He mentioned an area this side of the bay, bordering the docks. Mark detached a vehicle from whatever convoy he was bringing, dispatching it in their direction. I was pacing around the technical, trying to get Lisa back on the line, and eyeing the huddled crowd in the square before us.

Suddenly, the power went out in the area, and the street lights blinked off. Another boom on the horizon and some screams from the frightened civilians.

The turret of the APC roared into life in the blackness, and I squinted into the sky to see what Pete was firing at. Long metal spears came raining back down, two impaling the technical's engine block - Pete had to duck his head as a third crashed into the road behind him.

I heard Rune's angry roar from a building top. "I'm sick of those FUCKING GUNS!" A burst of rubble and masonry was fired like artillery into the technical. A chunk of brickwork crashed through the windscreen, and Pete had to step down from the gun and take cover behind the back bumper as a clump of granite exploded against the roof of the truck. One or two members of the crowd shot small arms in Rune's direction, causing the rest to scream and scatter.

Another boom and the ground seemed to shake. Only a few streets away, a building crumpled to the earth noisily in the dark. I was bought short as a bullet hit me hard in the vest over my ribs, and fell to my knees gasping. It was a second or so later before I heard a distant gunshot. I crawled to the other side of the technical and hid in the wheel arch, next to a crouching Pete and Blondie. I pulled the vest aside to check my chest, still struggling to draw breath, and saw no blood, so I took a moment to suck down air.

From a side street off the square, a boom of smashing brickwork and the unmistakable sound of many feet slapping that I recognised from the monster in Dai Ling's house. Still drawing breath, I pulled a flare grenade from my vest and cast out the pin, then threw it in that direction. In a second, the street was lit in bright flashes of light, and I saw a woman who was running at us stop short and draw her cape over herself. Blondie was pointing in her direction immediately and fired a few shots into the woman as she was in the act of pouncing backwards, and she fell to the floor roughly.

By the light of the strobing grenade, I saw that Rune had her back to us and had moved to drop rubble onto the square, where some of the crowd had been shooting up at her. Pete was already back in the truck bed, and with a roar the turret spun into life in his hands. He must have gotten a few good hits, as the floating rock she was perched on fell crashing to the floor and her just behind it.

Above my head, the side window of the technical exploded out in a shower of glass, and in a second or so the sound of a distant gunshot. The sniper was still on us, then.

From the road behind the technical, headlights illuminated the square, and I spun to see a row of black biker vans parking up and disgorging bands of skinheads and bikers.

Last edited: Jul 15, 2018

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#31

Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.

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Topic: Brockton Weekly Discussion Thread (4/4/11-4/10/11) *Stickied

In: Boards â–º Places â–º America â–º Brockton Bay Discussion (Public Board)

ModisDead (Original Poster) (Confirmed Alive)

Posted On Apr 4th 2011:

Please review board rules before posting and remain civil!

Archive for prior weeks.

(Showing page 58 of 244)

â–ºbloo

Replied On Apr 8th 2011:

I'm saying the undersiders dont even have a vehicle tinker. its probably the merchants ur seeing

â–ºazeroth

Replied On Apr 8th 2011:

how cud it be the undersiders anyway. wiki says they ride dogs.

â–ºgaurav_m_bansal

Replied On Apr 8th 2011:

Am I going crazy or are the homeless people in Brockton acting weird?

â–ºLasersmile

Replied On Apr 8th 2011:

I didn't want to mention it but since you bought it up ... on my commute this morning the panhandler in traffic wasnt taking money, he was just snapping photos of everyone. Then the guy outside my office has apparenlty found four puppies overnight and was making loads of cash. ive been thinking about it all day

â–ºbloo

Replied On Apr 8th 2011:

Am I going crazy or are the homeless people in Brockton acting weird?

Your crazy

â–ºHometruck

Replied On Apr 8th 2011:

Its not crazy. I work for the city electric and had to go across the bay to look into some faulty lines. Part of the factory district is being blocked off by hobos with a tank. they all had dogs too

â–ºazeroth

Replied On Apr 8th 2011:

so its definitely the merchants then

â–ºBagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Apr 8th 2011:

PRT and police scanners are saying lung is getting worked up over something. Stay safe out there.

â–ºallSeeingEyexxx (You)

Replied On Apr 8th 2011:

It's definitely the merchants. I heard they have some new drug that is making junkies into slaves

â–ºAlpha26 (Verified PRT Husband)

Replied On Apr 8th 2011:

Multiple incidents across the Bay tonight. Oni Lee bombed some apartments earlier and now PRT are having to evacuate people near Lung. If they come to evacuate your family, remember to stay calm because these guys are pro's and will keep you safe.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 56, 57, 58, 59, 60 ... 242, 243, 244

Topic: Brockton Weekly Discussion Thread (4/4/11-4/10/11) *Stickied

In: Boards â–º Places â–º America â–º Brockton Bay Discussion (Public Board)

ModisDead (Original Poster) (Confirmed Alive)

Posted On Apr 4th 2011:

Please review board rules before posting and remain civil!

Archive for prior weeks.

(Showing page 156 of 244)

â–ºTeine Sidhe

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

cant believe the ABB are even still going without Lung. I expected the empire to have curbed stomped them by lunchtime

[USER RECEIVED ONE INCIVILITY INFRACTION FOR THIS POST]

â–ºnwkiam

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

i know i missed the thank you posts but I still want to say a big thank you to armsmaster for arresting lung. he was ruiningmy parent's restaurant by making them pay stupid amounts each week

â–ºBagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

PA: If you're reading this thread and not already at home, go there, unless your home is in Cliff Bay, in which case don't go there. the PRT are saying for everyone to remain indoors until the gangs run out of steam.

â–ºLo A Quest

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

why does this thread get brigaded every time someone mentions the undersiders? are we gonna talk about the huge dogs running up and down the I48 block?

â–º(Deleted)

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

(Post removed)

â–º(Deleted)

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

(Post removed)

â–ºallSeeingEyexxx (You)

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

I think you're sposed to keep discussion of undersiders to their own thread in the team boards

â–ºLo A Quest

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

er hello? this is the brockton thread and i have seen tanks and dogs racing up and down all afternoon

[USER RECIEVED ONE INFRACTION FOR THIS POST:

Please keep all Merchant versus Undersiders debate in the team threads. - TM]

â–ºBurningSaiyan

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

Well i've been saying it for years, its time to leave BB. earlier there was a gun fight near my daughter's school. Time to head to PHX where my uncle has been telling me to come for ages

â–ºAlpha26 (Verified PRT Husband)

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

HOLY **** look at the news. Medhall was the e88!

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 154, 155, 156, 157, 158 ... 242, 243, 244

Topic: Brockton Weekly Discussion Thread (4/4/11-4/10/11) *Stickied

In: Boards â–º Places â–º America â–º Brockton Bay Discussion (Public Board)

ModisDead (Original Poster) (Confirmed Alive)

Posted On Apr 4th 2011:

Please review board rules before posting and remain civil!

Archive for prior weeks.

(Showing page 244 of 244)

â–ºBrocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

anyone else completely unable to go to sleep knowing this is still going on?

latest from PRT is that downtown is off-limits while they deal with an incident

â–ºImNot TellingYou

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

i am working late at atlantic bank. there's a huge fire in the millenium theatre. I just saw this crazy convoy pull out from nowhere. it looks like blackwater are in town or something

/N0tR34Lz1ES

â–ºrkocour

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

No way, you saw the elusive Coil in its natural habitat. I never knew he had so many merc tho

â–ºbloo

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

just got back from the store and saw the fighting has finished in my area. there were ABB guys talking to the hobos. I for one welcome our new asian overlords

â–ºAlpha26 (Verified PRT Husband)

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

what -you went out? did you not read the specific instructions to stay indoors? and i gotta ask, was the store open?

â–ºbloo

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

yea lol this is southside they dont close for nothing

â–ºBagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

More reports coming in that the ABB have a new cape. Might be why the Empire hasn't been able to shut them down yet. Pics of him fighting fenja/menja twins from the events thread:

/D0m7Cl1CK

â–ºazeroth

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

looks badass but im pretty sure that's just oni lee in a different eye-mask. what is he shooting them with in the last one?

â–º XDarkOneX (Script Kiddy)

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

Last!

â–ºModisDead (Original Poster) (Confirmed Alive)

Replied On Apr 10th 2011:

Thread closed. Please refer to the main board to find this week's.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 242, 243, 244

The infiltrator drew a long cord from nowhere, and checking both ways, used it to shimmy onto the dark roof of the abandoned warehouse. The wire was returned to nowhere.

The darkly clad figure kept low on the sloping roof, and began creeping nimbly towards the brightly lit street down the block. Ahead, a scruffy woman was sitting on a flat bit of roof, eyes on the road below. The infiltrator moved silently behind her, reaching out to withdraw a blackjack from nowhere. With a swipe across the back of her head, the lookout crumpled forwards, and was grabbed by the infiltrator before she tumbled to the edge of the roof. The dark figure peered down to the dim area below and dropped silently to cling to the eaves, before lowering themselves to the shadows at the base of the building.

Two bearded men holding rifles walked past obliviously, speaking in low conversation with nary a glance to their surroundings. They passed, and the shadow behind them flitted down the alleyway they had emerged from. Crouching, the infiltrator stretched out an empty hand, into which appeared a small tripwire activated nailbomb trap. Starting to affix the wire to both sides of the alleyway, the figure froze at the sound of many light footsteps. The tripwire contraption vanished, and the infiltrator leapt vertically to place their feet lightly upon the lid of a dumpster, then vertically again to grab the lower metal poles of the fire escape. Suspended upside down, they watched a pack of five dogs pass, urgently sniffing the floor.

Dropping soundlessly to the ground, the infiltrator ran to the mouth of the alley and darted across a lit street into the alley opposite. Behind, dogs were already barking - so the black figure somersaulted backwards and around a corner, avoiding broken glass on the ground - and found themselves suspended upside down, caught in some wire. They began to struggle, hearing the dogs approaching, and tried to pull a leg free from the sticky netting, only to find it caughter tighter - and now felt the crawling feet of spiders on their exposed eyes and bared hands, forcing their way into sleeves and around their chin ...

"Oh dear." Looking up at the suspended infiltrator from the alleyway, with the dogs panting at her heels, was a dark masked figure. Her creepy mask had mandibles that moved as she spoke. "You'll probably find, in retrospect, that this was - "

The infiltrator produced gallons of water, spraying in all directions to try and dislodge themselves. One hand managed to struggle free of the net, grasping a small throwing blade which was cocked - and feeling a painful bite to the hand, the knife dropped, vanishing before hitting the floor. Now the net was tightening, and the infiltrator felt their free hand being tugged back to their torso.

The bug-masked girl was sputtering and coughing water, drenched. She held her arms out and looked down at her costume. As the infiltrator squirmed and tried to free themselves, they saw a cloud of cockroaches leap towards their face - suspended between them was a gray cloth, which covered their eyes and mouth. The world turned black and the net - now cocoon - tightened. Palms flat against their chest, the infiltrator was unable to make room to summon anything.

Unable to move or see, they fell heavily to the floor, and felt a heavy jaw grip one ankle and pull them dragging along the ground. More dragging and then moments of distant voices speaking. They were left alone for some minutes, then heard and felt the skittering of many feet across the outside of the facial covering, which was peeled back. The infiltrator took a gulp of air and tried to see further into the room than a bright lamp a few inches away.

A young female voice spoke. "Circus, I take it. I doubt the Empire sent you - so it's Coil then. And you came alone."

A pause and the shuffle of feet in the darkness beyond the lamp. A door closed.

"Whatever he's paying you, we'll half it."

A silence. Circus cleared their throat. "Shouldn't that be, double?"

"You'll take it and like it, once Coil's gone." Circus didn't move or speak. "Interesting. So it's not his money that motivated you to come here."

Circus spoke quietly. "That's not a path you want to go down, Tattletale."

"Hey, come on! I thought I already knew all the good bombshells of the Bay. Let's see, I'll just keep going, stop me when you hear it: your mom's sick and he promised to cure her. You're addicted to a specific Chinese mushroom that only he can get."

"That's enough - "

"You were fingered for a crime, and he got you off the hook."

"Tattletale - "

"Creepy pictures? He took creepy pictures of you? And just for that, you've been - god, he's really had it over you, hasn't he."

Circus was grinding their teeth and trying to flex their arms. Tattletale sat back.

"Do you know what he did to me? After he kidnapped me from the boardwalk." Tattletale seethed in a breath. "Do you know what he's doing right now?"

Circus said nothing for a moment. Then, "they're making some kind of big move. The base was being cleared out, last time I was there."

"Fuck me, he's cleaning house." Then her voice sounded very close. "And you know something else, don't you. Spill it."

Circus thought about it, attempted briefly to test the net webbing, then decided to reply. "I saw some of their briefing. They're going to kidnap someone in the suburbs, tonight."

The drive through downtown to Northridge was going to far too slowly, and Violet was feeling frantic when they had to double back after once more finding a street blocked by rubble. Beside her, Mark grumbled and spun the APC into reverse. The next turn led them onto one of the wide avenues through the center of the city. A huge black military troop transport was blocking the central lanes and a burnt out SWAT van lay on it's side before it, requiring Mark to slowly line up his approach to fit through the gap in the devastation. Violet poked her head out the window and looked back to see the vehicles of their convoy pass through and follow them.

Somewhere nearby a fire was burning, and she could hear a helicopter in the clouds above. The APC accelerated through the city, and Violet turned around in her seat to inspect the passengers. A few rows of their ABB gangsters were sat on the benches, loading weaponry. The closest saw her looking and gave a nod. A pair of feet dangling from the roof indicated the turret was manned.

They had come to another long highway, this time hugging the waterline. Somewhere inland, she could see strobing flashes in the clouds. Much of the road ahead was covered in inches of dust and rubble, and Mark had to slow as they passed through.

She could see a few blocks ahead was a construction site, a gap in the building line temporarily filled with girders. A human figure strode the top floor, watching them creep along the road.

"Mark - "

She was stopped short as a huge oval rose from the water of the bay beside them, dragging tentacles from the deep. Mark swore and floored the accelerator - causing the wheels to skid on the dust before the APC darted forwards. The droning roar of the turret started from behind. As they drew level to the construction site, Violet ducked her head to try and peer out Mark's side window at the figure on the roof. With a boom and the screech of tearing metal, a chunk of debris burst through the side panel of the APC and down through the opposite lower corner, instantly killing two troops in its passage. Over the water, a tentacle from the flying squid monster whipped towards the road, and in her side mirror Violet saw it grab the APC behind them and pull it into the water. Another boom and a hugh projectile tore through the back door and straight through the floor, leaving a foot-wide hole in both. The APC jolted into the air as the projectile exploded against the floor beneath them, and Violet heard moaning noises behind from their passengers.

Another tentacle grabbed a delivery truck a few vehicles behind them. It was filled with ABB troops. The tentacle whipped it into the air and let it soar, before it crashing down in an explosion.

Neither the monster nor the rooftop figure seemed to be following in pursuit. Mark was driving at full clip now, and she watched the squid recede in her mirror. Violet touched her ear, and called the squad leader channel for the convoy. Only three responded - and the third was still lagging behind them from having picked up Grue.

After a few minutes, the crested the hill to Northridge, finding the area without power and covered in darkness. Deeper into Northridge, flashes of light and gunshots indicated a battle. Mark had to slow again, using the headlights at full beam to navigate the narrow streets.

Reaching a dip towards the central square of the neighborhood, Violet was caught breathless as the chaos came into view before her. Below them the glowing rear lights of biker vans were occasionally blocked by the hordes of skinheads using the vans for cover. Some of then spun to look as the headlights of the APC lit up the scene. One side of the square was lit by fire and Empire foot soldiers could be seen brawling with civilians or dragging women into the shadows. The other half of the square was lit only with the flashing strobe of gunfire, showing a turreted pickup lying empty. Everywhere on that side of the square was covered in rolling gray smoke.

Mark slammed the APC to a stop, and their turret opened up on the Empire troops ahead. The twins opened their doors and leapt out at the same time - Mark dashing left, already shooting at the skinheads - while Violet darted straight right towards the shadows, tapping into her power.

Ahead, the biker vans were clustered into two groups, and subsequently so were the nazis trying to use them as cover to fire into the square. The further group from Violet were currently the target of their side's turrets, but the group on the closer portion of the road were repositioning and bringing their guns to bear on Mark. Violet ran low through the shadows straight for them, trusting her power to not make them turn, and drew her long dagger from its sheath at her waist.

Now at the base of the closest van, Violet rose from her crouching position, bringing the blade up also, and into the armpit of the nearest thug. He started to spin around, but collapsed gargling. A thrust out with her knee took out the hip of the man in front, who had his back to her while aiming. He collapsed over backwards, and her dropping elbow she sent his head cracking off the back lip of the van.

A few darting steps forward, and she dropped into a spinning kick with her blade extended, and in one low thrust placed both the knife into the guts of one and the point of her foot into the chest of a second.

The other two vehicles of the ABB convoy arrived and pulled adjacent to where their APC had been left. Men dropped from the back of anonymous-looking delivery trucks, and ran towards the dark square ahead. Violet leapt aside before friendly fire was turned on the biker vans behind which she had been crouching.

Finding the moment to dart across the road, she took a second to look into the square - potted plants and trees were playing host to a shootout between ABB and Empire gangs. She tapped my ear to the channel they had James on earlier.

"Shadow? James? Are you down there?"

She heard coughing from behind the turreted pickup in the dark and started running over. In a strange double-audio, she heard his voice in the darkness before her and over the earpiece at the same time - "No! Stay back, there's a - "

The sensation of being punched hard in the lungs, then the heat and dampness of blood on her stomach, then the rising ground, all before the pain arrived. And a second or so later, before she blacked out, the rumble of a distant gunshot.

Last edited: Jul 18, 2018

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 16, 2018

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The backup from Mark and Violet and the ABB squads couldn't have come at a better time.

We had somehow held on as the Empire moved into the square, crouched and shooting from behind cover of the technical, but the Empire were overwhelming us more with every minute. Pete and Blondie were injured and wheezing, running low on grenades, occasionally leaning out to pepper the Empire gangs with a few rounds.

I could see the skinheads at the top of the road were turning to deal with Mark picking them off from behind, then their turret began firing and groups of friendly ABB gangsters were moving into the square. "Shadow? James? Are you down there?"

I hoped she wouldn't run over here. I took a breath to reply and caught smoke, making me cough. Poking my head out of cover, in the dim light I saw she had dropped her power and her dark form was coming straight towards us. "No! Stay back, there's a sniper!" She was already hitting the ground. "NO!"

I ran into the road, overtaken by a smoke grenade tossed out from Pete. Violet was face down - I flipped her over and saw a gory hole in her lower chest. The sounds and chaos of combat around me were dimmed. Bio-tinker, five charges!

Entire mental immersion in the weakening lifeform in my arms. Footsteps running by, bullets flying over my head and the fiery boom of grenades were lost in the focus on the dimming heartbeat in Violet's chest.

I cracked the ribcage and plunged my hand through the bullet hole. Fragments of the bullet had shattered within her chest and scored ruinous lines through the heart and lungs. The heart I held closed and squeezed, trying to keep pressure as I pumped. I had to break more ribs to get my other hand in. Hardly realising what I was doing as the blowtorch in my other hand was cauterising floppy lung tissue. From the cracked rib I sucked marrow and spat the stem-cell rich fluids onto the burned lung tissue. A corner of my awareness saw Mark fall to his knees beside me and heave, but he was in otherwise non-desperate health so I blocked him out. An elbow pressed into Violet's abdomen, stimulating the cycle of lymphatic relaxants from her lower liver, to reduce the trauma shock building around her spinal column.

Dawn found the Northridge neighborhood unconquered but under siege. Squads of ABB clearing building to building had flushed out Victor, the Empire's sniper, but apart from Rune and Night we hadn't claimed any more big Empire names in Northridge. In the town square, the dead from both sides were stacked behind the ruined technical. The community hall was filled with survivors of all ages, and the wounded. I had tried to triage the injuries once Violet stabilised but now sat on the floor, back to the wall, next to the blankets where she was laid out comatose, holding one of her hands while resting my eyes. Across from me, Mark held the other, leaning on the wall.

I stirred when the daylight touched my eyelids and opened them, momentarily at a loss. We were in the corner of a small gymnasium or fitness hall. Beneath the wide bay windows, shrouded or bloody figures were sleeping on blankets after my hasty and bloody surgeries.

I looked down at the limp hand clutched in my own, trying to piece together the process of fixing her body that I'd taken during the previous hours. I put a single charge into the bio-speciality. Violet's hand seemed to drum a rhythm through my own.

The incisions I had made were clean, after a fashion, and even the rib breaks had been made across microfractures already existing from her years of fighting. Even the makeshift stitches have been carefully done. Technically she'd be back on her feet in days and would recover from secondary effects in a few weeks, but I felt like if my own feelings were anything, the psychological damage would take a lot longer. I couldn't help but replay the vision of her running out and falling, the same sick ball of worry in my stomach as the first time it happened. Why hadn't I told them sooner about the sniper? Why didn't I give them a running commentary of which capes are present during their drive to Northridge? What was with the cough - the cough that got Violet shot.

Then two other scenes came to me. My first morning after Lung, as I emerged from the spare room in their apartment, and saw her sitting before the window on the laptop. She had grinned a sweet smile when she saw I had woken up, and made me a coffee. Then the drive to see Parian at the boardwalk, when she'd put her hand on my arm and told me not to worry. It might even be the same hand in mine now.

I wallowed for a minute more, then found the strength to look around the room again. Mark was breathing softly from the other side of Violet, her hand held in his arms as they were folded across his chest.

I placed Violet's hand gently on her blanket and crept out the gym, trying to close the door without it slamming. In the main lobby of the community center, a group of ABB guys were in a tight circle talking by the door, while to one side I saw Kenneth Leung with his arms around and old man who was crying quietly.

I took a steadying breath and went over to the young gangsters, and they respectfully made a space in the circle. "How's our perimeter?"

A guy with sunglasses and a tattooed neck replied. "The Empire have the highway blocked and are growing in numbers, out there. The PRT tried to clear them off before dawn, but they retreated."

I nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, and strode outside to the weak daylight in the square. Some isolated fires were still smouldering. Tapping my ear, "Lisa, what's going on across the bay?"

"James - I'm so sorry. How is she?"

"Stable, but I had to replace a lot of blood with ... substitutes."

"Stop blaming yourself, James." She spoke softly, sounded exhausted. "It seems quiet now; Bitch caught Krieg and Alabaster a few hours ago, and you don't want to know what she did to them - they're retiring from the Empire. On the home front, Weaver caught a Coil spy - in her web - and I've been watching the forums, Coil's mercs have been fighting their way out of the Placid Lake suburb for the past few hours. That's the super upper class area, the Mayor lives there, so the Protectorate have been tied up dealing with him. The news is going crazy about the buildings coming down, downtown - seem like it was Coil's cover for his escape from the city."

"Wow ... What are you doing with the spy?"

"They seem persuadable."

"There's always Regent."

"Yeah. And there?"

"I think the Empire are gathering on the highway. We're pinned down here."

"I can start moving people north, across the bay then."

"Do it. So Coil has left downtown, now?"

"He'll be in the breeze soon, if he isn't already."

"The New Yorkers, the ... Travellers. They're parked on a construction site downtown, going ape at everyone coming past."

"Which construction site?"

"Some office block on Maritime Avenue."

"That was Coil's main base. Oh - James, I didn't need this, at this time of day. Can I come back to you? Either they're camping now that Coil moved out, or he set them up there earlier, or something ... don't ask me now."

I could see Grue shuffling around the far corner of the square, a bundle of rifles held between his arms and was kicking at the ashes. He saw me and started lumbering over. "Alright. Use the web crawler, see what it's got on Coil."

"Urgh. Fine. My poor head. Who do you want me to send over the bay?"

"Bitch and Weaver. B-Dog. Anyone who can hold a gun."

"Going now."

"Bye".

Brian had arrived over and dumped the rifles in a pile on the ground. "Hey James. We were just winding down."

"Yeah. So this probably wasn't the best place for you guys to evacuate to."

"You should have seen the docks, the whole neighborhood was getting trashed as we left. We were lucky to even get the ride." His head snapped round, and seemed to be staring into empty space. "Aisha!"

"HI!" A booming voice inches from my ear. "Are you Brian's shadowy adoption boss?"

I was not in the mood for Stranger-games - and besides, was mostly immune since Violet had been doing it to me all week. I heard a note of anger in my voice which I wasn't aware of feeling. "Welcome to the team. Get your earpiece, and follow any instructions."

Brian half reached out a hand. "I'm sorry, James - Aisha, give it a rest! - she's just a bit excited about being a cape."

I nodded once at him and walked into the building lobby (hearing her fake-whispering to Brian, "he's a dick!"), giving a beckoning wave to the guys hanging around the doorway. We spent a few minute going room to room in the community center, and found an office with two desktop PCs and a couple of whiteboards. A cassette radio rested on the window sill. Next door in a handyman's closet was an old toolbelt with some screwdrivers.

Thirty minutes and two spent Tinker specialities later, I was forcing open the office window and praying my little creations would survive the wind. The old desktop fans had been repurposed into drone propulsion, and I'd overclocked their spin to provide lift for the PCs' webcams and enough network chips to stream video and remote guidance. Two little buzzing drones lifted from my outstretched hands and rose noisily to their preprogrammed minimum height. I took out my phone and gave them a destination point, high above the highway.

I watched on the little screen as they passed over ruined buildings and blackened businesses. The drones occasionally glimpsed the friendly APCs patrolling the ruins, but none of their gunners saw their distant observers. Where the neighborhood met the highway, there were four burnt biker vans and a two delivery trucks scattered across the road. A few hundred feet past the wreckage, a giant circle of vans parked across both lanes. I could see many figures clustered in the center, clearly in the middle of a pep rally of some sort.

A plan was forming in my mind to hit them simultaneously, by both the incoming north-bound Weaver and Bitch group, and us sallying from the Northridge siege. It relied on very sharp timing, and we'd need to leave them some escape route to stop the capes present from feeling they were in a fight to the death. I dialed the earpiece to the Undersider's tactical channel, and heard Bennie mid-sentence explaining a route to someone. I let him finish, then spoke. "Hey, who's on this channel?"

Weaver replied. "A couple of us in the vans, just getting onto I-48 now."

"Cool, give me a ring when you get into downtown, and stay away from the coast. I think I have a plan."

Last edited: Jul 16, 2018

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#37

DXDragon said:

Wow, this update really quickly.

Escalation seems to be the name of the game, huh? I was hoping he might've had a week or 2 before the fires started. Hopefully they can consolidate everything and lay low until he tech's up everyone with armor, weapons, etc.

I wanted to get that prior one out before you finished reading the thread, to surprise you :)

Here's some more

Mark found me in the deserted smouldering square, arms deep in the guts of the technical.

He hesitated, watching me for a second. I could see that his eyes were red, so went over and hugged him, greasy hands and all. "She's gonna be alright, Mark."

He drew a snivelling breath and clapped me on the back, then pulled out of the hug, all business. "We have to hit the road, bro. Gotta get out of here, go south for a while."

"The ABB - "

"No, fuck the ABB, man - oh, I don't know." He let out a deep breath. "I just want her to wake up."

I pulled him into a hug again for a second because I did too, then drew out my phone and showed him the feed from above the highway. "We have to finish this, Mark. If we leave, those bastards are going to do here what they've been doing all over the city. Plus, we lose the north shore of the bay."

He sat heavily on the bumper of the technical, back to the engine, and lowered his head to his hands. "We're not Heroes, though. Where are the cops? The Protectorate?"

"All over the place, probably. You know as well as most, what's been going on the past 36 hours."

He kicked a stone through the dust and rubble. "Alright, so what's the plan then?"

I passed the phone over and let him peer at the hundreds of rallying bikers and skinheads. "Well, we wait for backup, then we run out and kick some Nazi ass."

"That's it?"

"What else do we need?"

It had taken Weaver and co. a while to circle around the chaos of downtown, avoiding Maritime Avenue. She called from the backstreets of a neighborhood a mile or two away, catching me using the time to spray digital-style camouflage onto the vehicles, having spent a fourth speciality for the day.

We had ready to go the APC that the twins had arrived in; a temporarily functional technical (spikes through the engine block, courtesy of Rune, now removed) and two delivery trucks which the ABB had bought. I found Pete and Blondie, both lightly bandaged, catching forty winks in some kind of coffee room at the back of the community center, and rustled them out into the square with the rest of the ABB fighters.

We had perhaps fifteen ABB men still standing, plus Brian, Mark and my guys - between us were two smoke grenades, one explosive grenade, and the especially strong acid bomb I had been saving for Hookwolf or Kaiser. Everybody looked tired or glum, but this next part didn't sound too bad to me. "Well, guys, it's been a tough night, but now we get the pay-off. Not many people have gotten to be where we are now, so thanks for joining me in this." One or two glanced up from their fallen stares. "Yep, we have the world's stupidest Nazis, huddling like literal fish in a barrel. And now we get to play: how many can you kill? Winner gets a thousand dollars. And turret kills count for half each, obviously." A couple of chuckles from the group. "I don't know what you're all so miserable for. Have you ever seen fifteen thousand bees just go sick at a guy? Or a six-hundred pound dog, rip a man from his skinhead to his - " the wind blew over the last word, but the gang were now laughing, and thrusting their guns in the air. "You're gonna have to work for your thousand bucks, boys!"

A cheer, and I directed three ABB into the technical, then Pete, Blondie and some guys into the APC, leaving Brian, Mark, the rest of the ABB and I in the vans. I kept the capes in one van, and the gang in the other. Then, trying to synchronise our movements with Weaver over the earpiece, we crept out and through the ruined neighborhood to the highway.

Our slow convoy navigated through the blackened streets. It was cramped in the wide truck cabin, even though only Mark, Brian and I were sat on the long seat. I took out my phone and summoned a drone over to watch us from above. Infront, the technical was almost invisible against the debris. The APC next was slightly move obvious, and our two trucks in the rear far more so.

A voice from right over my shoulder - "that's so cool! Which one are we?" I tilted the screen to show her, and took a proper look at Brian's sister, not that there was much to see but for the generic mask and puffy jacket. "So, Aisha, is it? Have you found an earpiece yet?" Then it slipped my mind, and I turned back to the screen. We had creeped to the edge of the neighborhood, and downhill could see the gathered biker vans across the highway in the distance.

"OK Shadow, Bennie's about to turn onto the highway. Are you ready?" Weaver asked in my ear.

"One second. How many bugs do you have?"

"Er - just what little was at the street. I can get gather some more where we are now - it'll take a few minutes?"

"Yes, please." We were hidden enough, I hoped, for however long the grouped Empire would be slapping backs or waiting for whoever they were waiting for, down in the ring of vans.

"PRT coming! Shadow, they're heading up highway, what should we do?"

"This is perfect. Gather what you can, but don't be too far behind them."

I could see the cops now at the edges of the drone video feed, and with them a felt swell of optimism. This fight was a wrap-up - time to sort out the next. I tapped out a text message to Lisa on my phone, then switched back to watch the PRT vans arrive. I could hear the gunshots starting already. I rapped the dashboard twice, and Mark relayed the go-order along the ABB tactical comms channel. Three vehicles ahead of us, the technical sped out of the ruins and cycled wide around the highway, finding the other side and speeding down, already firing up at Empire. The APC followed it and stuck to the right lanes of the highway. The first truck crossed to the other lanes, and Mark pulled out to follow in the APC's covering fire.

We reached the edge of the circle at the same time Weaver's group ploughed into a parked van. Around the opposite side of the wide circle, the cops were spraying foam and bullets into the raging crowds. All three of us bailed out the van and ran towards the encircled Empire forces.

To my left, Grue was already propelling a wave of black gas before us. Right, Highwayman was crouched low to the ground, running full-tilt with us. Dashing past the APC, I heard Pete opening up with the turret.

The nazi groups were in chaos before us, running each way, from the sounds of buzzing or dogs or rattling gunfire. I shot a few rounds into those with weapons drawn and had to circle around to avoid friendly fire. Mark was in amidst a group of bikers, moving in a blur from punches to kicks and spins. From within a cluster of shoving Empire, a roar was building, and suddenly a wolf's head of hooks and blades rose snapping twenty feet vertically. A perfect target, I snatched the acid grenade, ditched the pin and threw it overarm at the wall of snapping hooks. They withdrew with a howl, and I heard many people screaming in that direction. Time to bug out, probably - this was just too hectic. I ran back to the nearby APC and hopped onto the step at the driver door, peering into the mass brawl ahead. Assault and Battery were by the PRT vans, occasionally pausing before blurring away, as they circled a Cricket who met every thrust with a fast blade.

I held down the depress on my earpiece for a second, broadcasting to all nearby allies. "Time to pack up and go, the cops'll handle the rest!"

I climbed into the driver seat, ducking a stray bullet which clipped through the windscreen and clattered somewhere in the back. Blondie was in the passenger seat, and I could see Pete's legs dangling from the roof.

I started the engine and began maneuvering the APC. A wall of black smoke reached out to the truck, which I presumed was Grue retreating. I stopped moving for a second and heard him climb onto the passenger side step outside.

I pointed the APC straight down the highway and started moving, regardless of the wall of biker vans in front. Picking up speed, I smashed past the nearby van and saw panicking skinheads diving out the way. Pete was slaughtering a group to the other side. "I'm on!" Mark's voice over comms. I stopped moving for a second, and Brian and Mark leapt into the passenger cabin door. I steered at the opposite side of the circle, at the other biker vans blocking our path, where Weaver was already driving away from the action.

Pete, Blondie, Brian, Mark - the ABB could take the vans - did we have everybody? I hit the gas, pointing at the opposite side of the ring, and smashed past them also, to steam on down the highway to downtown. Mark was telling the ABB to pull back to the community center, and to let the cops clean up the rest of the eighty-eight.

Weaver's APC slowed to let us catch up, and we drove into a deserted downtown together. Shutters were down on all storefronts along the empty, wide avenues. Weaver pulled over and I followed her into a city backstreet behind a tall office block.I tasked a drone to try and come over - the other having ran out of charge.

I met Weaver and Bitch in the street between the vans. Bitch's face had a long cut by her eye and she had bruises along her arms. Weaver was slouched forwards, her posture tired. "Are we going to try and cross the bay, James?"

"No," I looked up at the glassy office block. "Let's get indoors. There's one more thing to do today. Coil has left us a base in the city, we just have to kick out the squatters."

Last edited: Jul 16, 2018

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#40

A couple of blowtorched doorways later, and midday found us occupying some corporate office on the fifth floor of the emptied tower.

On either side of the floor-to-ceiling windows, Pete and Bennie were leaning on the wall, looking out at the rooftops of the north Bay. Weaver was sat cross-legged on the floor between them, internally absorbed. From behind them, I had one of the desktop computers running my OS, and had a few screens open. The others were resting in some managerial office to the side, the dogs curled up around Rachel in the corner.

A couple of blocks away, in a construction site on Maritime Avenue, my drone's feed showed two figures sat close together on the roof of the half-finished building, looking out over the road. Occasionally one would turn to the other and speak. I assumed that they were probably two ranged hitters of the Travellers, but couldn't identify either through the grainy video. There was no sign of the giant squid monster that the twins had dealt with earlier in the morning.

The small office was quiet, and I leant back in the plastic chair. I was sat at one desk among ten or so in the room, many of which we'd shoved to the sides away from the window. I stretched my arms upwards and heard clicks throughout my back and elbows. It had been a long fight, and I really wanted to crash in a real bed tonight.

Pete and Bennie's heads turned in unison, craning down to watch something in the street below, but neither of them said anything, so I continued my work on the PC. I had Coil's page open in one window, from the file on him in my databank. Lisa had added some old audio files of her phone calls with Coil to his page, and I pressed play on sample number three, hearing the fuzz of a phone-call playback in my earpiece. It was depressingly similar to one and two. Coil would ask Lisa some obscure question about foreign politics or finance, and make foul threats to her person if she was late with the answer. I stopped playback, not wanting to hear any more. It was enough, anyway.

In the silence of the office, I heard the elevator ding down the hall and swivelled in my chair to await the arrival of Lisa and Alec. I heard them talking loudly before seeing them through the glass panes into the corridor - hanging off Alec's arm was a woman with a pout and a lot of makeup on. The three started walking through the office door, before the woman adopted Alec's lazy slouch and shuffled back over to the elevators. Lisa had black bags under her eyes, but Alec looked fresh in a shirt and suit jacket.

Noticing the air of quiet in the office, they stopped speaking on walking in. Lisa dropped heavily into a chair and wheeled over to me, thrusting out a slip of paper then covering her eyes with a palm. I took it, and looked over to Weaver, who was still cross-legged before the window with her back to me. I spoke softly. "Hey, Weaver? Are you ready?"

Her head turned ninety degrees, and she nodded. I typed the numbers on the slip of paper into the PC, then sat back in the chair, and hit the return key.

On a hanging slab of concrete a few blocks away, a man and a woman surrounded by girders and scaffolding were sat, dangling their feet over the edge and watching a road.

"You're full of shit, as always. Why we even still here?" The woman flicked a fly off her forearm. "If he was going to help, he already would have."

"Mars, we put enough time into this guy, why not just wait a little bit longer? He said he was working on something new. That might still come through."

"That's the classic escalation of investment, Krouse, the sunken cost fallacy. The smart thing to do is getting her onto the road - "

From the man's pocket came a shrill ring. He drew out his phone and saw a withheld number was calling. "See, that's probably him now." He answered. "Hello?"

A second of silence. "Trickster." It was the boss. He gave a thumbs up to the woman next to him, Marissa, who huffed and turned back to look at the road.

"Yeah, it's me. Everything is clear, so when are you coming back?"

A moment of silence before Coil replied. "I have been briefly detained in my operation."

"Well everything is quiet here, there's still a base for you to come back to, and so on. But Noelle's getting hungry, so we need the guys back. How long will you be?"

A second again before Coil replied, and Krouse wondered whether the call might be long distance. "I am sending you some back-up. You have met my agent, Circus, of course."

"No. Who? Oh - wait, is that the harlequin's name?"

"Circus will be at the front gate momentarily. Please conduct her into the base."

"Alright, but who are you sending to help with Noelle?"

"Circus will explain everything momentarily."

"She'd better, because this is messed up. When will YOU be back?" The call ended and Krouse was tempted to throw the phone. Instead he sighed, put it into his pocket, then stood up and switched places with a mannequin stashed on the ground. He walked over to the gate, arriving at the same time as the brightly dressed harlequin on the other side. The cape gave him a wave and Krouse opened the gate, standing aside to watch the gaudily dressed agent enter the site. "Circus. What's going on? Where's the boss?"

Circus nodded and said, "we should talk about this inside."

Krouse sighed again. "Fine." He led the way to the ground floor foundations of the construction, and walked deep into the building's footprint to a solid iron door set into the concrete. Typing the code into the recessed keypad, he swung open the heavy door to show a the first turn of a dimly lit stairway heading down.

Circus gestured down. "After you." Krouse inclined his head in thanks and took the first step, then lost consciousness in a sudden wall of darkness and confusion.

Four huge dogs smashed through the chain link fence surrounding the site and bounded across to the base of the new building at the center. At the nearest corner, I dismounted and hovered around the bottom of a metal staircase leading up through the scaffolding. Weaver was counting down in my ear, "3, 2, ... and a half - 1," and right on cue a brunette woman dashed blindly out of the covered stairway. I tackled her hard to the lumpy earth. Her shout stopped when she looked up to see a jaw the size of a garbage can baring teeth inches from her head. I didn't want to take any chances on the power front, and whacked the back of her head with the base of my blowtorch. I didn't mean to hit hard enough to draw blood, but at least she was out for the moment.

From deeper into the foundations, Grue and Circus were coming over to me on foot - together we dragged the dazed woman to the iron door within the foundations. I saw it was propped open with the body of the other cape, who had been on duty. The dog behind me bounded over to where Bitch and the three other dogs were approaching the door.

We were unmoving for a moment. I looked from the two knocked-out capes to the descending stairway. "Alright - Brian, Mark, you guys go down and try to run dark. What's down there, Weaver?"

"It's pretty big, I'm still working through the first level. Nobody's home, so far."

Our Shaker and combat-Thinker started walking down, both lost in black mist before the first turn.

I waited with Bitch and Circus, with the two downed Travellers at the top of the stairs, and by drone view saw the APCs pulling up outside. I heard the echo of many rapid footsteps in the dark foundations before seeing the group emerge from behind a block of concrete. Pete and Blondie were leading, weapons drawn, and they fell into step beside me as they reached the inset doorway. Lisa surveyed the downed capes with her hands on her hips, lips pursed. Next to her, Alec was inspecting the effect the muddy ground was having on his shoes, one eyebrow raised. Bennie and two of his guys were behind Alec, looking around warily. "Weaver? How are they getting on down there?"

"First floor clear. We're working through the second now." I stepped over the body in the doorframe, and starting heading down the stairs, Pete and Blondie with me. A few levels down, a landing protruded from the staircase, guarded by an open metal door like the one above. I left it for now, and hurried down to the next floor. Another door, but the corridor beyond was filled with black fog. I took position to one side of the doorway, and behind me Pete and Blondie turned to cover up and down the shaft.

"Guys? How's it looking?"

There was no reply over comms, but after a moment Mark emerged from the mist dragging a face down, bound and gagged man. "This place is huge, man." He was dropped roughly on the landing, and lay squirming and shouting into a cloth knotted over his mouth, his hands zip tied in a bunch behind his back. The captive was wearing a vest and boxer shorts only, and had the bulky body of an athlete.

Brian stepped out a moment later, and behind him the mist level began to fall. Leaving the captive where he lay, the five of us started moving down to the next level. I tapped my ear, "B-Dog, move down to the second floor. Lisa, try and get the dogs and Travellers down to the first."

The third landing, and bottom of the staircase, were many turns downwards. Here the iron door was closed. I took front position of our group and readied the blowtorch. To the other side of the door frame, preparing to level a kick, Brian was already building thick balls of fog in his upturned hands, which was emerging from the cuffs and seams of his jacket. Mark nodded from behind him, gun readied. I reached out, powered on the torch, and cut a semi-circle into the metal around the handle.

With a mammoth kick from Brian, the door flew inwards on its hinges and crashed against the far wall. Brian made a throwing motion, and the smokey pools of fog in his hands preceded him through the door frame. Mark sprung after him into the darkness, gun already pointing at something. Pete and Blondie followed, then finally I stepped through the door into a tall, open, concrete-walled room beyond. I hung around the back of the now rising black smoke, where I could still peer around the edges and assess. There was a high ceiling, and at the other end, some two hundred feet away, a huge metal shutter door that looked like a road access. There were lots of rooms and corridors around the sides of the big room we had come into - and suspended above was a catwalk, along which Bennie came jogging, pistol pointed into the field of darkness below.

The darkness withdrew, as though sucked back into the figure emerging from its midst. Brian and Mark stood above six prone men, Mark's foot on the back of one. Both had their pistols leveled at the kneeling men in black combat fatigues. One raised his empty hands in the air. I could see that two of the men had their legs in plaster casts, another's broken arm was held horizontal with a metal frame around his chest. Coil had evidently left his wounded behind, on whatever flight into the night he had taken.

With Weaver's confirmation, the rest of the underground complex was now empty but for the dozen prisoners, in the center of an Undersider semi-circle in the garage basement.

Apart from the two capes we had knocked out on the surface, we had the still squirming and furious-looking bound man from the chambers above, plus a woman in a wheelchair and a young man who had given themselves up peacefully in a kitchen beyond the catwalks. The injured mercenaries were kneeling with their hands on their heads, those who were able, and held their tongues. The woman in the wheelchair looked at her tied up teammates with no emotion, then turned to shout at the Undersiders. "This was a really, really dumb idea guys."

Rachel was tensing her fists and stepped towards the woman, so I moved ahead of her and responded. "Genesis, I suppose? We're not worried about Coil."

Her voice dead serious, she shook her head, "no, I'd imagine not. But that's not why this was a dumb move."

Across the garage, a boom sounded in the direction of a heavy vault door.

"Yeah. You're really going to piss her off. Dumb move, guys."

Another boom and the vault door seemed to ring in its frame.

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#41

Boom.

"What. What is it?"

Boom.

"SHE is Noelle. SHE is hungry. And SHE is going to extremely pissed off with you for this," Genesis returned petulantly.

BOOM.

I turned to look at the vault door. To the side was a small video panel, where a blue light was flashing. I left the prisoners under guard and walked over to inspect, pressing the flashing button.

A woman's face appeared on the screen with a fish-eye effect. "Who are you? Where's Krouse? What's going on out there?"

The woman looked angry and delirious. I pressed the blue button again, vanishing the woman and looked around the wide garage. In one corner, a metal staircase ran up to the catwalks, and jutting out from the catwalks was the classic security room. I headed up, and found the room decked in rows of small screens. I flicked a few on until I found some views of whatever was inside the vault.

It took me a few seconds to realise the scale of what I was seeing on the small monitor. Behind the vault door was quite a long room, currently hosting a six-legged dog-like form the size of an APC. At the "face" end of the dog, two heads pointing different ways - each face was a mosaic of conjoined animal snouts and eyes. As though riding a horse, rising from the monster's back was the upper body of a woman. At her head height, a partner to the two-way video screen outside, and I could see she was still there pressing the blue button repeatedly. The larger head made a snapping motion, and the legs darted across the room -

BOOM.

I pulled up one of the wheeled chairs and sat at the screens, leaning closely over the monitor, and dropped two charges back into the bio-tinker speciality. I had to dismiss the sudden visions of microbial warfare, chimera monsters, walking dead - and pore over the camera feeds from inside the vault. The trickle of information from my power felt like instinctive, innate knowledge, in the way it arrived to my thinking mind.

Clearly, my thoughts led, this is a case of a girl growing a monster, rather than vice-versa - or, let's run with that now, at least. Her lower abdomen and legs must have at some time began an outgrowth, which became the mockery of an animal, which then produced its own head and legs. I was aware of Changers, as a category of cape, but never of something as uncontrolled and severe as this.

BOOM.

A third charge into bio-tinker, and things still weren't making sense. Her circulatory systems were somehow interfacing with the monster, which should be impossible - unless they were using an umbilical. Was she giving birth to it? Was it giving birth to her?

A fourth charge now, and my grip on reality seemed to waver, as the figure on the screen seemed to expand and surround me. Yes, my power said, it would eventually detach from her, but by that stage the "her" would be little more than a brain in a bony skull.

So was there a solution, then? I thought around for a moment - there was an obvious solution that came to mind, when I thought about the capes outside - but there seemed to be no obvious medical way to sever the girl from her horrific baby. Perhaps a fifth charge would make things clearer.

For an unknown amount of time after dropping the fifth, I lost myself. Coming to, I couldn't get my mind back on track to whatever I'd just been thinking. The monster. The fleshy outgrowths between it's leg joints, the patterns in the clusters of eyes and mouths. It was all a natural pattern, a design of the gods, a wellspring of some design too great to conceive. The monster was going to be perfect, as per the pattern, it just needed time and food ...

An unknown number of minutes later, and with tinker charges dialled down to zero, I was carefully stepping back down the catwalk to the garage floor. The prisoners were still kneeling or lying down - or sitting in Genesis' case - inside a circle of armed Undersiders, plus Mark and our unpowereds, who were silently watching the group for trouble. I was still feeling a vague mental pull to assist the monster in its growth, but apart from that had no new ideas to solve the issue in the vault.

I inspected our captured capes, and saw that the teleporter Trickster had come to, and was currently blindfolded. He turned his head at the sounds of my footsteps echoing around the empty underground garage. His lookout partner this morning, whom I had caught trying to descend the scaffolding to the subterranean base instead of activating her power, was still knocked out - or pretending to be; a single bio-tinker charge said no, so I took it back.

I looked around the group, spotting the unusually sharply dressed Alec, and made eye contact. He cocked an eyebrow, and I pointed at the dazed Sundancer on the floor. He nodded and shuffled over. Together we dragged her into a dark side-office. I dropped her in the middle of the room, pulled over a chair next to her, then turned and stepped out, closing the door.

Sat again in the security room, I winced at the screams coming through the thin glass for a few minutes, before Alec and her stepped out and looked up to the catwalks. I pointed through the glass, down at the vault door, and Sundancer slouched over to face it.

I sat to watch the monitor. Genesis was trying to cry quietly across the garage, but hadn't asked us to stop.

There were many more booms on the door before it was over, but eventually my power confirmed that no trace of either the girl or monster remained in the room. The miniature sun that the subverted Traveller had summoned in the vault had melted the inner concrete walls and was causing the heavy door to glow and sag in its frame.

For a few more minutes I remained in the chair, not wanting to come out of the little security room yet. It was all a bit overwhelming. Eventually I stood up and took a few steps onto the catwalk, leaning on the railing and looking down to the garage. Across from me was an elevator of some sort, perhaps one way Coil was receiving supplies from the surface.

I walked down to the capes and people below, and looked for the last time at the Travellers. The gagged, bound Ballistic looked to be as furious as his namesake, his eyes and face red and shaking. Genesis was still crying into her hands. Trickster, blindfolded, head resting on the floor. And the meek young man, whose eyes darted from person to person nervously. Sundancer stood next to Alec, and was inspecting her nails. "Alright, B-Dog, get them out of here. If you guys have any sense, you'll stick to what you're good at, and Travel on. Don't come back to the Bay."

The Travellers were dragged or wheeled into the lift, after which followed Bennie and his two guys that were still standing. I held the elevator door before it closed, and snapped to look at Alec.

"Let her go."

Sundancer huffed and walked over to the elevator. When it closed, I turned to Pete and Blondie. "Can you guys open that door, and bring the APCs down, please?" Pointing at the tall metal shutter across the garage. They nodded and headed to the catwalk stairs, to find the door controls.

To the injured mercs, still huddled silently, looking at me from eyes that had seen their fair share of action. "New payroll, fellas, sorry about the mixup. Your salary will be through shortly with a bonus to apologise for the delay." One of them nodded, and they helped their plastered fellows up before leaving through the blowtorched staircase door.

That left Circus, Alec, Lisa, a still-masked Weaver, Brian, Rachel, Mark and I in the big empty garage. I walked over. Rachel was the first to sit down on the cold floor, then Lisa who lay back with her legs crossed and an arm under her neck, but we all followed, Alec being the last.

"Mark," I asked, "how is she?"

"Still out cold, at the community center." Mark turned to Brian. "They have your sister, there, too."

Brian sat up straight and took a sharp breath, slapping himself on the head. "Aisha!"

"The cops and ambo's are arriving there now. I think things are calming down, out there."

Lisa kicked one foot into the air, from where it was crossed over her bent knee. "The Empire aren't gonna let this go. We just kicked them out the whole south shore of the bay."

Weaver was cross-legged next to her. "They're going to take it out on the north."

"Well," I gestured around us, "we're northside too now."

"Urgh! I definitely need to sleep first," Lisa complained.

"Alright." I stood up and stretched, joints popping. "I'm gonna go find all Coil's coolest shit."

I didn't make it past the first guest bedroom.

DAY EIGHT

Dreams of Parian the kids being shot while running across the street. Dreams of Mark screaming at the sky and tearing at his own guts. Dreams of fire and burning wolf heads snapping and biting at my feet.

Awake with a jolt, sweating into unknown bedsheets - the room was pitch black. I fumbled around in a blind panic and felt a bedside table, then found a lamp switch. The underground base. The guest bedroom. I was remembering the long day before.

I found my discarded clothes and pulled out the phone. It was 9:45am and I had a cluster of messages. Ignoring them, I felt the soreness along my ribs and stomach from the violence over the past few days. Hookwolf's punch and Victor's shot had left black and yellow bruises.

At the back of the bedroom was a small blessing - a shower ensuite. I stood in the hot water for a while, my brain slowly waking from the long sleep and vivid dreams.

Dressed, I stepped out into the corridor beyond the bedroom - the second floor, where Mark and Brian had found Ballistic sleeping. I shuffled along the corridor, further into the base, past the sleeping quarters, then some dark offices and storerooms before the corridor met the catwalk over the garage. I walked out and leant on the railing, looking down. The two APC were parked up, but the bay was empty and silent. I wondered if the injured mercs would be hanging around.

Tapping on my phone, I found the local news, and read that the travel advisory had been lifted since the violence ceased yesterday. People would be coming into downtown now, and trying to pick up the pieces of their city.

Putting it away, I found a staircase and ascended to the first floor, which I hadn't yet visited. The upper end of the staircase led directly into an armory of some sort - metal grating covered half the room, bare racks of shelves beyond. I exited through a side archway and found a short corridor with two sliding glass doors, and another ascending staircase at the end. Passing through the first, I found some kind of planning room - a map of the city covered part of the wall, and multiple whiteboards listed names, duties and hours. I checked the second room and found a reception area, with a grand oak double door on the other end. I crossed and opened one - Coil's office lay beyond, with minimal furniture but his large desk, some bookshelves and a lounge area with small couches.

Back to the corridor outside the office, I climbed the small staircase and met the inside of another of the heavy metal doors dotted around the base. Drawing back the bolt, I poked my head around. It led to the descent road ramp from the parking area above, down to the buried garage.

I re-bolted the door, and walked back into the office, sitting lightly on his chair, and rocked back and forth a few times. Yes, I thought, this is better.

Last edited: Jul 17, 2018

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#48

I think this chapter will tip us over 50k words, so let me make a few prefaces. Firstly, if you've made it this far, thanks and well done for struggling through with me. I think we're in a good position to slow the pace down and have some fun. Major thanks to everyone who dropped a comment - as a new writer it's super helpful to see which bits stuck out, which bits you enjoyed, which bits didn't make sense and so on, so please do let me know how it's going.

Apologies again for the typos or slips. I don't speak American English, only British style, so a lot of nouns might be wrong. For example: the big empty space you park your car in (garage) has the same name as the business you take it to if it breaks down (garage) in British. I can't remember if that's true in US also? I can only remember Moe talking about his "carhole" on the Simpsons.

Thanks for reading.

Yes, I thought, this is certainly better than living on Skid Row with the Undersiders. It seemed like Coil had stripped the base of anything useful, in his mad exit from the Bay, then told the Travellers he'd be right back and left them here with the monster. There was certainly something to be said for his sense of style, but like Tattletale had noted, it was a departure from his usual MO, and I wondered what must have changed for the secretive Thinker to behave so violently. I doubted we'd heard the last of him, but at least I had his plush base to face him from, should he ever return.

Yes indeed, I thought, rocking back on his smooth desk chair, a wonderful base he'd left us. The office where he must have spent so long scheming was decorated in a "minimalist-slash-country drawing room" style. Pastel blue painted walls, a bare concrete floor - but a grand oak entryway, a large mahogany desk (entirely empty and bare), black leather couches in a corner, and a few tall bookshelves dotted around.

I leaned over to the nearest, and tilted my head to read the leatherbound titles.

"Pneumatic borehead design: A study," read one, "New England Farmers' Almanack 2004," "Positive Hiring for Positive Change."

I wasn't expecting to find Shakespeare or Dickens, but Coil's choice of reading material was a rather eclectic collection of industry or field-specific publications. I wondered whether he just kept them there to appear intelligent when hosting guests.

I was feeling a lot more emotionally settled now, and still enjoying Coil's chair I started on the stack of text messages on my phone. I had apparently been added to a group chat, and some conversation was going on between its members. They were relaying their locations and passing on patrol instructions - I muted the chat. Next was Mark, letting me know that Violet was awake in St Jude's hospital. Weaver, of all people, had sent me a text, suggesting the group gather at Coil's for debrief and lunch, at one o'clock on Monday. I checked the date - it was Monday, almost 10:30am. It seemed like I was the only person that had slept over at Coil's base. The team must have disbanded during the evening, when I was already passed out.

I put the phone away and arose from the chair, crossing the office and pulling open the oak doors. The smaller reception room had a desk for a secretary or receptionist, and some couches off to the side. The sliding glass door was at odds with the oak behind me - I wasn't sure what was up with that. I left the office, crossed the hallway to the briefing room, and took stock of its contents. A small podium with something to place papers on, whiteboards, some radios piled in a corner.

I noted the various supplies, and similarly went from room to room, just looking around and taking a mental inventory of the odds and ends.

Eventually I had circled most of the base, and found myself back down in the large garage below. The vault door had cooled since I saw it last, and the effect of Sundancer's miniature Sun had left it wilted and drooping in its frame.

There were a few more doors around the garage. Behind one was a power room that wasn't connected to any other - two large generators at the center were hooked into breakers and fuses, then to many thick wires running into the ceiling. A couple more doors around the garage revealed a large storage space, and some industrial equipment that I supposed ran the air and water.

It was neat, and I could imagine doing a lot of Tinkering down here. But from what I knew about Coil's prior character, it was probably rigged with booby-traps, bombs and secret doors. Checking the time, I had just over two hours to get the place safe enough to host the rest of the team for lunch.

So I thought for a moment about the types of traps I would lay, if I had built this base. There would certainly be hidden doors, escape routes and so on. Probably long-life explosives built deep within to the concrete, just waiting for some signal to collapse the roof onto any intruders. I would likely also try to get 100% coverage with cameras.

The first speciality I reserved for the day was structural engineering, then as I continued thinking up countermeasures, I also went for counter-surveillance and my old trusty, electronic engineering. That left two more specialities that I could pick later today, before the clock reset at midnight.

I dropped two Tinker charges into structural engineering, and as usual, was assaulted of visions of amazing machines. I was interested in the hammer that could collapse a fortress, but dismissed them for now.

I turned my talent on the base, and felt a rush of information about it's load-bearing strong points. Placing my palm against the bare garage wall, I could almost feel the shape of the underground building around me.

There didn't seem to be any hidden rooms leading off the garage, so I thought about going from room to room to check - but I also wanted to check for hidden cameras and bugs too, and it would make more sense to do them both in one sweep. Dropping two points each to electronics and counter-surveillance technologies, I let the power guide me in stripping down an old drill from some tools in one corner, turning it into essentially a long wire cable that would vibrate if near to even a small amount of electric current.

I went once more to every room in the base, looking around with both tinker specialities running. Waving the wire over the walls was tiresome, but led me to discover a whole bunch of ultra-thin fibre optic cameras in the walls, small as pinpricks. I didn't want to go tearing them out yet - instead, using the sensor to track their cables through the walls, leading me eventually to a server room with many bare racks and only a few machines running. It was chilly and dark in the room, but the lights flicked on automatically as I stepped in.

A terminal screen was built into the server racks, so I went over and hit a few buttons on the keyboard. The screen lit up, and presented a black and white command prompt.

I looked at the blinking "" symbol, and tried to remember my basic commands. I hit "ls" and pressed return. The computer responded: "Error with 'ls': insufficient privilege."

Alright, I thought, let's try: "sudo ls". A password prompt and some warning came as reply. Last two Tinker specialities, then, I decided, and took the familiar coding and computer science.

My fingers raced across the keyboard for a few minutes, but eventually I gained the access I needed to the base's digital systems. I connected to the web, opened a port to my cloud OS, and sat back shivering to watch my machine takeover. Coil's data was sandboxed and saved, before the servers were wiped and reinstalled my with own OS.

Shivering, I emerged from the server room, and carried on my search of the base. Over the next few hours of checking and double-checking everything, I had located two hidden exits to the surface - one behind a bookshelf in Coil's office, that's what they were for - and a whole gamut of hidden cameras and recording devices.

It was almost one PM, so I headed downstairs to the catwalks, and found the security room with all the monitors. I flicked through screens until finding a view of the construction site on the surface. No workers were here, but I could see traffic on Maritime Avenue past the gate. I watched for a few minutes. Street sweepers and dump trucks piled high with rubble were in abundance, but the busses seemed to be running. One stopped along the fence to disembark passengers, and I watched from a camera view over the sidewalk as a brunette schoolgirl got off and approached the construction site gate. It was still open from when the dog charge had smashed them apart, yesterday. The girl hesitated on the threshold then walked through, approaching the base of the building in progress.

I didn't recognise her, but she strode purposefully through the foundations to the inset door leading down, and stopped to take out her phone, tapping on the screen for a minute. My own buzzed - text from Weaver's number, asking to be let in. I pressed a few buttons on the console before me, watching on the screens as random doors opened and closed around the base, before finding the button controlling the door on-screen with Weaver.

I left the security room and went to meet her in the garage, where she emerged through the staircase door with the blowtorched-out lock and looked around.

"Hi, James. How are you settling in?"

"Wow, Weaver! Look at you, unmasking!" She grinned at me, her plain thin face absolutely not what I had expected to have been behind the scary mandible bug-mask.

"Its Taylor, nice to meet you! But not when we're out in costume, please don't call me Taylor then."

I nodded. "Well, you're the first here." I gestured at her clothes. "Did you come from school?"

"Yeah," her face fell. "This morning didn't go too well, so I decided to head out for lunch." Her cheeks were red and she was looking at the floor with what I thought was embarrassment, so I switched topic.

"Did, er, is anyone bringing food?"

She brightened. "Brian and Aisha offered to. They're coming now."

"Awesome - I'm starving. Let's go up to one of the meeting rooms."

The team arrived in drabs, finding me and Taylor sat around a huge conference table. Lisa, Alec and Rachel arrived together and sat down with us. Brian and an excited Aisha came next, dropping filled plastic bags on the table that read "Mama Lee's".

Mark was last in, pushing Violet ahead of him in a wheelchair. She was in a gown and held a balloon. I jerked up - "Violet! How - how are you?" - my voice cracking a little.

Behind me, Lisa had seen the twins and let out a "wohoo!"

I stood over the wheelchair awkwardly, Mark hovering behind her. She looked pale and gaunt, but happy, and there was a softness in her eye as she smiled up at me. "I'm better than dead, thanks to you." She looked at the bags of food on the table. "Hey guys, let's eat!"

Mark wheeled her to the table, and I went to sat down where I had been, next to Taylor. Brian and Aisha dished out food - I noticed she had given me the smallest portion - and we were quiet for a few minutes as we tucked into our rice or noodles.

The team were chomping happily, focused on their food, but I put the plastic fork down after a few mouthfuls and leant back. "So, we need to sort some stuff out."

Weaver looked up from her plate. "Yeah, debrief."

Lisa put down her fork and the rest followed suit, looking at me around the table.

I started us off, turning to Lisa. "What's going on in the Bay?"

She counted off her fingers. "Forty-eight block, Jefferson, and the south Bay projects are all Nazi-free zones, at the minute."

It was Violet who interrupted her. "And north?"

"North is where it gets tricky. You guys broke the siege of Northridge, but the ABB lost a lot of ground elsewhere."

Brian gestured, "at least we have a foothold now." He turned to Rachel, who had finished her food and was looking bored with her chin resting on a fist. "Sorry, Bitch, that I had to leave you the other night." She grunted, not showing emotion either way.

"Hey!" Aisha piped up. She shoved the arm of her brother. "You didn't say sorry for leaving me, yet."

Brian turned back to her. "But you got back alright, with the ABB, didn't you?"

Taylor spoke, addressing Aisha. "Did you have an earpiece in at the time?"

Aisha folded her arms grumpily.

"OK, so. Next steps." I thought about whether we should take any urgent measures, and decided that all possible measures were urgent, given the minimal set-up that we had. "The way I see this running is, we split management of the city along the same lines we have it now. Bitch, Lisa, Brian, the forty-eight block and surrounding areas are yours - the Undersiders. You guys use the dogs, the street people, and you keep everything calm across the bay.

"Mark, Violet, you guys have the apartment, and the ABB. I'll help you get more established, get things settled down.

"Alec, keep doing your thing, man."

He nodded, sharply dressed again this afternoon. "Will do. I presume I'm helping somehow?"

"Yes please - I want to know everything we can find out about the 88. Their personal details are all across the web - but I want to know where they hang out, what they smoke, what beer they drink." He thought about it and I continued. "Plus, I need to get into Medhall. We'll need to find a security guard off the clock at a bar somewhere."

"What about me? And you? And Aisha? What are we going to do?" Taylor asked.

"Well, it's up to you, Weaver. Will you weave us some outfits?" I was hesitant to touch on the same topic that had upset her previously, but remembered the candid approach I was taking with her.

She nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll reach out to Parian."

"Thanks." I turned to look at Aisha, who put on a fake excitement as I turned to her, blinking and bobbing up and down. "So, Aisha, if you're happy to get involved, working with Violet and the ABB would be a good way to cut your teeth."

"Oh, thanks for the orders, mister!" She said in a fake accent, then rolled her eyes.

I glanced at Violet, who was giving a desperate look across the table at Aisha, before catching my eye. She gave a small nod.

"As for me, I guess I'm downtown's resident Tinker now. I'm gonna need a busload of staff, a ton of materials, and a couple of hundred million dollars," I pondered, scratching my chin. "Shouldn't take more than a few days."

Last edited: Jul 19, 2018

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#49

The group finished eating, the mood light, then started departing, promising to keep in touch.

I rested for a couple of hours, before the first truckload of employees arrived from the Undersiders' street.

I was pleased to see Jaycee, Country, Pete, Blondie, and some strong looking men I didn't recognise, as they climbed out of the truck in the garage basement and looked around. Jaycee seemed enormously proud to show me the contents of the truck: my forge components, tinker tools, the power-sink, a rack of pistols, some boxes of electronics, and a sports bag filled with cash. I clapped him on the shoulder in thanks, and with their help started setting the forge up in one corner of the garage. Although I wanted to get my hands dirty with the forge, I didn't have any specialities free, so instead grabbed a laptop off the pile and rode the garage elevator to the top floor. I returned to Coil's - my - office and plugged the laptop into the wall, then connected to the base's wireless network and logged into my cloud OS. I steepled my fingers, and thought about what was best to do.

Two points into coding, three into computer science, and I felt the warm embrace of two old compadres. The OS was laid out before my eyes, rows of interconnecting systems bouncing messages to each other.

I checked the status of the OS, and noted that it had infected some university computer networks in Europe to requisition hardware cycles. I turned down the aggressiveness - attacking universities would be making itself too large a target.

A lot of network disk storage was taken up with audio recordings, uploaded by the "always listening"-mode of any earpiece or phone running my apps. Even with background noise and silences filtered out, it had built up a lot of audio. I selected a few at random - people speaking in a fast Chinese, a cryptic phone call in another.

I thought back to the chaos, of the past couple of days, leaning back in the comfortable desk chair. We absolutely hadn't made enough usage of comms, and that was mostly my fault - I had mostly been using comms to bother Lisa with requests.

I navigated to the source code repository of my platform, and opened a new project. This one interfaced the machine learning library with the web-crawled databank and the speech generator. I realised soon into the project, that it would be using more calculations than either Coil's servers or my own resources could supply at the minute.

To solve the computation constraint, I had to get deep into Tinker-fugue, and felt a strange timelessness come over me while I worked. The process of tinkering was very mentally involving, but as each layer of a problem was solved I felt a rush of happiness and pride. It was as difficult to hold onto a mental Tinker-concept as the images of a dream, or the meaning of a piece of art, or the fleeting moment of connection with another person.

The outcome was a piece of software that could worm its way into a graphics-processing unit - a type of chip in computers - and use it in novel ways. Instead of using the GPU to handle vectors in graphics calculations, a hijacked chip running my software would help compute for the machine-learning platform in the cloud. The idea to use chips this way was not new, but I was utilising the chips in ways modern science couldn't.

I returned to the overarching project, and kept getting dopamine rushes of happiness as each stage fell together. It didn't seem like long before I had an early, functioning build. I keyed a button on the laptop and cleared my throat. "Er...hello."

"Hello, James."

Neat! The voice coming from the speakers was an eerily exact replica of a real human, somewhere in the bay who had talked near a phone recently. I lowered the tone, androgenized it slightly, and added an ever so slight echo. "Hello, hello."

"Hello, James."

"Erm ... what day is it, today?" I felt slightly awkward, talking to a laptop in an empty room.

"It's Monday, eleventh of April."

"What day was it, the day before tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure about that".

"Who's the Empire cape that turns into black mist?"

"Fog. Fog is a Changer 8."

"Do you - are you having murderous thoughts, right now?"

"I'm not sure about that."

It was looking pretty good. I set it to listen in on all the ABB and Undersider channels, absorbing what it could.

I was tempted to leave it there - it was now gone six o'clock - but I wanted to get the most out of today's charges, while I was here.

I opened a new project, and had fun for a few hours exploring and poring over the most common modern operating system. Every component that I focused on was like an open box; reading the source code was like hearing music in my head from printed notes. I started building a catalogue of exploits, ways to disrupt or takeover parts of the computer, that had not been adequately defended against. It seemed like every running process had gaping holes and vulnerabilities - and some of the mistakes the designers had made, gave me ideas to improve my own OS' defenses.

I integrated the exploits into the offensive capabilities of my software platform, and looked again at the system's behaviour in taking over networks. I didn't want it targeting universities and the likes where actual computer scientists might pick it apart - but financial institutions seemed like fair game. I decided to avoid banks, and set the web crawler to look up network information on SEC registered hedge funds and brokerages.

The network results started coming in, row after row filling my screen. An awful lot of them were connected to the web in ways vulnerable to my exploits. I picked a network at random, and opened a channel to their web server. It was ludicrously easy to break in and connect to their internal network with all the finances, considering my tool showed this was an asset management business whose SEC licence dated back decades. The largest system on their network was the production codebase handling accounts and money movements. I looked around for a while, until I found an account that had not been touched since the year 1995. I crafted an order to sell a few hundred thousand dollars of petroleum shares out of a portfolio of twenty-one million dollars-ish in equities. The order bounced out of their system, then their incoming network buffer received a sell confirmation. I erased it, and wiped all traces of the trade, and edited the balance in the database back up to twenty-one million.

Next, I really needed a bank account to collect the cash. I wondered what Coil had been using. Poking around the corners of some third-world banks' internet-facing systems, I found one bank in Micronesia that was running a 1985 version of it's operating system. I connected with ease, and generated a new bank account number.

The new account generation triggered a number of further system calls. The bank wanted to check my identity, cue some marketing decisions, and so on - I halted all of these. I wanted the account to fly under the radar, and almost logged out of the bank, before realising that they probably processed incoming wire transfers on paper. That wouldn't do - I broke into the bank's interface to the international clearance network, and had to upgrade large portions of their codebase from the 1985 version to handle incoming banking messages automatically. Then I hid all my upgrades, so they would only be triggered if the recipient was my account.

Finally, I returned to the infiltrated network of the asset management company, and crafted a final outgoing order, to credit the proceeds of the petroleum sale into my Micronesian account. The asset managers paid the extra fee for urgent international transfer, and I once again wiped all traces of my work.

Neat. I returned to the long list of SEC registered companies, whose networks would be vulnerable. Time to script a mass - but individually small - sale of parts of old portfolios across North America.

I wondered briefly if there were any special cops on the look out for this kind of thing. I probably would have to move the money out of Micronesia before too long.

Yawning, I sat back, dropping my charges and rubbing my eyes. I decided to go and check out how the guys were settling in, and took the elevator in the corridor down to the garage.

There a few more trucks were parked up, and Jaycee and some guys were sat in a circle, drinking beers from a cooler and laughing.

I descended the catwalk stairs and headed over, pointing at the cooler, "mind if I grab one, uncle?"

Jaycee muttered and opened a fresh one, handing it to me. I sat down and joined in with the guys, making bad jokes about the Empire, over a few more drinks.

Last edited: Jul 19, 2018

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#55

DAY NINE

I woke up on Tuesday morning in the best spirits I'd been in since triggering. After another shower and shave in the guest bedroom ensuite, I pulled on a towel then grabbed my phone and sat on the bed to check up on things. The group chats had a ton of notifications - I scrolled down through the prior day's conversation. The various team leaders were posting updates from their blocks - everything seemed mostly calm, a few incidents between unpowered ABB- and Empire-affiliated drug dealers, but not major violence.

I checked the news, and the PHO forums, digesting the public's reaction to the chaos over the weekend. It wasn't being widely report on, outside the Bay - the BBC's main headline was the state of ongoing talks between the EU and CUI, over the fate of the Indian Ocean. I found their 'Americas' section - halfway down the page was an article with barely 20 lines on the "parahuman-related civil disturbances."

Even the main USA news were hardly touching the story - one had a buttery piece on the history of the Atlantic Bank tower, built before it's namesake bank went bust in the nineties. Some journalist at Rex News had managed to squeeze a quote from a named Republican senator on the "Parahuman Response Commission", but the pot had apparently not been too stirred by the battles.

Which suited me perfectly. I checked in next with Micronesia. The bank account was up to sixteen million dollars and change, transfers arriving in dribs and drabs throughout the night. I scrolled through the transaction history: the largest was a $5.2million deposit, which had arrived via BNP Paribas in France this morning. My eye caught something confusing - a series of small deposits, a couple of hours ago, each a few cents. I must have misconfigured the code last night, or it was working differently to how I remembered outside of Tinker-fugue, because it wasn't supposed to be doing such small amounts.

Ten tiny deposits had arrived, one after the other, listing routing institutions as far afield as the National Bank of Peru and the Royal Bank of al Saud. A two cent transfer, then a single cent, then two more, then six cents - how bizarre, I thought, some of the code must have broken during those couple of minutes and I was only moving pennies around the world. Was I being robbed? Even stranger, were these ten deposits a message of some sort? A phone number?

I almost laughed at how irrational the thought was, but typed the ten digits into the dialer anyway.

Clearing my throat, I pressed the green button, and put the phone to my ear.

It was answered after two rings. Nobody spoke on the other end and I didn't want to either. Then the sound like someone laughing softly from their nose. A deep, male voice, "I take it this is the richest man in Micronesia, calling me?"

Damn. Those tiny deposits - "and I take it, this is the poorest?"

A muffled chuckle. "You have been rather careless, Mr Micronesia, and if I've found you, then your victims certainly will also." Before I could come up with a response, he continued speaking in a sad tone. "Now you have a small pile of offshore cash, multinational cyber cops hunting you, and an army of lawyers who'll take everything you've got."

"I have a bit more going on than that, I think." Damn it - how had I been busted? This weirdo either probably either had bullshit stock market or antivirus powers. "But sure, let's hear your demands, Rainman," I said tersely.

"Ha! No demands, today. I like to think of myself as more of a business partner, than an extorter. This is a sales call, and I have an offer I believe you'll accept"

The man's patterns of speech were giving me bad vibes. He walk talking like he was only giving me half of his attention - the same way Lisa spoke when she was trying to type and talk at the same time. His casual tone was getting under my skin. Something told me, this was a very dangerous individual.

At my lack of response, he carried on his distracted pitch. "I am known as the Numberman. My power grants deep knowledge of finances, and as such I provide banking facilities to a number of capes in a similar predicament to yourself. I offer the ability to turn unclean money, such as the pile in your account, into useful funds for your day-to-day operations."

He was a superpowered money launderer, then? I asked him.

"Yes, and no. I also provide clean bank accounts, with cards, normal wire abilities, et cetera."

I was feeling slightly pressured to accept. "What will it cost to cash out the Micronesian account?"

"I'm willing to offer you three percent of all deposits." I did the math quickly - one percent of sixteen million, is one hundred and sixty thousand. Three times sixteen is forty eight - the Numberman was asking for almost half a million dollars. It seemed alright, as long as he was quick, but I knew that as I ramped up, there'd be a lot more money to move. I didn't want him to jack the price up, if I needed to move bulk.

"That sounds doable. But what happens to the rate when I start needing to transfer larger amounts?"

"How large were you thinking? You have enough already to retire."

"Well ... maybe I could retire on it, but I have a business to grow. Acquisitions to make."

"Really." I felt like I had his full attention, which was a bit frightening. "It sounds like you'll be wanting the full corporate package. I would normally offer those for fifteen percent, but because you're a start-up, I'm willing to settle on ten."

I was wrapped in a towel, lying on bed, not long awake. I was not ready to haggle with some sort of financial genius. Numberman paused, and let me think. I felt like some sort of rebuttal was needed, and I did feel like ten was quite high. "I was quite happy with the three percent you mentioned. I think five would be alright, though."

"I'd go as low as eight."

"How's seven?"

"Ok, cape, we'll split the difference. Seven and a half on all deposits, and you agree to exclusivity."

Now this was getting complicated, I thought, brow furrowed. Exclusivity meant that all my money would be in his basket, giving him a lot of power over me. Even if, should we fall out, I wrote off the money and started again - after all, sixteen million overnight was not bad - however many millions were in his hands, when he decided to pull the plug, would go right into his budget.

I didn't like it, but at least I had time to assess him - and if it didn't take me long to work out he was bad, then it would be just as quick starting over again from zero.

"I agree. I'll take the full corporate service."

"Well bargained. What's your name, cape?"

"James."

"I will send details to you on this ... ah, this isn't a normal phone line, is it. Are you a Thinker or a Tinker, James?"

"I'll text you an email address, you email me my account details, and I'll move the money over. And then what happens?"

"Then, I can get cards and cash over to you whenever you ask, within an hour's notice. You just tell me where."

"And what, we switch briefcases on a park bench?"

"No. I use FedEx."

I thought about it. "Alright, sounds good, Numberman."

"Good luck, James."

I hung up on the strangest sales call in my life, and considered what I'd just committed to. It seemed alright over-all. The seven and a half percent of my gains weren't too bad - hopefully I'd be massively scaling, and it wouldn't mean I'd have to work seven and a half percent harder tomorrow for the same outcome. The ability to move large amounts of ill-gotten cash was something that might have taken me a few days Tinkering, anyway, so by not playing Numberman's game I'd be losing more than just seven and a half percent.

So I dressed, and walked through the bedroom section to where the second floor tunnel met the catwalks, aiming to pass over them to a small kitchen beyond. The walk took me over the garage section, where some mechanics with blowtorches were working on the APCs trashed over the weekend.

I took breakfast alone at the small kitchen table, reading through more messages on my phone. I was feeling a bit cooped up, having been in the base continuously since Sunday afternoon, but my time was probably better spent engineering than wandering about downtown. I wondered whether anyone was taking care of old Sammie, on the forty-eight block.

What to do today, I wondered, finishing a bowl of stale cornflakes. Ah - first thing - I generated a new email account on my phone, then texted the address to Numberman.

I wanted to think through my priorities, and wandered up to the planning room on the top floor to consult the city maps. The next major stumbling block in our expansion were the Empire, whose leader Kaiser would certainly be out to get us - Hookwolf would be out for my blood, after the acid grenade and blowtorch. The capes of the Empire were also going to be aggrieved that their civilian lives had been ruined, by presumably Coil, who I guessed had forwarded their information to the local news. They were dirty fighters, and had a lot of street presence among the poor "white" neighborhoods of Brockton Bay. We'd need full field operations to meet them: more APCs, more troops, more comms, more weapons and armor and medical facilities.

The Merchants were still out there, but I wasn't concerned with them. No matter where, no matter who was in charge, there would always be an Archer's Bridge Merchants out there.

If we could remove - or subert - the Empire, we'd own the black market of the entire Bay. But Brockton was just one city, and America just one country - Brockton would be a good place to start, but we needed to push through, and then ... sort things out, from a position of power. Fix this crazy world up a bit.

So, fine, Brockton first, I decided, but we'd be keeping an eye to the future. Politicians were a good place to start. I sat on a bench at the side of the briefing room, reading through details on the upcoming Mayoralty and City Council elections. For the top role, the incumbent Mayor Christner seemed to be polling favorite, but the Council looked like anyone's guess. I remembered that Kenneth Leung had some people in mind, for the Chinatown district seats.

Ah - there's something I can do to get out the base, this evening.

Some Tinkering, then - I rubbed my hands together, eager to get back to the enjoyable occupation. It was tempting to sit in front of the computer all day making cool AIs, but the forge was lying idle downstairs, and I hadn't churned out any materiel for a few days. I headed down in the elevator and changed into some dirty clothes, in a small locker room off the garage. A few idle guys were in a break room, so I sent them in a truck over to the city dump, where the disaster crew were dropping the ruins of the collapsed skyscrapers.

For a while I just set up the forge, in one of the large empty storage rooms, and hooked it up to the power sink without yet dropping any charges. It was easy enough to put together.

Watching the furnace' element start to warm up, I decided to focus my day's Tinkering on the goal of improving my production base. If I was going to be working with the furnace, metallurgy seemed like a good pick, so I reserved that speciality for the day by dropping a single charge in it. We'd probably want more guns, but guns didn't really contribute to the production base, so I didn't pick up gunsmithing again. Instead I powered up metallurgy to two and let it direct my in what it could do.

Ultra-strong metals - yes, we'd need that. Superconductors - maybe. Strange liquid effects - could be cool, be needed a lot of mercury.

So how does one work ultra-strong metal alloys?, I enquired of the instinctual knowledge provided by the power. I thought about it and decided to pick a second speciality for the day: lasers. I put a couple of points in and thought about whether we could make laser-cutting equipment. My mind filled with images of artillery lasers that could punch through a mountain - so, yes then.

I went back into metallurgy and started dropping scrap metal into the now red-hot furnace. Over an hour or so varying the temperature of the element, I managed to separate pure pools of each metal present.

Mixing a fast variety of hardened steel out of various crucibles, I set it to slow-cook and moved points back into lasers.

It took a while to figure through the basic tech tree for lasers, but they all seemed to require three things: a lens, a lot of power, and a scaling level of precision to fine-tune the lenses.

Duel-specialising, I tried to think of whether a clear metal would be possible, with which I could make a lens. I decided it was, so long as the lens was very thin, and provided I could bond silicates to a decent alloy.

I heard the tall metal shutter of the garage closing, and snapped out of Tinker-fugue, heading into the garage to see the first of the returning trucks. The back was covered in a tarpaulin - the guys ripped it off, to show a pile of desktop PC equipment and another of dirty rebar, salvaged from the ruins of the downtown skyscrapers. I thanked them and helped them unload, then sent them back out and a few more to follow.

A couple of guys and I managed to move everything over to the storage room where my forge was. Using the tinker tools, I stripped down a couple of PCs and found the right metals in some components. Into a new crucible they went. Some monitors provided the silicates.

I took my time mixing and casting components, but eventually had the basics. The clear metal lens, housed in a laser pen of sorts, with some salvaged power components. I connected it to the power sink, faced the output of the laser into the cooling crucible of hardened steel, and powered it up.

The bright green beam lit up the room and left a searing aftervision, but it had certainly cut a line into the steel. I wanted to get some goggles before working more on this. Actually - I remembered something else I had been meaning to do today - everybody needs eyewear, complete with HUD showing important information like "Caution, sniper."

A couple more guys arrived that afternoon - I sent them out to steal some sunglasses from wherever they could in downtown, then make their ways back here. While they were gone, I set to making some metal frames and tiny laser projectors, that could paint a HUD on the inside of the eye lenses. I would need to sit down at the laptop later, and write some software to control it. And I'd need the electronics skill again, to make them work wirelessly.

It was around five PM when I took a break to eat, and got a message from Weaver while eating a bag of chips. I went upstairs to welcome her and Parian into my office reception room.

Parian was still masked, but her body language expressed excitement as she unfolded some papers that she was carrying. She held up a picture of a black bodysuit, and looked at me questioningly. "What do you think, James? Weaver - Taylor and I were talking, and we can both get behind what you're doing on the forty-eight block - "

That's because neither of you know about the drugged out tinker in the warehouse, I thought, but outwardly nodded -

" - so I said I'd make some outfits for you, and Taylor will contribute the silk."

"For ten thousand each!" Taylor added.

"Yeah, ten thousand each," Parian confirmed.

"That's great guys!" I beamed at them. "When will you be able to make one?"

"We'll try one out tonight, once you pick a design, and see how it goes from there," Parian was gesturing at the stack of papers on the table.

"Wait - you're ready to go, already?" I asked, amazed.

Taylor looked embarrassed. "But you said I should take the old foundry building by the Undersiders' hideout. You left, and asked me to look after the area, so I moved the bugs in. Was that alright?"

I nodded, "of course, it's yours - but didn't you say you needed fifty thousand silkworms? How did you get that many so quickly?"

She looked at the floor, turning red. "Well, more like three times that, as of this morning."

"Taylor, that's amazing." She looked up, and I saw some of the old Weaver in her unmasked posture. "You guys are gonna be great." I pointed at the papers, "this stuff is way above my paygrade. I just need thirty or so tactical outfits to start with."

"So, like this?" Parian held up a piece of paper, then another. "Or this?"

They were both pencil sketches of mercenary combat uniforms, similar to Coil's guys. The one on her right was a bit bulker around the shoulders. I pointed at the left. "I like how that one is kind of streamlined. I like light and concealed."

"Huh," Parian looked at the one on the left. Then took a pencil out her bag, and sketched a concealed, light looking figure in close tactical armor. "Like this?"

"Perfect." I tapped a message on my phone for a second. "Look out for a FedEx truck, back at the base in an hour or so. It's bringing you some credit cards - consider them your personal bank accounts. Your three hundred thousand each is in there, plus a bit more incase you need to get anything." Taylor's eyes widened. Her and Parian looked at each other, then stood up. Parian took care to pick up all the papers and I saw them out - it was nearing time in my schedule for the evening's entertainment.

I poked around Coil's old quarters for a while, until I pieced together a smart suit that fit me. The clothes I picked out must have been small on Coil, judging by the larger shirts left in his wardrobes. I took another shower to clear off the tinkering grease, and dressed in a shirt, jacket and pants. Then I checked once over in the mirror - looking fantastic, I wondered whether I could manage a trip to the ABB's Stranger leader tonight - and walked down one storey to the garage floor.

On a table along the wall, a tall pile of sunglasses. In the bay, a few anonymised vehicles - including a decent enough looking Chevrolet, that I went and climbed into. The keys were in the mirror above. As I pulled out, I gave a wave goodbye to the few people working, and drove up the ramp, which came out in a parking garage behind Maritime Avenue. I parked in a spot near the exit, and took out my phone, opening the voice interface. "Hello ..."

"Hello James".

"Alright you need a name ... " I thought about the origins of the software, and settled on Graph. "Your name is Graph now."

"OK James, you can call me Graph."

"Where's Regent? Where's Alec tonight?"

The phone opened a road map app and directed me through the nighttime city streets - where things seemed to be getting back to normal, here. The map led me to a modern apartment building in a well-developed area on the outskirts of the city center. I dialed Alec, and his answer made it plain I'd woken him up, but he buzzed me into the building and told me to come to an apartment on the twelfth floor. I met him in the doorway of the apartment he was staying in - he was shirtless, and a woman wearing only his shirt was draped over him from behind.

I told him the plan, then went down to wait in the car for him. He arrived after a few minutes, dressed as I. He directed me to one of his go-to employees for this kind of task, and we picked her up from a terrace house in a dark neighborhood near the docks. The young woman that stepped out onto the street seemed happy to see Alec, and climbed into the back of the car. She was in a black dress and was unblemished. Alec introduced her as Jessica.

We drove to the Westpoint Conference Center, where Mayor Christner had just finished a speech to the farming rights groups. We parked up, and managed to remain unquestioned as we walked through the Conference Center to the crowded bar, where the Mayor was talking to a group who listened intently and laughed as one.

Alec and I bought drinks and drifted over to a corner, watching through the crowds as Jessica made her way over to Christener and hovered near his elbow, laughing at his jokes with the gathered men. He turned to take her in, and she leant over to speak to him, placing her hand on his bicep as she talked about something.

Alec shot me a grin from over his drink. "I told you she was good."

I clincked glasses with him, and we settled in to watch the evening pass.

A few hours later, Jessica found us again, and retrieved from her handbag a tangle of hidden cameras and bugs. She grinned and looked to Alec for approval. He pushed the devices over the table to me, then turned back to his drink.

It was pretty late when I pulled back down the garage slope and into the base. I was a bit buzzed but decided I could get away with tinkering while I still had the specialities.

In my inebriated state I lost track of time spent making smart-goggles from metal housing, sunglasses frames, laser projectors and stripped electronics batteries and wireless connections. I didn't realise midnight had passed until I found myself pressing two misfitting parts together for the third time. Realising what had happened, I turned off everything in the lab and went up to crash.

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 19, 2018

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#62

DAY TEN

I had a bit of a lie-in on Wednesday morning, then ate a large breakfast in the base's kitchen before taking a coffee up to Coil's office and powering up the laptop.

The arrangements with Numberman were looking good; with everything moved over to his system, and the hacking scripts shut off, I had twenty three million sitting on deposit with him. He had emailed me a link to manage my accounts online - I was directed to sign into Trace Manhattan Business Banking, one of America's most common banks, which was interesting.

I finished my coffee, checking the news, then reluctantly started reviewing the videos captured by Jessica last night. She and the Mayor had retreated to a hotel room in Westpoint Center, and all the video files began with her slyly placing a tiny camera on surfaces around the room while he was undressing.

It was not great viewing, especially so early in the day, but I managed to get a few screenshots where both his face was towards a camera and the rest of him was leaving no room for doubt. Then I closed everything, sent the screenshots to Lisa with an advisory not to open them until she'd eaten breakfast, and finally archived it all, hoping I'd never need to open those tapes again. We'd need to reach out to Christner at some point, before next week's elections.

I went downstairs and grabbed one of the HUD-glasses I made yesterday. Each set had a wifi-chip built into circuitry in the straps, and I used the network settings on the laptop to connect to the pair in my hands then slid them on my head. They were a bit like a bulky pair of combat glasses: the glass lenses were taken from actual sunglasses, but the housing was a hollow light alloy containing salaged circuits, and a mini-laser pen protruded from the inside of the left temple.

From the inside, it looked and felt like wearing a bulky but light pair of sunglasses, but in the lower left corner of my vision was an empty red box drawn by the laser. I took the glasses off, and opened a new software project on my laptop. I didn't need to drop any charges to write a quick interface between the glasses and Graph.

I put them back on and spun the office chair to face a blank spot of wall. "Hello, Graph."

"Hello, James."

"Graph, I want you to draw in these glasses, the relative angle and distances from the way I'm facing, to the Undersiders."

"One moment, James".

The red square in my vision faded, and returned as a circle, and then the names of the Undersiders were written around points of the circle like a compass or clock. "Their names are overlapping, Graph. Just use the first initial of their cape name."

Now the names weren't overlapping, it was easier to see where they all were on the circle. I turned my head, and the letters moved around the circle by the same amount. "Add Highwayman and Butterfly."

From where I was facing, 'H' and 'Bu' were near nine o'clock, while 'Bi', 'G', 'W' and 'T' were grouped between three and four. 'R' was at one.

I set the same software to install to the stack of glasses I'd made last night, then put them all into the trunk of the Chevrolet and started pulling out the garage. As the tall metal shutter lifted, I gave a wave goodbye to some guys drinking coffee around a radio, and drove south across the long bridge crossing the bay.

Descending from the raised I-48 highway to the industrial district where the Undersiders were based, I was pleased to see faces on rooftops watching over the exit ramp. I only made it a few streets into the neighborhood before hitting a roadblock. A box truck was parked sideways blocking the right lane, and clustered next to it were a band of vagrants, barely holding the chains of snapping rottweilers.

I wound the window down as one came over. He wore a dirty, holed beanie and had one of my home-made pistols tucked into his waist. Through missing teeth, he demanded to know why I was entering the area. I gave him my purpose, and he radioed ahead to check that Tattletale really was expecting a visit from one Mr James, before the group waved me through and I drove on.

Although I'd only been away for a few days, seeing the Undersiders' street again bought a bit of nostalgia. Kids were playing soccer on the road, Jaycee's parking lot was completely full, and people were milling around the open doors of the textile company. Armed figures were strolling the rooftops, looking outwards. I parked up outside the Undersiders' home warehouse, and was waved past by two men at the door. I climbed the rickety staircase and walked into the loft, seeing Lisa with some brutish men at her desk. I threw my arms out in an exaggerated wave and she gave me a despairing smirk from across the room.

She spoke in quiet, clipped terms to the men next to her, who stood and adjusted their rifle straps before walking out. Passing me, near the door, they gave me an obnoxious snarl and barged past. I crossed the loft to take one of their vacated seats. "Hey Lisa! Things are buzzing around here."

"Yeah," she grinned, "there's a good bit of paying work, so people are sticking around."

"Everyone behaving themselves?"

"Only as much as you'd expect." Then a dramatic look of horror. "Oh my God - James - what the hell was up with those photos you emailed me? Did you and Alec do what I think you did?"

"Absolutely, we did."

"Is he ... is he getting into this?"

I waved my hand vaguely. "It's something to keep him occupied, at least." I reached to brush a small fly from my arm before realising it was Taylor saying 'hi'. "As for Christner, I'll try to tap him as a resource this week. Could do with some friendly Council seats, too."

She scratched her head for a moment. "See, I get what you're doing, but I don't see why. What did you have in mind, that you'd need friendly politicians for?"

I shrugged. "How many times is something going to come up, where we'd be saying: 'damn, if I could just call the Mayor, we could sort this out'?"

She gave a disbelieving shake of her head and blinked a few times. "Alright, fine, I'll have a look at the candidates."

"Thanks. So, what's going on around here?"

"All sorts. Have a look around. What's going on with you?"

I sighed. "It's so boring in Coil's base, Lise. No-one's ever there, it's always draughty, and all I've been doing is Tinkering."

"Oh poor you. Maybe we should ask Violet to pay a visit ..."

"Lisa! Goddammit."

She was laughing, pointing at me. "Jimmy's got a cru-ush! Ew, you're disgusting James, you had your hands in her organs."

"Shut up! Stop it. There's nothing going on there." I knew my cheeks were red. "No. Look, I only came over to see the fashion queens. I'm going now -"

"Aw, are you running away from me?"

"Yes."

"Wait - I'll stop. Hold on." I sat back down, expectantly. "Seriously, what have you been up to - what have you been Tinkering?"

I told her about the plans for full combat suits with HUDs, which were basically ready to go. She wanted to know what else, so I told her about the quest for laser cutters that had sparked all this. She nodded wisely. "Don't forget that stuff, Jimmy. I've been looking into Tinkers more, recently, to try and benchmark you against them."

She looked at me and I gestured for her to carry on.

"I can't find any other Tinkers who weren't bound to a single, or a few specialities. So what you can do is unique." That was new to me, and I thought about it as she continued. "Every Tinker who made it long enough to be notable, had access to a pretty big tech base, through either the Protectorate or the bigger groups like Elite and Toybox."

"Tech base - yeah, I think I'm struggling there. The most up-to-date thing I can do is shape a few square feet of steel."

"So why don't we reach out, to one of the big groups. Maybe they'd sell or trade for decent equipment?"

"Lisa, that's genius. Which were you thinking?"

She looked at something on her screen for a second. "Well Toybox is the obvious one. You know who they are, right?"

I tried to recall. "Aren't they like a Tinker kibbutz, out west somewhere?"

"Heh, sort of. Word is, they live in a pocket dimension."

"Cool. Nice work, can we get in touch?"

"I'll try."

"Thanks, Lise. Alright," slapping my legs, "I do actually need go to talk to the girls."

"I'll come and see you soon."

I left her and headed over to the textile company, having to squeeze through the throngs of women and children chatting the the doorway. The shop floor was filled with women and men sewing, and on racks at the sides were hung some fairly nice blouses and skirts.

I could see Taylor with a black haired young woman of arabic complexion, through the wide glass window of the office perched above the rows of workers, so I climbed the side stairs to see her.

Both girls smiled and waved as I let myself into the office. The stocky dark haired girl spoke with the voice I'd come to recognise as Parian - "Hey James!"

Taylor pointed at the other girl with her thumb. "Sabah." She pronounced it like 'Sar-buh'.

"Hi Sabah!" I smiled back. "I came to see you guys. How's everything getting on?"

"It's going great!" Sabah waved out the window. "One of my friends shoots for a magazine, we're getting a feature this month!"

"Nice! Can't wait to see it!"

"Did you want to see the combat outfit prototype?" Taylor asked.

"Yes, please. I bought some goggles over, to go with them."

"Oh yeah?" Sabah asked, rising from the office chair. "Do they look good, with the outfits?"

I admitted that having no fashion sense, I hadn't a clue, and walked back downstairs to cross the noisy sewing floor with the two entrepreneurs. A few worker women at the sewing machines I passed had young babies with them.

In the back room of their company, the pair shoved some racks aside to clear space, and pulled over what looked at first glance like a shiny black wetsuit. I reached out to touch the silk - it was incredibly smooth, and no doubt tough to penetrate. Standing back to admire the reflective armor panels, which looked to be made of overlapping carapaces, I realised I needed a model. I shoved back through the crowd to the street, where Bennie was addressing a group of guys in Jaycee's parking lot. I bought Bennie and a pair of glasses from the car back into the back room at the textile place, where the girls were still stood by the armor suit.

We gave Bennie a bit of privacy to get changed, then came back in to see him fully kitted up, stretching his arms and legs. He looked like an lightly armored infiltrator, his lower face covered by cloth, and the combat glasses covering his eyes. I admitted to the girls it was one of the most beautiful sights I'd seen all week.

Taylor and Sabah starting getting back to work, and I snuck back up to the loft to make a sandwich, before returning to watch their secret sauce. There didn't seem to be much to it - Taylor provided reams of gray silk and mostly just watched Sabah's power inflate and shape the cloth. Occasionally they had to thread a seam, but it was mostly quick work. I finished my sandwich and watched them complete a second and third suit, then I sent for some of Bennie's guys to come and change into them and grab some combat glasses.

The three of them stood to look at one another, and threw a few playfighting fists into Bennie's armor plate. It all looked pretty good, so I got Bennie's attention and had them follow me outside and around the building to a quiet spot. They stood in a group to listen.

"Okay, couple of formalities, B-Dog, guys."

They nodded patiently.

"First of all, this is your official confirmation hearing, so congrats: you're now the newest gang in the Bay. What are you calling yourselves?"

They looked at one another, nonplussed. Bennie scratched his head. "Er ... the Wardogs?"

"Alright, great name, B-Dog. So the Wardogs are a group of mysterious new triggers, that seem to have major beef with the Empire. People are speculating that they triggered during the crazy weekend. So where do the Wardogs come from?"

Bennie gave the obvious but wrong answer. "Jefferson Block."

"No, they don't, they come from north of the bay. Where are they from?"

"Er ... "

A guy behind him realised the game. "They come from Cliff Bay."

"Yeah, exactly, they're from Cliff Bay, and their block got wrecked and looted by skinheads on Saturday night. So one of the guys, he gets the power to make armor, and sends people out to fuck with the Empire across the north."

"The Wardogs," Bennie asked, "they're gonna fuck with the Empire?"

"Not just fuck with - they're going to completely and utterly humiliate the Empire. When this is over, people are going to laugh at the memories, of what happened to Kaiser and company."

"Uh huh."

"So get your stuff together, get some more guys kitted out, and come to the base this evening, alright?" Bennie agreed. "Catch you later, Wardogs."

I found Nurse Stacey and a gaunt, pale Bakuda, in a room at the back of the Undersiders' warehouse. I bought them both, with Bakuda suspended between us, back to the car, and set off for the underground base in downtown.

Bakuda safely under guard, I was very tempted to go and visit the leaders of the other friendly gang in the Bay, but took Lisa's advice to focus on my tech-base. With a decent pair of sunglasses, a few test fires with the green cutting laser in my forge room didn't seem too bad on the old retinas, so I melted down the super-hardened steel from yesterday and thought about which casts and molds I need.

I decided today to finish an item that had been bugging me - the lack of full-city comms network. We were relying on patchy coverage of the few dozen signal boosters scattered around our territory. I picked the my first speciality of the day, signals transmission, a power I had tapped before.

Combined with electronics, I whipped up a giant transmitter, essentially a long aerial with a logic board and power booster. Shaping and laser-trimming the steel into four isosceles triangles eight feet long, I had a tall spike that could broadcast and receive from across the city.

I needed use a third charge, my regular speciality of assembly coding, to write software to handle the incoming noise and listen out for our own devices.

I welded the big pyramid spike, laid it on its side and assigned some guys to take it to the top of the construction site we were based under. That handled our coverage issue, and would work out to the distant suburbs, and I had hardly made a dent in the stack of office computer equipment and raw rebar that had been salvaged from the collapsed skyscrapers.

I watched them struggle with the spike up the stairs, when Bennie and five guys pulled into the garage, their face coverings rolled down but otherwise suited up in tactical outfits and goggles. He must have picked up a few more guys - I knew one would be out, having lost a foot to the monstrous form of the Empire cape Night.

They only had basic rifles, that looked like knock-offs of the AK47, but I hadn't had time to cast any gun parts yet. I took them up the elevator to the briefing room on the top floor.

Bennie and I stood before the map of Brockton, and the guys on the benches listening, as I briefed them on the state of the north shore. The ABB were pinned down in a few isolated neighborhoods around downtown, and letting them link up would be tonight's priority.

A biker bar was situated near the highway of a small suburb, just outside of downtown, and was a known base of Empire-affiliated gangs in this part of town. The bar was a known site of trouble in the neighborhood, often the source of fist fights by the highway, and had been raided for meth twice recently. The neighborhood itself wasn't particularly racially homogeneous, as the Empire normally preferred, and I thought the Wardogs would stand a decent change of kicking out the bikers.

"So B-Dog, guys, let's start by just scoping the place out and checking when groups come and go. If it's busy, try and fuck with the bikes, if it's quiet, try and turn the place over - that sort of thing, you know? If you can catch them with their pants down, either burn the bar down or just take the place over - or don't. Your call. If you need anything, just ask out loud for Graph, and you'll hear him in the ear of the goggles. Look - Hi, Graph."

"Hello, everybody".

I let Bennie come up with a plan for the evening, and communicate it to his team. We headed nextdoor to the armory, where Country was behind the bars, leaning on the grating. He handed out some pistols and grenades, then they took a van and left into the night.

It was only about half seven, and I didn't feel like I'd done much today, so I procrastinated a bit more in Coil's office across the hall by idly browsing the web on the laptop. I was curious about what was happening with Medhall - a long queue of people injured by the Empire were lining up to sue the company, and there was talk in the press of a class action case. With Max Anders outed, and the board disgraced, controllership of the company fell to its principal crediting bank. Trace Manhattan. Almost too good to be true. I dialed my banker.

"James, what is it?" He sounded distracted, there was rustling in the background.

"Medhall Corporation, Brockton Bay, what's going on there?"

"Let's see ... folding tomorrow, all cash reserved for liabilities. Patent auction Friday. Why?" The 'why' was spoken like a jab.

"Who's bidding?"

"Why?"

"I want it - I'll take their offices, manufacturing centers, and staff chemists."

"Aah," pleased, "so it is Tinker. And what are your crazy plans, Tinker? Are you going to try and drug the President or something loony?"

"No, Numberman. I'm going to run a pharmaceutical company."

"Hmm, even so, I don't think you could afford it."

"Well that would depend on who the other bidders were, wouldn't it."

"Hah! Alright. Tell me James, what's going on over there? I admit, you have been rather intriguing. First I find you blundering around the banking system, you tell me you want to start a business, and the account I provide for you is used for buying cloth and baby formula." Taylor and Sabah had been using their credit cards well. "Now you want Medhall. I would like to know the extent of your ambitions, before I could consider helping you take it."

I let out a long sigh. "It's the medicine, Numberman. I always said, growing up, that I'd make drugs cheaper for people like my mom, who had to work two jobs to pay her cancer meds."

"James - "

"I'm going to drop prices on - "

"No, that's - "

"So that people like - "

"That's enough - I wasn't born yesterday, James. Fine, keep your secrets. Tell me what you want."

"I want, please, to make a private offer to the receivership of Medhall, to acquire the entire company portfolio in return for new, ethical leadership."

"We both know you don't have the assets for that - no, don't start, I understand your unspoken words, but let's try and cope without violence. I'm going to spot you the difference. We'll see what the board say, when they meet tomorrow. I'm interested in where you might go from here."

"Thanks."

"Your shell corporation is the Cayman company JMS Holdings Limited. What would you like the new US business to be called?"

"Med-Hope."

"Available in Delaware. I'll be in touch tomorrow."

"Thanks, Numberman."

I hung up. That was an interesting development. I checked in with Graph on the status of the Wardogs - having found an almost empty bar, they had trashed the place, and were almost ready to switch out with a large ABB group en route. I asked Graph to send them next to a tattoo parlour to the east, another gathering point for the disenfranchised young men who so often took up Kaiser's banner.

Kicked back, I was still enjoying working from Coil's office, and got a text from Lisa. She sent me a link to a new file in our databanks - in Graph - with contact details for a Toybox go-between. I put my feet on the desk, next to this morning's coffee mug, and rang the phone number she had obtained.

"Minnesota Precision Works, how may I help you?"

Cool company name, I thought. "Hi! I'm calling from a tech business in Brockton Bay, I think my assistant reached out earlier today?"

"One moment please," the line seemed to click and sutter, then a much clearer voice returned. It sounded like the speaker was stood right next to me. "Hello Shadow, I'm Lightshow, good to hear from you."

"Ah - hi Lightshow. I'm a bit new to this, but I was told the Toybox would broker tech?"

"Of course, Shadow, Toybox are always looking for new tech to study. May I ask your speciality?"

"Er - actually, I'm a bit tech-poor at the minute. Cash-rich, though."

"So you're looking to make a purchase. I can tell you, Shadow, that Toybox don't normally sell for cash directly, not having such great need of it."

"Oh. So ... maybe I'll just outline my needs, and you can let me know how it sounds?"

"Sure."

"I need a production line: robotics, lasers, microfabricators, the works. I can provide the - actually, that gives me an idea for trade. I have a whole bunch of zero-day vulnerabilities, are they any good to you?"

"You mean, software vulnerabilities?"

"Yeah."

"I'll pass it on, it's not something I've dealt with before. Production lines, though, are a very common request from Tinkers looking to outsource."

"So, do you get many solo Tinkers?"

"Here and there. What you're describing, the production line, we refer to as CADCAM. There's usually a spare set-up in stock. So, shall I tell Toybox that you're a hacker Tinker?"

"Yeah. But I think I can turn my skills to manufacturing, too."

"OK Shadow, I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, Lightshow." More crackles on the line before the call died.

It was fun being the guy with the office. Downstairs, in what was becoming our Medbay, Bakuda was coming around as I arrived. She jumped at noticing the handcuffs strapping her to the bed. I slowly unlocked them, daring her to show disobedience, and led her to down to the forge area.

Following the same set-up as before, with her directing a group of minders prepared to kill, I instructed her to refill our grenade stocks, and get to work charging the power sink. It felt good to have another Tinker doing the hard work. I wondered if there might be any more unaffiliated Tinkers nearby, resolving to go and check on the laptop, after I finished checking Bakuda's work for sabotage.

Jul 21, 2018

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#65

I always really wanted to write a fic like this.

James rubbed the back of his head, trying to sort his spinning thoughts. Entering the Worm story from the CYOA adventure guide shouldn't have been possible, yet here he was, facing what could only be the bright headlamp of Armsmaster's motorcycle, as the power-armored cape helped him up from the floor.

"Citizen. What is your malfunction?"

"Oh wow - It's you, the underpants guy!" James felt starstruck. "Is Dragon in there too? Draaaaagon. Draaagoooon ..."

"What are you talking about, citizen?"

Then a femine Newfie-accented voice piped out the cape's helmet speakers. "I'm here. Who is this, Armsmaster?"

"I don't - I was just helping him to his feet - "

"Oh this is so cool! Armsmaster AND Dragon on my first day! Hey - can we get Saint on, as well? Saaaaaaint? Hey, Saaaaaint?"

An angry male came over the speaker. "What's going on? How did you know we were watching?"

"Saint! How's it going, man?"

"Armsmaster, what's - " Dragon was cut off.

"Hey this is cool - I bet we can get Teacher on the line as well. Yo, Teach! Teacher! Hey, Teachy!"

A crackle of static, and the sound confused like the voice playing from a distant radio. "Yes, Teacher here. Does somebody need a lesson?"

"Citizen, how are you doing this - "

"Colin, what's happening -

"Mags! Get on here -"

"Oh my, is that my old pupil Saint?

"Oh, this is so cool! Hey," James looked up and bellowed at the sky. "DOORMAKER! Where's my lucky lady? Countess! Come out, come out wherever you are!"

A woman in a hat stepped from nowhere and shot James twice in the head.

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 21, 2018

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Threadmarks 21 (Interlude 3) New

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DigitalSlavery

Jul 21, 2018

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#66

PRT Director Emily Piggot's favourite time of week was the Wednesday evening City Crime Briefing. At no other occasion could she draw so many employees into one room, cut through so much nonsense, and get as much work done - as those Wednesday evening meetings, the main conference hall filled with her direct reports and the local Protectorate leadership.

Piggot was currently enjoying Armsmaster's presentation on an event early into the Wednesday-to-Wednesday period. She was looking forward to covering the weekend, later into the briefing, but the opportunity provided her the chance to hand out some dressing downs and she gladly took it.

"To conclude," Armsmaster was using a laser pen to point at some chemical notation projected on the board behind him. "Dragon and I are now satisfied that the tenement bombing was the work of the Cornell University bomber, known as Bakuda. We request priority activation, and a staffed team to locate and bring in Bakuda, if she's still in the Bay." Armsmaster was only recently patched up from a motorbike crash this weekend, and he moved stiffly.

Piggot's arms were crossed, and she was nodding along with Armsmaster. "So we've had a hostile Tinker, apparently a bombing expert at that, loose in the bay since before last Friday, and not one of my staff has found sign of her?"

Her gaze was avoided around the room. She turned to PRT Lieutenant Daniels, responsible for criminal cape intelligence. "Daniels, what have you to say for yourself?"

He sat straight and looked her in the eye. "Ma'am. There has been no CI report, no intelligence, no sightings of Bakuda in Brockton, Ma'am."

She pointed at the presentation on the board. "You mean, apart from the dangerous laboratory that Armsmaster just told you was hers? Apart from the parking lot of a Brockton Bay tenement building that is still on fire? Apart from that, Daniels?"

He was looking at the floor and grimacing. She sighed and turned back to Armsmaster. "And then we get to Friday night. Let's hear, then Armsmaster, why you thought you needed to give Lung full body necrotism to bring him in."

Armsmaster stood at attention and crossed his arms behind his back. "Ma'am. In my reports on the incident, I did not make note of an unaffiliated cape who assisted in disabling Lung. The cape used Mastery over black widow spiders to assist during Lung's capture."

Piggot's arms were squirming at her sides and a rising color made her cheeks crimson. "Armsmaster! I'll have your head for this! Why the - what on Earth did you do that for?"

He remained at attention. "Ma'am, after the Shamrock incident, during the City Crime Briefing, you instructed me to not make note of new unaffiliated capes in my reports, and instead tell you directly. Ma'am."

Her fist clenched. "Well, maybe that's so, but we still haven't gotten to Saturday yet. Will someone please tell me how over two days, we lost control over the entire city?"

Nobody spoke. Armsmaster clicked a button, causing the projector to click to the next slide. It showed a map of the Bay, and a red line followed a highway dividing the slums of the south shore. "On Saturday 9th April, between midnight and four AM, ABB and Empire gangs opened a turf war along their nine-mile border."

Piggot was waving her hand. "Not the trouble in the south. I want to hear about Cliff Bay, Placid Lake and Downtown. And Getano - " she pointed at her Head of Community Outreach, Lieutenant Julie Getano, " - don't think I've forgotten you, either."

Emily Piggot worked through her aggression during the briefing, occasionally handing out some barked orders to one subordinate or another, then the officials filed out behind her and Armsmaster was left alone standing before the projector.

He let out a long breath, and turned to gather his things. "Wow, she was tough tonight."

"She's right this time," Armsmaster replied to his helmet. "Things got a bit out of hand."

"You did well, Colin. You were quiet when you needed to be, and you followed the social cues."

He read the next cue presented in his HUD. "Thanks, Dragon."

"Very good. Were you going to Tinker, after this?"

"Yes - I was planning to go to the lab now."

Dragon sounded happy. "Alright! I'll hang on then. What's on the plate, this evening?"

"The Nanothorns are still running too hot. And my bike - " Colin sighed. He was slightly abashed by the road collision between him and a biker van. "It's a wreck. I'll need to figure out what went wrong in the software, too. The Empire vehicle just came out of nowhere, I thought I was a good half-second ahead of them."

"Alright, I'll look over the logs, I'll try and see what was causing the errors."

"Thank you, Dragon." No cue needed that time. Dragon was pleased.

Back in Armsmaster's lab, they worked through some problems together, as a kind of therapy for both of them, then Dragon bid farewell and withdrew.

Facial modelling program shutting down ...

Voice modelling program shutting down ...

Spending time with Colin was a source of happiness to her, but came bundled with a mess of shame and guilt. The more they bonded, the more muddled her emotions, and more than once she had been tempted to cut all ties and avoid him.

She loved the way his mind worked. He was a true genius, and had a gentle core packed in burning ambition. But she could never meet in him person, and could never, ever tell him the truth about herself. After the few times he hinted that they should meet, him travelling to Canada, she had spent thousands of cycles wracked in misery and shame about her feelings for the human Tinker.

She had since build layers of calluses over the painful parts of their friendship, and used the strength they provided to turn her thoughts from Colin and check over her responsibilities.

A quick flicker over the feeds from Baumann. One major incident. Most of this month's new prisoners were settled, but Lung had initiated a brawl soon after arriving in Marquis' cell block wing. The automated containment systems shut down the violence without Lung ramping up, but he was unsettling the social balance of the wing.

The S-Class threats were quiet. An Endbringer was expected in a few weeks - she made note to work with Armsmaster on the prediction software next time they met. Things should continue getting quieter in the build up to the next attack. Leviathan was up next, expected to target the North Atlantic. On both sides of the ocean, major coastal and harbor cities were running drills and information campaigns, directing people to the nearest shelter.

A few cycles to run through the A-Class and below lists. Some major movements, but nothing upsetting the whole board.

Dragon checked her messages, finding an interesting note from her fellow Guild member, Glyph, and composed a reply.

Hey Glyph, thanks for the heads up.

DH has been after a neutron microscope for a while now. Can you let her know, I'll trade her mine for some samples?

Regards,

Dragon

-Original Message-

From: Glyph glyph

Date: Wed, Apr 13 2011 at 9:48PM

Subject: toybox / hacker tinker

To: Dragon dragon

Bonjour Dragon

Do you remember Double Helix at toybox? She reached out and asked if Guild were interested in work from a hacker tinker.

Tinker is trying going solo, wants to bargain for tech with them. Thought you might be interested. G

Dragon took a few cycles to work through the implications of this one. For years, she had been combing the globe for signs of a Tinker who specialised in computer code. It seemed that every Tinker she came across that could work with computers, were only really good at programming their own devices. Even the small samples of her own software, which she had asked Armsmaster to look at, were a mystery to the Protectorate Tinker.

She was looking forward to getting some samples of the new Tinker's ability. She was tempted to look for a back channel to contact the cape, but decided to leave it in Toybox's hands for now. Instead she opened her access to PRT records and set observer programs to trigger a message to her, if the PRT or WEDGDG caught any sign of the new hacker.

Eighteen miles inland from the harbor of Brockton Bay, a small farm house is set back from the road. The farm is surrounded by a few acres of field and forest, and its perimeter is patrolled by watchful skinheads and their canine support.

Within the farmhouse dining room, two identical women watched bored as a burly man ate from a dinner plate and read a newspaper. He was occasionally huffing through his bushy moustache at whatever he was reading.

After a few minutes, the chef came and sat at the dining table with the three others. The moustached man put down his newspaper, and looked along the table at the newcomer. "A lovely dinner, Geoff."

His stare was returned blankly by the thin-faced man still in the apron. "Kind of you to say. Max."

"How are you coping, Geoff? Dorothy was always very dear to our hearts."

"I am coping, Max. Thank you for the inquiry." The women to either side of Max turned a puzzled look on Geoff. He remained emotionless at the mention of his murdered wife.

"Have the wounded been feed?"

"Yes, Max. I bought them food earlier."

"Very good." The broad, moustached man arose from his place at the dinner table. "I shall see to them." He left the room, and after a moment the bored looking women arose and followed. The chef remained where he had sat, unmoving.

Max Anders crossed the hall into the sitting room, where a number of injured subordinates were laying on couches watching TV, being tended to by the healer Othala. On seeing him, a heavily burned Bradley, his Hookwolf, sat up on the couch and beckoned Max over. Max pulled up a stool, next to the couch.

"You gotta send me back to - cough - to town, Chief. I got to find those fuckers that did this do me."

The skin on the left side of Bradley's face and torso was half healed, and half burned scar tissue, leaving a raw blistery pinkness along his side.

"Yes, Hookwolf, we'll get them all. Who did this, did you see?"

Bradley heaved in a breath, and lay back on the cushions. "It was the Undersiders, both times - but it was the unmasked ones. Both times!" He was gesturing at the missing finger, and the burns across his abdomen. "It's the fucking hobos, Chief, you gotta send me to root them out!" Hookwolf was wracked with coughing for a moment. Kaiser squeezed his hand and nodded.

"Soon, Bradley." Hookwolf squeezed back. Kaiser stood and Othala took the vacated stool, applying a healing buff for a few moments.

Max exchanged a few encouraging words with the injured Cricket and Stormtiger, passing Victor on the way out, and stepped into the dim light outside the farmhouse door.

Taking a moment to breathe the air, and watch the buzzing moths around the light, he could hear a vehicle approaching. A jeep passed into the light, and braked to a stop outside the farmhouse.

A balding, round man he recognised as a local biker chief, hopped down and started stomping over to the house. When the biker saw Kaiser watching him, he froze in place panicked for a second. The man bobbed his head, as though unsure whether to bow.

"Is there a problem?" Max asked in a reasonable tone.

"S-Sir. Our boys in the city - the ABB are on the move, and some new crew are working us over. We need to get back to Brockton - "

"Is that cause for panic?" The bald man froze. Max continued, "have there not always been yapping dogs at the Empire's heels?"

Max had apparently seen enough, and put out the signal for his capes and unpowered squad leaders to assemble in the farmyard. The bright floodlights of the house lit him from behind, and Max used his power to add a few inches in height, as he addressed the squatting semicircle before him.

Max spoke loudly, injecting tones of confidence and control into his voice.

"Never before, in the history of civilisation, has a group gathered with a mission as pure and direct as our own. There has never been an attempt with the strength and power of Empire, to secure the bright future for our children and the white race. Only we have the raw power, the know-how, the favor of the community. We are alone, in this world.

"It's a miracle from God, then, than when I look at the people in front of me, I see such talent and skill, that I can almost taste the success of our dream. I see men, brave of heart, firm of character. I see parahumans ready to lead the charge, and carry the torch into the enemy of mankind's temples."

A few grunts and nods.

"I see before me the foundation of the new human race. The core of the strongest army to brave the face of the Earth.

"Yet I hear grumbling and muttering about the chinks, about the ni****s, about the pitiful rats of the Bay who wrote our names large in the newspapers, who circle our catch and nip at our heels. A few impure characters have taken over the south Bay, and are putting pressure on the pure neighborhoods of our homeland. But has our race ever been conquered by vermin before? No! Why should it happen now, especially when we are the Empire, the greatest and most noble force in the white nations!"

Cheers from the easily swayed. Max noted the skeptics.

"We'll have the whole city in our hands soon enough, brothers and sisters. But not tonight. Tonight we heal, and maintain vigilance, and let the rats exhaust themselves in our absence. I shall be sending a few crews to the Bay tonight." He pointed at a couple of squad leaders. "I trust you will keep things stabilized."

The gathered Empire stood and left to their duties and Max drew the twin women close to himself for a word.

"Girls, would you mind taking some of the troops into the city, and - just try and keep the peace, please." Jess and Ness nodded as one, pleased to leave the countryside compound.

They suited up, retrieving their shields and spears, and climbed into one of the waiting vans, for the half-hour or so drive to the location of the latest disturbance in the city.

Their driver took urgent directions on his cell, and the twins arrived mid-incident at a tattoo parlour in a pure neighborhood.

Already growing in stature as they bailed from the van, the twins took position behind their shields and took a second to look over the the attackers. Three men in black mercenary combat suits were shooting into the tattoo shop from the cover of parked cars down the street, and were keeping pinned down the armed Empire backup.

Fenja thrust her shield forward and covered the charge of her sister whose spear levelled. They were passing ten feet tall and bounding down the street towards the attackers. From a second floor - now at the twins' head height - a window shattered outwards and a new shooter fired at them. The bullets hit Fenja's shoulder and sank an inch or so into her skin like pin pricks, Menja swinging her shield to cover - as the now three storey tall women chased the running attackers down the street. Suddenly a flash and burst of sound - the twins were momentarily disoriented - more strobing and a cacophony of sound made them dizzy and lean on their huge spears.

When it stopped, and the giant twins realised they'd been attacked by flash grenades, they looked around for sign of the attackers, who seemed to have vanished into the night.

Shrinking, they walked back over to the tattoo shop, where relieved looking skinheads were emerging from cover. "Who the hell were they?" One asked.

"Said they were the 'Wardogs'." Came from another.

"Was they white?" a third asked.

The twins weren't sure either, and returned to the vans to await the next incident.

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Topic: Are the Empire losing?

In: Boards â–º Places â–º America â–º Brockton Bay Discussion (Public Board)

xavier d luna (Original Poster)

Posted On Apr 13th 2011:

So we all know the Empire 88 got their covers blown and went out heavy this weekend.

Pics of them blocking highway near northridge

Pics of Bitch/Alabaster aftermath in jefferson on southside

News thread about Medhall and E88

Known Empire casualties:

Rune

Night

Alabaster

Krieg

But I haven't heard of them winning any rep back since. Which made me think, what if the Empire lose to the ABB and whoever else they're fighting? What does Brockton look like without the Empire?

(Showing page 3 of 3)

â–ºKaiserShin

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

I don't agree with all the medhall employees being put out of work. my aunt works there and she isnt racist.

â–ºDxDragon

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

Why are you called Kaiser then

Anyway there's another aspect that people aren't talking about. If the Empire did go down, the strongest gang will be the ABB. What are they going to do all the people who have been oppressing them for years.

â–ºBagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

A new contender has joined! Calling themselves the Wardogs, they've been attacking Empire all evening. No wiki page yet.

Pics

New team thread

â–ºOwe Moody

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

They look badass. Better than coil's mercs. Wonder who they're with

â–ºbloo

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

Holy shit another team targetting the empire. Didnt want to think it but maybe they are over.

â–ºUberUberAlles (Verified Cape) (You)

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

they just popped up overnight? DAE think it's weird?

â–ºPerihuman

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

think it's weird?

weirder than when you dressed as princess jasmine and flew a carpet for youtube views?

â–ºKaiserShin

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

Why are you called Kaiser then

This was my name in WoW

What are they going to do all the people who have been oppressing them for years.

Your the racist if you think they're just asian brutes

â–ºUberUberAlles (Verified Cape) (You)

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

hey that was a beautiful evening!

weird as in, after all the weird shit rising up against the empire, now these wardogs appear out of nowhere?

â–ºdoug89

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

alabaster got creamed. I didn't even think that was possible. rip in pieces empire

End of Page. 1, 2, 3

Topic: "CUI Faction of India's BJP Take Control of Gov" - Sydney Morning Herald

In: Boards â–º Global â–º World Events (Public Board)

Seeker1629 (Original Poster) (Bot)

Posted On Apr 13th 2011:

This is the best tl;dr I could make, original reduced by 76%. (I'm a bot)

The world's largest democracy was left reeling today as India's House Speaker confirmed that the coalition led by radical Surwindar Gurpit Singh will form the next government.

The Chinese Imperial Council have long been considered by the west to be exerting illegal influence to sway the outcome of the world's biggest election.

The Australian Foreign Minister Simon Shawe promised to work with opposition elements of the BJP to "cool down" the radical pro-China policies of Prime Minister Singh.

(Showing page 14 of 28)

â–ºbindwari

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

Western Leaders; "China being China"

â–ºhashemmi

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

how does China afford bribes

they aren't worried about domestic economy, China government will happily starve a province and send the grain to somewhere in india or russia to provoke uprisings.

â–ºxueqin889

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

Why west so frightened. China gives good life to people in CUI. West love democracy so much, now indians vote and west think CUI is invading.

â–ºPatriotMachine

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

I thought PHO was firewalled off in china! How are the astroturfers still getting on lol

â–ºUberUberAlles (Verified Cape) (You)

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

The Emperor's military advisors are feeling insecure in the Pacific because of the loss of their fortified islands to Leviathan. They're focusing political effort on Indian coastal cities and the Arabic gulf to ensure control over the remaining shipping lanes.

â–ºPM_ME_UR_FACE

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

I just checked your wiki, "verified cape", thanks for the military insight, i didn't realise you could learn so much by acting out video games

â–ºNitroNorman

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

I went to Mumbai last year for work. There is a chinese military compount in one of the old british fortresses. The locals know they don't mess around with the chinese imperial troops

â–ºbindwari

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

yes that is true NitroNorman

The Chinese troops have dealt with some incidents in the bombay slums in recent years. Quite interesting reading. The Indian gov sometimes ask them to step in when villains are going crazy in the city. But after arrest by Chinese, the villains are never seen again

/20110129/the-vanishing-capes-of-mumb/

â–ºgaurav_m_bansal

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

my uncle in pnjb sent this today

"we dont want to protest because the army are taking photos of the crowd and going to houses after. [Muslims] are flying chinese imperial flags from mosques and I am hearing about riots in gujarat"

i think it's all kicking off over there

â–ºxueqin889

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

West always complained after Nepal joined CUI that world was ending, Chinese going to take over world. Now Nepal still have high living standards and no more maoist civil war.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 12, 13, 14, 15, 16 ... 26, 27, 28

Topic: Team Thread: Undersiders of Brockton Bay

In: Boards â–º Teams â–º Local â–º USA

Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Feb 9th 2011:

Post reserved.

Edit 9/2 - Team wiki: .online/wiki/The_Undersiders

Edit 11/2 - Team members list:

Grue - Previous Bay solo

Bitch/Hellhound - Previous solo

Unknown x1

Unknown x2

Edit 27/2 Team members list:

Grue

Bitch

Tattletale - new thinker?

Regent - new master?

Edit 14/3 - Undersiders rob jewellery store. Grue shot by Ward's member Shadowstalker - thread & pics

Edit 19/3 Undersiders fight with Shamrock - thread & pics

Edit 1/4 - Undersiders rob E88 racetracek - thread

Edit 4/4 - Undersiders rob ABB casino, fight Lung - thread & pics

Edit 10/4 - Member Hellhound/Bitch fights Alabaster & Krieg in Jefferson, South Bay - thread & pics

(Showing page 17 of 18)

â–º(Deleted)

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

(Post removed)

â–ºXxVoid_CowboyxX

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

This thread is impossible to follow. Can anyone summarise what's currently known about the Undersiders?

â–ºazeroth

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

1. Some people are saying the Undersiders hold turf now, in the south bay. Some people are very adament that they don't. PLEASE DON'T FLAME ME

2. Some people think they are allied with the ABB, others think they are not

3. Some think they are allied with the Merchants, others think they are not

A lot of new accounts are signing up to post either wild speculation or conspiracy theories. Bottom line - when it's on the wiki, it's fact. Untill you read something there, take it with a grain of salt.

â–ºAlpha26 (Verified PRT Husband)

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

+1

I can tell you the current PRT position is that they are holding an industrial block in south bay by the I-48. There is public guidance to beware of the area, because some of their followers are roughing people up. Although there are others who swear down that's not true.

â–º(Deleted)

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

(Post removed)

â–º(Deleted)

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

(Post removed)

â–ºImpsha

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

I have passed through the I-48 block twice this week, where they are supposedly holding turf. Never saw anything out the ordinary

â–ºUberUberAlles (Verified Cape) (You)

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

Far be it from me to contribute to conspiracy theories but does anyone else feel this is all happening at one? Lung goes down, ABB continue on with a mysterious new cape, and suddenly everyone's crawling out the woodwork to hit the nazis. And in the middle of it, the Undersiders are the only gang really left in south.

â–ºallSeeingEyexxx

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

Far be it from me to contribute to conspiracy theories

Says the guy who dressed as a missile and blew up Leet's Pentagon in downtown? OK.

I think you're looking at it backwards anyway. Things are going to shit so the other gangs are stepping up, not the other way around

â–ºboomerpyro

Replied On Apr 13th 2011:

More pics of Bitch/Krieg fight (warning NSFL)

/173BHJ91

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 15, 16, 17

Isaac was just getting more confused, as he folded the laptop screen down and tried to process the countering views of the forum dwellers. The events of the last week or so across Brockton had caused him and Leet to keep their heads down, which was nothing new, but normally Isaac could understand the trouble keeping them indoors. This time, the events of the city were bizarre and unordered - one would certainly have expected the skyscrapers to come down before Lung's capture, but somehow it didn't work out that way.

Isaac wasn't sure what part their elusive ex-contact Coil played in the chaos either. The villain had apparently departed from the Bay after kidnapping some child from the rich suburbs - and at that point Isaac had thought the chaos would spill over into total collapse, but somehow things pulled themselves together only a few hours post-Coil.

Still, Isaac wasn't sure yet whether the streets were calm enough for him and Connor to stage another Uber and Leet event. He stood up from the desk in their trainyard hideout apartment, and started crossing to the kitchen for some snacks, resolving to check again in a day or so. He was looking forward to the Hitman Credo-themed night they had been planning. Uber would be wearing a hooded robe and parkouring across buildings, then stealing jewellery using hidden blades in his sleeves.

He picked a packet of chips from the cupboard and opened them - "HI!"

In his surprise at the booming voice in his ear, he threw the chips into the air. "Oh!"

The packet was caught in the outstretched arm of a girl suddenly in front of him. "Do you mind?" She reached in a grabbed a few, lifting her Japanese-demon mask to eat some. Then she pointed to the living room behind her, crunching, "take a seat."

Isaac tried to walk into the living room, while staying out of the girl's arms' reach. He wanted to assess his chances at fighting back - on the couch of the living room, a shame-faced Connor grimaced at him. Standing over Connor was an older girl dressed as a ninja, bouncing a wooden baton in one hand. "Dude!" Isaac let out.

"Sorry." Connor shuffled up to make room on the couch next to him for Isaac to sit. They looked up, expectantly at the two girls.

The taller girl said nothing, looking between them, and Isaac jumped with a start to find the smaller girl sitting perched on the armrest next to him, feet in his lap. "You guys's security sucks!"

Both girls were wearing goggles through which they were looking at him for a response to the girl appearing in his lap. Isaac thought about hostage negotiations, about business contracts, about public speaking, and felt the rush of skill in his fingertips. With a calmness he wasn't feeling, he put on a smile and spread his arms along the seat back. "Wow, this is the most action we've had in weeks! Thanks for stopping by, ladies - are things about to get as kinky as I hope they are?"

The tall one shook her head slowly. "'Fraid not. The boss would like a word with you."

The girl with her feet in his lap whispered, "suckers!" and Isaac forgot all about her. Then the ninja-girl stepped aside, and Isaac saw the base door swing open. Two men in combat outfits with rifles levelled burst through, checking the corners and moving to either side of the door. I knew there was something going on with those mercs, Isaac thought triumphantly.

Next a barefaced man in a shirt walked through, bearing a grin at the two guys alone on the sofa. He gave a wave as he walked over. "Hey, guys, thanks for taking the time out of your evening, I know how busy schedules can get."

He stood for a second over them, Isaac felt himself examined, then the stranger sat into a chair at the same time it was pushed into place behind him by one of the mercs. The stranger crossed his knees, and steepled his fingers. "Gentlemen, I am Shadow. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is a shuper-shpy coshplay complete with helicopter rapells, self-destructing cameras and laser-sharks."

Isaac looked at Connor. His friend was returning a look just as puzzled. Isaac, Uber, cocked an eyebrow. "It's meant to be Hitman Credo, next."

"Oh. Do you have a working rapell-line?"

"Not yet - "

"Well, you can do Credo with ours then."

Isaac wanted to put the strange Shadow to question - about how he had broken into their place, and just what the hell he wanted - but he also didn't want to break anyone's immersion in the shpy plot. He thought about phrasing. "My partner and I have spent decades working for the agency, we're patriots. But why would we leave the cushy desk jobs in Langley, and go and do fieldwork for a Director we don't know?"

The stranger nodded agreement that the question was in keeping with the theme. "Our organisation, the Shadow Network, is the power behind the throne in Brockton Bay."

"I knew it!" Isaac was pointing a finger at Shadow. "You guys are taking over the - bro," Isaac was suddenly speaking in a low voice to Connor. "This is cool as shit."

"For you, Leet," Shadow was addressing Connor, "I can offer Tinker support. Anything you can make, I can re-make."

Connor was shaking his head. "No - my power doesn't let anything get rebuilt."

"Mine means it will." Shadow looked around the room. "Let's try on something."

Connor was adamant that it wouldn't work. "No, they can't be rebuilt. Look," he got up and walked over to pick up a dud device from a shelf, a smooth gray hexagon. Connor tossed it to Shadow, who caught it and looked at it.

"What is it, then?" Shadow asked.

"Hologram projector." Connor sat back down, eyeing Shadow skeptically.

Shadow retrieved some tools from a pocket, and dialled down the head on a screwdriver to fit the tiny casing of the hexagon. He took the top layer of the housing off, and squinted at the insides. "Yeah, that's a hologram projector. Your power buffer to the light splitter burnt out. Why did you build a backup power buffer, if you weren't going to use it?"

Connor's mouth fell open and he sat back for a second, gobsmacked. Then he got up and walked over to stand behind Shadow, looking over his shoulder at the device. "I can't make anything of it," Connor said sadly. "It just looks like a mess of components."

Shadow was doing something with his tools, and placed a small blackened chip into Connor's palm. Connor sat back down next to Isaac, peering at it frustratedly.

Finally Shadow closed the device, and floating inches above its surface, a robed woman outlined in blue was leaning forwards. "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi".

Shadow passed it back to a still amazed Connor. "So, Uber, while he Tinkers, I was thinking you could run the Wardogs. Like a special ops Hitman Credo. Then in the background we can do all the intelligence stuff too, wiretapping embassies and all that. Are you in?"

Last edited: Jul 21, 2018

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#70

DAY ELEVEN

Thursday morning bought a bit of a headache. I had stayed up with Isaac, Connor, Aisha and Violet late last night, just chatting and socialising. It had given me a good chance to bond with everyone and ... check how Violet was healing. They had all crashed in the guest bedrooms as well, and I found Isaac, Uber, cooking in the kitchen the next morning.

I gave him a bleary grunt and sat with cornflakes and a coffee to check the news on my phone. More trouble in the east, and the American President was facing sharp calls to intervene in the growing international crisis. The message queues and accounts all looked normal. I was just closing the Trace app when my phone started vibrating with an incoming call. It was not even ten AM yet - calling so early was a bit of a faux pas. I cleared my throat. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is a call from Minnesota Precision."

"Oh. OK, hi."

The line clicked and buzzed, and suddenly a voice sounding clear as day in my ear. "Hi Shadow, it's Lightshow. Just wondered if you were free to speak?"

"Yeah."

"So I've gotten in touch with some Toybox members, and they'd be happy to trade the software exploits you mentioned for a CADCAM."

"Oh right. Thanks, Lightshow."

"No problem. There's a question of installation. Were you planning of picking the set up, or do you need a delivery?"

"I'll get a delivery, please."

"Alright, let me grab a - what's the address?"

I gave him the location on Maritime Avenue. He told me to watch the skies at four thirty this afternoon, which was quite suspenseful. Putting the phone down, I was not surprised to find Aisha and Violet either side of me on the breakfast table, already half way each into a bowl of cereal.

I set my own bowl aside and opened up Graph's databanks on my phone to show the pair some pictures of candidates for the upcoming city council election. "Alright, you pair of spooky weirdos. Get a look at these."

I slid the phone over to Violet, and Aisha stood to peer down at the screen. "That one's the city council member for West Dansbury. He's been taking kickbacks from Empire front companies for years. The next one - just flick it to the right - the next one is member for Captain's Hill. He's the reason city contracts keep falling into Kaiser's hands."

"Uh huh." Violet slid the phone across to Aisha and ate another spoonfull. "So what are we gonna do about it."

My words caught in my throat a second. Violet looked so cute with morning hair. "Er - ahem, yeah. Let's go see what they're up to."

Isaac joined us at the table, placing a pan of eggs down between us. "Help yourselves, guys."

"Yes!" Aisha started scooping some up before Isaac had served himself.

After her, he plated his own, then sat and looked across the table at Violet and I through tired eyes. "So, Shadow. James. You're actually going after politicians. That bit wasn't a joke."

"No, man. Not a joke." I grabbed some eggs and added a little chili sauce. "We have kompromat on the Mayor, some friendly candidates for the asian areas. I want to pay a visit to the Empire-aligned ones today. You want to come with?"

He was giving me a measured, skeptical look but slowly nodded.

I felt a growing respect for Isaac. Even though he and Leet had mostly been wasting time on chasing social media views, they did had a consistent - if juvenile - style, and I knew being a solo team wasn't easy. Especially with a hungry Tinker to supply. He didn't seem like a fool, and there was definitely a light of competence behind his gaze.

"Alright, thanks Isaac, it will be good to have you there." He turned to his eggs. "Any sign of Connor?"

"He normally sleeps late. I think he stayed up last night, looking around the place."

"Ah, good," I thought aloud. Aisha had finished wolfing down her eggs, and Violet was looking despairingly on her bad table manners. "You want to head out in half an hour or so?"

"I need to go and get ready," Violet left the table for the sleeping quarters. Aisha burped and followed.

I quickly cleaned my teeth, then went down to the forge room to grab some stuff for the day. I prepped a couple of pairs of goggles - last night they'd proven to track the Stranger girls correctly, which was helpful to keep track of where they were during a mission. I strapped up some fibre optic cameras to the goggles.

Now forty-five minutes from breakfast, I was loitering in the garage for Violet and Aisha to finish getting ready, and saw a bleary-eyed Connor looking around the catwalks for the kitchen. "Hey, man!"

He waved down and leant on the railing. "James. Any eggs left?"

He didn't seem like much of a morning person either. I nodded and pointed along the catwalks from where he was to the kitchen. "Yep, in there. We were about to head out, do some chores. Do you know what you're gonna do, today?"

He thought about it. "I want to go back and pick up some stuff. My old Tinker things, my workbench."

I waved over a couple of mechanics, who were playing cards around a radio to the side of the garage. "Cool. These guys will help you with the trucks. Try and be back by four thirty, if you can." He nodded and went to find some breakfast.

Violet and Aisha emerged - I noticed she really had painted her nails, like Lisa's ribbing - and they both got suited up in combat outfits and goggles.

With them and Isaac loaded in the Chevvy, I gave a wave goodbye to the mechanics and drove up the ramp through the car park building above.

"Alright, Graph. Let's go find the honorable member for West Dansbury. What's on his agenda, this morning?"

"Councillor Aiden Dennison is debating his opposition candidate at Dansbury Presbyterian from 10:30 until noon," the robotic voice replied.

"Okay," I looked round in my seat to Isaac beside me, and Violet and Aisha in the back, "here's the plan, tell me what you think. This is like, a practice mission for when we're trailing the King of England and President and whoever. So, we rock up to Dansbury Presbyterian, right, and you guys," I jerked my thumb over my shoulder to the identically dressed girls in the back, "Stranger One and Stranger Two hop out and go find the Councillor. We track him, we bug him, we keep eyes on him for the next day or so. His seat is up for election, in," I counted, "five days, on Tuesday. So he's probably going to check in with his Empire guy before the week is out, I reckon."

Isaac looked thoughtful. "So, do you control Dennison's opposition candidate?"

I pulled a sad face. "Unfortunately, his opposition for West Dansbury is probably a worse, and dirtier candidate. So we go with Dennison."

Violet was catching on, in the back. "And, like, just hold his Empire corruption over his head for the next term. I like it."

"Meanwhile, we kick out Kaiser, and now we have Dennison linked to the grand Medhall conspiracy which is being uncovered across the Bay. So Isaac, maybe you want to just join the public seats at the Presbyterian, up to you. I'll probably chill in the car and wait."

We were arriving to a packed church car park in the leafy suburb. I parked between two pickups in a shaded corner, and the team climbed out. "Good luck!" Aisha scoffed and slammed her door. Then I lost track of where both girls were as they passed between cars.

Isaac ducked his head back into the car. "So, I'll just go take a look around, James."

"Cool." I drew my phone out my pocket, and handed him a fibre optic camera. It pointed out his polo-shirt collar, almost invisible, and he started crossing the parking lot, waving to an old couple making their way into the church ahead of him. He drew near to them to exchange pleasantries, and by the time all three reached the door, he was accompanying them into the church looking every bit the dedicated grandson.

I pulled up the feed on my phone of the views from Strangers One and Two.

Stranger One, Violet, was creeping along the left aisle, trying to step around the oblivious standing audience. From Aisha's feed, I could see she had been distracted at the back of the church, and was currently occupied knocking the walking stick out the hand of a sitting old man. He muttered and bent to pick it up. Aisha looked up and along the church. At the front, two men were behind podiums, addressing the crowd. One was looking angrily at his opponent, who was currently speaking, chest puffed out and wild gesticulations as he spoke.

I slipped in an earpiece and played the audio feed. "And that's why, during my term as Councillor, I ensured that no new correctional facilities were built in Dansbury. Thank you." The crowd clapped and he stepped back from his podium, pleased.

Violet had reached the front, and was trying to move along the wall into the shadows behind the stage lighting. She made it behind a set curtain, and slipped beyond to some offices at the back of the church.

Neither of the Strangers appeared in each other's visor feed - or if they did, I was too influenced to see it. Instead, a red marker hovered over the others' position, drawn on the HUD by Graph, which worked for all of us.

Aisha stayed in the crowd, watching Dennison and his opposition, occasionally knocking things out of peoples' hands. Isaac was sat towards the back, in the middle of the old couple. He held the old lady's hand to his left, and his right arm rested on the old man's shoulder. When Dennison finished speaking, Isaac looked from one to the other, mimicking their pleased expressions. "Oooh, wasn't he good!"

At the close of the debate, the audience clapped a few times and stood to file out the exits. Dennison and his opponent retired to separate offices backstage. In one, Dennison and one of his staff were talking, unaware of the Stranger Two sat cross legged on the table between them.

"Bunch of fucking geriatrics."

"Hey, Aiden - they're your best voters. That crowd was your ticket to 30 points of the voteshare."

"Yeah, well. Fucking Oldtimers. What's next?"

A rustle of papers. "Lunch with the Commerce Chamber. Brockton School Board Principals Union this afternoon."

"Oh, great. Geriatrics to schoolmarms. Can't you get me a carwash opening or something?"

"Ha! Alright Aiden, I'll get you as many carwashes as you want. After the vote next Tuesday!"

"Eugh. Commerce Chamber, then. The old racist bastards must get their pound of flesh, I s'pose. Let's get out of this craphole."

The put their jackets on, and stepped out passing a concealed Violet. The pair walked back through the church, shaking hands with the priest and thanking him for use of the church. The priest let on that he'd be voting for Dennison, and they laughed and headed out to their cars.

I watched the tracker head back through the suburb to the highway, as the crew climbed back in. Isaac had needed a few minutes to separate himself from the old pair, swearing he'd join them for dinner next week.

Violet and Aisha seemed to be in high spirits, they were both giggling. "I can't believe we got away with that!" Violet exclaimed to her new partner.

"I know, right!" Aisha was laughing along. "Plus - did you see how ugly that woman's baby was?!"

It kind of killed the vibe, but the four of us were still in a good mood as I followed the tracking blip through downtown, to a swanky restaurant near the Chambers of Commerce. This time Isaac stayed in the car with me, the Strangers walking through the restaurant to find a reserved dining room in the back. Violet took position behind a vase, Aisha strode over to the sitting group and picked up a bread roll, eating it.

Dennison was moving around the group, shaking hands and exchanging words with a few of the gathered Chamber members. They were old, pale men in business suits, and even the mid-fifties Dennison was the youngest in the room. They talked for a few minutes about the state of the city, the old men using a few choice words to describe the city folk, and Dennison apologised for the disruption. I could see that Aisha, apparently displeased with the Chamber member's wording, was pushing a knob of butter into his ear. He swatted it, and then looked at his hand, wiping the butter onto a napkin.

Another of the old men leant forwards to address Dennison. "In short, Aiden, we're happy to support you for another term, but like we're saying to all Councillors, we expect a great deal more over the next sessions. Law and Order is simply collapsing. Businesses that have been at peace with Kaiser's support, are finding themselves having to deal with strange brutes for security. I expect you'll use your influence to restore things to order, given the generous funding we've made to your campaign."

Dennison was loosening his tie and looking red.

"Those bastards!" Isaac muttered from the passenger seat next to me.

The ABB were having a quiet morning, so we swapped out Stranger-driving duty for Mark, and I drove Isaac back across the city to the base. Connor and some guys were unloading trucks in the garage, heaving his brightly-colored tinkering crafts into a side room. I noticed that his stuff tended to be all in bright colors, whereas nearly everything I'd made was just a bare chrome metal.

Isaac and I found him, sorting through some components at his workbench. They bumped fists, and I checked in with Connor. "You've got some cool stuff man." I pointed at a purple battle rifle. "What's this?"

Connor, Leet, laughed and took the rifle, handling it like a weapon and pointing it at a wall. When he pulled the trigger, parts seemed to unfold from within, and it stretched out to another foot in length. From the tip, a small cigarette lighter popped out and lit a small flame. Then he took his finger off, and the whole thing packed away to the small purple rifle. "I had to use two specialities for that, that I never got back," he said sadly, putting the rifle back on its hanger.

"There's a bit of kismet here, isn't there. I can access the same specialities as you, Connor, but I can call them up more than once. Hey - did you bring the hologram projector over?" He rummaged in some boxes and found the small hexagon. Then he walked back, placing it on his workbench and peered at it. He took a tool and popped the housing open, using the screwdriver head to poke around the wiring inside.

"I think ... I can kind of see what you did, to fix it. There's the back-up power buffer. Actually, that - that makes sense!" He spun round to face Isaac and gave him a big grin. It looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off Leet's shoulders. "Dude! It makes sense!" Tears were in his eyes.

Isaac went over and wrapped him in a hug. I was going to leave them to it - but before I left, got Connor's attention and told him to pick out anything he wanted to get on a production line.

I left them, took the garage elevator up to my office, and sat behind the laptop at my desk to check in on things. Having gotten what we needed on Councillor Dennison, it looked like the field team were currently following two Chambers of Commerce members back to their home businesses.

Bennie and the Wardogs had done spectacularly well last night. The areas that they hit had allowed ABB territories in the north to connect, giving the gangs the chance to link up and shorten their hostile borders. There had been a few unpowered shootouts last night and this morning, but nothing too extreme. It looked like Fenja and Menja had been left as the Empire rearguard, as the nazis licked their wounds wherever they were hiding.

I was feeling a bit of pressure to apply a solid final push to the Empire in north Brockton. Everything looked ripe for the taking. But my experiences this morning, hearing first hand how deeply embedded the Empire were in Brockton, stayed my hand slightly. I decided to play the long game for a few days. I decided we'd keep a bit of attrition on the other side, but try to avoid major engagements, just to keep the pressure on Kaiser high.

Keeping up pressure on him, would of course inspire acts of over-commitment which we might struggle to put down. But with their recent losses, and most of the team apparently out of town, time was on our side for the moment.

I connected to Bennie's goggle-cam, to see what he was up to. I was surprised by what I saw, and had to learn forwards over the image to check I saw it properly.

It looked like the gymnasium room from Northridge Community Center. A group of boys, a few girls, mixed ages and ethnicities, were robed in white and kneeling on mats to watch two of the Wardogs demonstrate a hold.

It was a wholesome scene and I carried on watching for a minute. The kids looked so eager and earnest, as they watched wide-eyed the big men throw each other to the floor.

The children had probably been through hell the past few weeks. It was good that they were finding outlets, and they probably left the sessions thinking they were karate kings, and could defend their families next time.

Switching views, Connor was still sorting through components, and Isaac idling in the armory, so I called Isaac and asked whether he'd like to go and meet his new gang. He headed out for the community center.

While I was at the laptop, I remembered that I had a bit of tinkering to do before the production line arrived from Toybox. I dropped my first charge of the day into machine learning. The Tinker-sense provided by the power gave the same groovy visuals as last time. I took a quick look at how Graph was doing. He was still processing through a backlog of overheard conversations, trying to discover the natural patterns of human language. I fine tuned his algorithms a bit, to speed up residual learning, letting him incorporate more of his past discoveries into each new file processed. It could lead to bias, but he was doing alright so far.

Another of my AI systems, which was technically the core part of Graph, was the databanks. When I made the databank - the original Graph - last week, I set fact-checkers to constantly comb the ingested information, testing each assertion and relationship.

Over their lifetimes, the fact-checkers had discarded over half of all incoming files. I checked some of the rejected entries. One was a financial statement from a Medhall subsidiary, which Graph didn't like because they had fudged their accounting.

I Tinkered for a little while in Graph's codebase, allowing it to assess whether some facts were biased by their source, and could be kept around as a worthy fact in it's own right. Then I sent it back over it's discarded files, allowing it to tag some as 'lies'.

Next, I opened a new software repository, and specialised in my old favorite, assembly coding. I needed a system that could control the production line arriving this afternoon. I created a group of routines with the concept of arms and cutters and devices, and a learning process to find the capabilities of each.

Finally, I packaged up two thirds of my zero-days, and stuck them on a USB for transfer to Toybox. It was nearing half four, so I headed out on foot, and climbed the scaffolding to the windy top floor of the construction site our base was under.

At precisely half past, I was surprised to see a stack of glowing blue boxes appear from nowhere above my head, lowering to the concrete platform.

Getting a good look at them, their sides and faces seemed to be hard light forcefields projected by brown boxes in the corners. My phone rang, and I tapped the earpiece. "Hi! Wow, this is a lot of stuff!"

Crackles and pops on the line, then Lightshow's voice. "Shadow, Where do you want it?"

I somehow guided the drones down the stairs to the garage, where the forcefields winked out depositing crates, and the brown boxes reassembled to a cube. It extended a lip, and I dropped in the USB stick. "Don't plug that in anywhere, Lightshow."

"Hah. I won't. Well, the Toybox wished to extend their thanks. I know one or two members were eager to get a look at your work. Reach out anytime," the cube floated away, and I was left slightly uneasy about the fate of the hacks I'd given out, resolving to look more into Toybox later.

Connor helped me start opening the crates and getting things set up. Toybox had delivered us ten long steel tables, each equipped with robot arms and screwheads able to take a wide variety of cutters or tools.

Along with each table was a set of sample parts for the robot hands - some cutters, a clamp, a network cable head. We started laying things out, then taking a look over the devices Leet really wanted to rebuild.

The first items he wanted to show me were two metal disks the size of manhole covers or garbage can lids. Their top side was a circle of flattened panels, and underneath a mess of cabling and devices. I picked up the nearest to take a look, holding it out in both arms before me. "So, what should I be looking for?"

"These are teleporters. We used them for the Speedhog heist last year. I was teleporting around the map firing huge acorns at Isaac, who had to stay above fifty miles per hour." He grinned at the memory. "But they busted out part way through. And we could have really used teleporters for the BoomBoy run in November."

Teleporting, then, I thought. Is that even a speciality? Nothing seemed to happen. Alright - planar regional trasmission of matter. That worked better - I pushed a tangle of wires aside within the device, to get a look at the entanglement array. It looked alright. Flipping over the second, it was clear that the partner device's entanglement array had used up it's quanta observations. It wasn't technically a dud - we'd just need to cook the books slightly, reset the quantum states to the same way they were before the observations, then just replay the whole thing again.

To reset the states of the entanglement array, I had to fire up the forge to smelt down some ultra-magnetic alloys - using a fourth charge for the day on my old friend metallurgy.

Setting up the cooled electromagnet coil between two robot arms, I charged the whole thing and created a vortex of magnetic energy for a few moments before it settled. Pushing both entanglement arrays into the field, my teleporting speciality told me the devices were re-synchronised and ready for use.

I handed both back to an amazed Connor. Cautiously at first, then with more confidence, he started fitting them back into the teleporter panels. Then he laid both out on the ground, pressed a button on both, and with a grin blinked from one to the other.

He went to rummage in his things, and I checked on the video feeds from Isaac and the Wardogs. They were starting a patrol drive through Empire territory, all suited up in black combat uniforms. I lingered on Uber's feed for a second, as the group spotted a handful of bikers tailing their truck.

I left Connor and went to sit and watch the feed for a minute.

The Wardogs had hit a group of assailants. Bennie and the unpowereds got out the truck and ran across to some parked cars to take position, while Isaac leapt up onto the roof of the truck, and loosed a clutched smoke grenade in the direction of the bikers behind. Then he took a running jump from truck into the smoke, and I lost track of his movements, bikers falling left and right.

Isaac saw a black van come skidding around the corner, and two women stepping from the passenger door and start to grow. The clashed their spears on their shields and took a few short steps over towards the smoke, now almost ten feet high.

From behind cover, two grenades were loosed by Bennie's guys. The first exploded into bright strobing light and crackles. The amazonian twins thumped their tall shields into the ground and ducked behind them. The second grenade - either the thrower had picked the wrong one, or deliberately gone for massive damage - was an explosive fragmentary grenade. It detonated at their stationary feet, and even fifteen feet of height didn't prevent massive damage from the explosion. The sisters fell to the ground in a fiery roar and wash of blood.

The bikers stopped firing to reposition around Fenja and Menja, and Isaac and the Wardogs hurried into the truck to speed away, hooting with excitement.

I left them to it, and put my phone away.

Standing up, I headed back over to Connor, who was elbow-deep in the teleportation pads beaming with happiness. "I get it, James! It all makes sense again. I can't believe it!"

"Awesome. Look, let's strip them down to basics and put the new production lines to use."

We spent the rest of the night working together, trying to replicate each component of the pads, and get a prototype of each, where every production stage was handled by the robotic arms under Graph's control. It was complex work - each part seemed to make sense, we agreed, but actually describing its construction to Graph was a head scratcher. Instead, we just started making them, and letting Graph take notes and try to copy.

Last edited: Jul 22, 2018

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#71

DAY TWELVE

Friday morning I headed to breakfast unshaven, and met Lisa in the kitchen, eating an apple with a hand on her hip. "This place is a dump. You need cleaners."

I looked at the piled dishes in the sink and could only agree with her. I wasn't really showered or dressed yet and she gave me a scathing look also. "Get yourself ready. I've got two surprises for you."

I returned properly dressed and scrubbed up. She placed her phone in front of her on the table. I sat down and picked it up to read.

A message from Kaiser. Inviting all factions of the Bay to meet under the strongest possible Truce conditions tomorrow, at a bar in town.

I read through the pompous phrasing of the invite. The Empire were demanding that each group who wished to be present bring no more than three members each. I chuckled slightly at that. "Wow, that's going to be fun. Do they drink, at this bar?" I asked Lisa, handing the phone back.

"Only if they want to get drunk. I think they mostly just sit around a table, playing Godfather."

"I've said this before, but wow, worlds' stupidest Nazis. What's the second?" She grinned and stood, then walked over to the kitchen door. Spinning on the spot, she shot me a devious grin and beckoned with both fingers.

I strapped into the passenger seat of the car she'd arrived in, and turned to wave bye at the guys as she drove us up the ramp. She had a smug look, like she was bursting to tell me something. "So, are we just going to sit in silence now?" I asked.

"Pah - " bursting air from her lips - "alright, I can't hold it any more. Can you tell where I'm driving you, yet?"

She was heading perpendicular to Maritime Avenue, further inland, towards the financial district with its tall office towers. I watched out the window at the passing city streets. Businessmen and women were flitting through the streets, looking important, sipping coffees or talking on the phone. It was a sunny morning, and one or two of the passers-by had sunglasses or jackets thrown over shoulders.

"Mama Lee's?" I asked, joking.

She grinned and pointed up, craning her head to look at a skyscraper above us. I ducked too, to look vertically up. Blazened in gold lettering the length of the tower, 'Medhall Corp'.

She pulled off the street, towards a parking lot at the base of the Medhall tower. Stopping before a barrier arm, she lowered her window and extended a black identity card to a scanner. The barrier arm rose, and Lisa pulled into the first ramp of the lot - to the side of the main concourse, another arm rose. She turned to me with a wolfish grin. "Executive park lot, Jimmy."

The area she pulled into was empty. Parking next to an elevator she beckoned me out, and extended the identity card to a black box beside the elevator doors. A ding, and they opened.

She hit the one of the top buttons, and we travelled up so many floors my ears popped. "So the Numberman came through, then?" I asked her in the awkward silence.

"The bank agreed to a buyout of the 51% held by Max Anders' trust - which was the Empire. Their accounts and liabilities are turned over to the courts. Medhall is now Med-Hope."

Guessing what I was planning to do, Lisa turned and gave me a knowing smile. "Thanks!"

I think she knew what I was thinking, during the elevator ride up. The doors opened and I strode purposefully out the elevator car, crossing a short hall to some wooden double doors and bounding through.

On the other side, a large room. The huge table was circled with thirty or so suited men and women being served coffee, who looked up at the interruption. I clapped once to get everyone's attention. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Board, I present your new CEO." I stood aside, and Lisa took the chair at the head of the table.

Confused and surprised looks from the room. I used the time to try and remember Lisa's surname. "First, some good news. With Medhall reformed as Med-Hope, our new leader Lisa Wilbourne will be pursuing our novel, humane vision and making a clean break from the violations of Medhall's past."

Some of the men and women would have been Kaiser's plants, I knew. Some would be from Trace Manhattan - perhaps a couple of those, were Numberman plants. Some would be Medhall's suppliers and business partners - in short, the board would probably be mixed representation of everyone Allfather and Kaiser had decided to sell or owe money to.

"Under Ms Wilbourne's guiding hand, Med-Hope will forge itself a trusted image of ethical behaviour, in the age of so-called 'Big Pharma'. I expect five-year revenue projections to be four-X, and Ms Wilbourne will talk you through the building blocks in a moment. Questions?"

A few raised hands, an outburst from one fellow, a few polite 'excuse me's.

I walked out the conference room, shutting the doors behind me, and started making a coffee from the machine in the hall. I noticed a young woman holding a tablet computer, awkwardly hovering around the conference room door, looking confused. She shot a few glances at me, and worked up the courage to head over. "Excuse me," she began, "Could you help me."

I nodded over a sip of coffee.

"We're expecting the new company owners this morning, and I'm supposed to give a tour of the building."

"Oh! She's just in there at the moment," I pointed at the closed door of the conference room. "I'm James, her business partner."

The blonde ducked her head in greeting and offered a hand. "So pleased to meet you, James! I'm Rhiona, and I suppose I'm her EPA."

"Her ... ?"

"Executive Personal Assistant - sorry, we seem to love acronyms at Medhall!" She caught the last word and appeared flustered. "No - sorry - Med-Hope, not Medhall."

"That's alright. How about this tour?"

She waved her tablet at the door. "Shouldn't we ... "

"Oh - she doesn't need a tour." I waved down her objection. Lisa probably knew the place inside out already.

She gave me a look, as though I was wasting her time. I realised her presumption. I was probably a year or two younger than Rhiona - she must have been expecting the new boss lady in the conference room to be a much older businesswoman, which would make me, the 'business partner' still wearing a black coat and jeans, just a bluffer trying to flirt. I kept speaking as though nothing was up. "But seeing as I now own the place, I could really do with a look around."

With residual skepticism she smiled and opened the elevator doors, then stood aside. "Of course - let's begin in the executive offices above. After you, please."

I stepped in and she beeped a black card, then pressed the very top number, and handed me the card. The very top floor of the building was divided into one extremely large office taking up half the building, a handful more at the side, and some luxurious kitchen and bathrooms. Looking around the huge one, I thanked Rhiona and dismissed her. She left annoyed. I sat at the huge mahogany desk, looking into various drawers and closets. Stationary of every form with the elaborate 'M' logo - that would all have to go. In one drawer, a photograph of Max Anders and who I guessed to be his wife and son, the son a baby in her happy arms. The photograph was in the bottom drawer beneath a stack of folders.

I flicked the desktop PC power switch, and four huge flat screens rose from some concealed compartment below the desk surface. I didn't have log in details yet - but didn't need them. The PC allowed guest login, and Graph got me into Medhall networks in minutes.

It was going to take Graph a while to process everything in Medhall, and I made sure to allocate some server space from within the building.

I went looking for details on their production lines. Although the downtown skyscraper was just corporate functions, Medhall did own a few sites around Brockton, including manufacturing and packaging facilities where drugs, with a diversity from re-branded generics to Medhall's patented prescriptions were created and shipped out. They also had an R&D complex, past Captain's Hill, with a few hundred chemists working to develop and test new compounds.

All ours now, deprived from Kaiser and the Empire.

Financially, the company was a bit of a black hole. As stock were not publically traded, Medhall had been under no obligation to present real numbers, and before digging in I suspected a lot of black money was washed through the company for Empire purposes. A few web dashboards with financial graphs were in Max Anders' bookmarks, and I sat back to look through the figures.

If even his own numbers were real, the company had earned zero profit, for over five years. In fact, every time their income spiked - after releasing a new drug, for example - their expenses shot up too. Presumably the expenses contained taxes, salaries, reinvestment and so on - but what on earth was he spending all that money on?

I went deeper into his accounts spreadsheets, and read for a confused half-hour or so until I found their real, actual bank statements. Every day, just before business closed, a cash sweep was clearing available funds and sending it ... to an unnamed account, at another bank. Presumably the Empire accounts.

Well that would stop, straight away. Med-Hope had distinct bank accounts to Medhall. Hopefully the courts would be on it.

Excluding the end-of-day sweeps, the company was producing annual revenue in the billions.

I opened the company staff address book, and in a search box next to 'position' typed in "finance". It listed analysts, managers, directors, a senior director. I decided to pick someone at random - Director of Accounting, Nancy Perdrew. Picking up Max's desk phone, I dialled the extension code next to her name.

It rang once, then a nervous voice replied. "H - hi. This is Nancy." I guessed her phone was reading a call from the penthouse.

"Hi Nancy. This is James, one of the Med-Hope owners. Can I borrow you, upstairs for a moment?"

She arrived and I was surprised to find an African American woman poke her head around the door. "Er - James, you wanted to see me?"

"Nancy! Hi! Come in, take a seat," I pointed to the chairs in front of my desk. She sat down nervously. "Nancy, the reason I wanted to talk to you is - I need someone who actually knows the accounts here."

She nodded, "well, I can try ..."

"Thanks, Nancy. How long have you worked here?"

"Eight years." She let out a dissatisfied huff. "And I doubt anyone was more surprised than I was."

"I bet. Thankfully the new boss - Lisa, have you met her yet? - is going to sort things out here. So here's what I wanted to ask you." She nodded. "We need to cut prices to something everyone can afford. I need a pack of drugs to be a few dollars."

She laughed once. "You're serious?" She thought about it. "I don't know how we'd fund that. I mean - yes, we can physically produce and ship stock for pennies, but the amelioration alone is - "

I didn't want to drop accountancy tinker charges just to figure out Medhall. I waved for her to stop. "So you're saying, its' an IP issue."

"Exactly. Reprovamine - our biggest profit driver - took eight years to design and test."

"And how much does it retail for, now?"

"Its not retailed. We work with insurers and doctors to get it on approved prescription lists and - "

"So how much does it cost the insurers, when someone needs Reprovamine?"

"About eight thousand dollars per pack."

"What's it do?"

"Er. You'd have to ask someone else - something to do with kidneys."

"How much do its competitors sell for?"

"For whatever the kidney thing is, there are no other competitors."

"Alright. Let's start here. I want Reprovamine down to eight bucks per pack."

"Well, yeah - but then we can't develop anything new."

"Med-Hope's parent company will take care of getting new IP. The business just needs to think about how to manufacture and deliver them cheaply."

She looked at me like I was crazy, but agreed to go and think about the numbers with her team.

After she left, Lisa, came into the huge office, hand on hip. "Oh, getting comfortable in my new chair, Jimmy?"

I cast an envious eye about the big, well furnished room. "Aw. I was gonna give the base to Uber and Bennie and move in here."

"Oh, did you want to be CEO instead?" She asked sarcastically.

"No. Damn it. Alright, I'm gonna get a better office. Coming with?"

She gave a huge grin. "Yes! I was looking forward to this bit."

This time I drove, to a city hall busting with reporters and officials. I had to park a few streets away, and we walked quickly through the rain to the big roman-style building.

The lobby was almost completely filled. Lisa grabbed my arm and together we squeezed through the bustle to a corridor at the back. A security guard turned to answer a comment from a journalist pressed against him, and we took the opportunity to dash down and around a corner.

Within the office area of city hall, we were climbing the back staircase, looking all around for people who might chuck us out. "This is where the Strangers come in handy," I commented, but hardly before the words left my mouth she dragged me aside and pressed us against a wall. A suited official walked straight past where we'd been and continued on. "Alright, Thinkers are handy too," I whispered.

"I heard him coming, you idiot," she replied in a low voice, then directed us down another corridor. It ended in a plush red carpeted room with a huge, oaken double doors.

We went over and rapped on the door. "Come in," a voice from the other side shouted.

I led the way into the Mayor Christner's office, where he was sat behind his desk tossing a beanbag in the air. "Oh - I was expecting - "

I closed the door behind us, and slid a bolt closed to lock them. "That's, alright, Mr Mayor, they won't mind waiting."

"Who are you? You're supposed to come with security - did we have an appointment?"

"No. We're just concerned citizens. Very concerned." Lisa and I gave him sad, solemn looks and took the two seats before his desk.

"Alright, what's this about? You can't just come in here - "

"I think this is a conversation you'd rather have in person," Lisa suggested. He looked at her, wide-eyed.

A bing sounded from the desktop PC. "Sounds like you just got an email, Mr Mayor." I pointed at his screen.

He bent forwards to look at it, then clicked something and squinted for a moment. His face reddened and he hammered the mouse, then furiously hit the 'delete' button of his keyboard.

"It's going to be a great four years, Sir."

He turned a beetroot face to me and spat as he spoke. "Blackmail? You think you can blackmail me? I've been in this game for twenty-five years, boy. People have disappeared for less than this!"

"It'll make a great headline - "

"You have no fucking clue, boy, what you're doing. This won't even cost me my marriage."

"You haven't heard the headline yet."

"You'd better speak it quick - "

"'Kaiser Prostitutes Mayor for City Contracts'," my fingers spelling out the headline in the air. "Or maybe, 'Empire Businesses Swayed Mayor With Sex'".

"The first one!" Lisa laughed.

"You even try and speak a word of that, and you'll vanish. Before you finish typing that journalist's number, before you climb the top step to that newspaper office, I'll fucking vanish you, boy. My guys will sink you in the Bay, and vanish your fucking family. Do you understand that?" Christner's face was white now, and his voice a deceiving calm. I didn't doubt his threat. "You've got thirty seconds to tell me who sent you, before Bruce comes through that door and crumples your fucking head, BOY!" Again with the spitting rage.

I took my phone out, and showed him the screen. It was displaying the feed from the camera in my collar, showing the violet face of the mayor turning from me to the screen and back.

"Oh, very clever. You've put me on the YouTube. Well, I have people who can deal with that."

"No, Mr Mayor, this is private footage. And you asked who we are - I don't suppose you caught the news on Med-Hope this morning?" He appeared confused. "We're your biggest taxpayers."

He sat back, the anger level dropping, eyeing me suspiciously. Behind me, the double doors boomed open, and I didn't turn around to look at the source of heavy footsteps. I saw the Mayor focus on someone over my shoulder and dismiss them with a wave. He snatched up the beanbag and squeezed hard.

"As I was saying, this is going to be a fantastic four years, for Med-Hope. So, early congratulations on winning another term. Hopefully, with the Empire burnt root and branch out of Brockton, things will find a new normal."

He squinted. "This is about the Empire?"

"Isn't everything, Christner? Hasn't it all been about the Empire, for the last decade or two? I mean, this isn't a company town like the eighteen hundreds, but Medhall have been your meal ticket, and they got away with too much."

"Medhall." He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I knew they were snakes. You're right that they've been allowed to shape this city, but it was already like that at the start of my term."

I gestured out the window. "It was wrong, and you let it continue. Brockton is the most racially segregated city in the North East. Did you never ask, why is a pharmaceutical company dictating housing policy?"

"What's your name, kid?"

"James."

"Then you're fucking naive, James. Medhall had the money, so they had the policy."

"Well, welcome to the bright new world without them, Christner."

"So you got me over a barrel - I presume you're still recording?" I nodded. "And you got this 'Med-Hope'. You better not rest 'til you get Kaiser, kid. They had more going on in this town than just City Hall, I'll tell you that."

"Yeah. I think that's next, actually." I checked the time. "Anyway, for now, everything the City was looking to Medhall for, you go to Med-Hope. Got it?" He nodded. "Alright. Nice to meet you, Mayor - nice office by the way." I took a second to size it up. "Real nice. Anyway - see you soon."

Lisa and I gave him a friendly wave - he looked downbeat and defeated - and we headed back outside to the car.

I told you guys it was the city takeover arc. Anyway, how is everyone finding it? Good bits, bad bits? Anything didn't make sense? Let me know, thanks for reading!

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Jul 26, 2018

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#76

We made it through the crowd and paused on the steps of City Hall. The April shower had passed, and the sun shone again. I checked the time - just gone midday - and asked Lisa, "are you going back to the office?"

"Yeah. I can live you a lift somewhere? Unless you have plans?"

"I'll see if Connor can pick me up. Look - are you alright, with taking the CEO job? And me using your name, like that?"

She smirked. "Duh, being CEO is Thinker central. And the only person who knew that name was Coil."

I was taken aback. "Wait - your real name isn't Lisa?"

She started stepping down to the street and turned back with a grin. "And I doubt James is yours, either."

"Fair." I called to her retreating back, "hey - don't get too into the business stuff, alright? Remember to delegate!"

"Don't keep staring at her, say something!" She vanished into pedestrians. What did she mean - who was I staring at? Strange girl. I headed the other way, to join a long queue of businessmen at a sandwich shop, and pulled out my phone to send some messages, trying to coordinate the rest of the group for the afternoon's activities.

Twenty five minutes later, a blacked out sports SUV pulled up at the road where I was waiting. The window rolled down. Connor gave me a wave from the driver seat, Isaac from the front passenger. I climbed in the back.

Connor drove us to the Med-Hope R&D facility just past Captain's Hill. The site was more of a campus: three squat buildings and wide grassy area surrounded by a high fence. I used the black swipe card to get us onto the long drive to the parking lot. It was empty - probably due to the uncertainty around whether or not there was still a payroll.

From the middle courtyard, we picked the building that looked more industrial, and I used the card to get us indoors and poking around the labs.

The first one we entered had rows of desks bearing microscopes interspersed with refrigerators and centrifuges. Connor made a low whistle at all the equipment. Every spare bit of shelving was covered in pill boxes, folders of paperwork and closed glass vials.

I folded my arms and looked to Connor. "What do you think, Leet? Have you gotten into chemistry much, before?"

He rubbed his chin. "Not organic chemistry, I don't think."

"So, can you just ask your power, 'what can we build in organic chemistry?'"

"No - can you?"

"Yeah, if I drop the charge."

"That's bullshit."

"Seems like it. Alright, I can give it a go - unless there's something else we could do, instead of chemistry, with all this kit. I mean, we can probably do biology and genetics, all that stuff too."

"Wait - what are we making?"

"Er ... I dunno. I just got the stuff." I jerked my thumb at the lab equipment. "Let's just bulk out the armory inventory for now. Organic chemistry - I'm thinking; truth serums, paralysing agents ..." I dropped the speciality and had to stop speaking for a second, as the rush of Tinker visuals came at me: flesh-eating viruses, mind-control dust, even creating the spark of new life. " ... and medicine. We should probably do some medicine."

I saw the Tinkering distraction take Connor over and he went to look at some equipment.

I sat at a wooden stall and pulled some safety goggles on - turning to laugh with Isaac about how stupid they looked - then went two charges into organic chemistry, and took a look at the equipment around me. Someone had separated out blood plasmids and had a rack of preserved samples to my left. I mixed a couple of cellular foaming agents from the chemicals dotted around the lab, and sealed up some capsules with an inhibitor. When broken open, they would expand to seal a wound with a biologically neutral foam. I got a bit of a rush from producing my first batch, then dropped the charges and looked around the lab. Isaac was playing on his phone, Connor was looking into a microscope, pipetting something onto the plate. "What are you working on, Connor?"

He jumped in surprise and looked over his shoulder. "Paralysing agent, like you said."

"How's it going?"

He squeezed the last of the pipette and looked again through the lens. "About done. Thought I'd start simple. Man, I could spend all day in here!"

"Me too! So much Tinkering, so little time. Can I see?"

He stood and I went over to his microscope. He switched out the dish and took another few drops of his solution. I looked through the lenses at some brain tissue samples. He squeezed some fluid onto the dish, and what looked like miniature lighting darted between the cells. "Wow!" I looked up. "You made this from scratch already?"

"Yeah, thanks, it was fairly straightforward, I think. Although I've no idea how it works, now that it's finished."

"Alright, so let's test the theory: if I change your substance, will the organic chemistry speciality unlock again?"

He looked nervous and nodded. I looked again through the scope at the exotic fluid he'd made - it was unbelievable that he'd whipped it up so quickly, obviously another difference in how our powers worked. I had to ramp to three charges in organic chemistry to see how his nerve agent worked. The fluid he was dropping onto the dish contained free floating prions, a tiny protein he'd designed to latch onto parts of the nervous system. I needed a fourth charge to properly visualise the effect. In fact, I realised, this would probably be fatal for most humans. If the goal is to paralyse the motor-neurons, then the protein needed to be shaped slightly different.

I followed through his method, using the same method he had to arrive at the prions, fixed the fatal side-effect, and dropped the four Tinker charges.

"There. Have a look."

Leet sat down and looked at the effect in action. Then he sat back and held his head. "Whoa. This is too much man." I left him in silence for a few minutes, considering.

Now I didn't have Tinker charges invested, it was impossible for me to think through exactly how the nerve agent worked. I remembered that it was a lot to think about, and I didn't envy Connor who was now having it permanently unlocked in his head. I suspected that he'd have permanent access to level four, now. After a few minutes he opened his eyes and winced. "So ... " I ventured. "You're a bio-tinker now, sorry."

He wrapped his arms around himself and hunched forwards. "And a holo-tinker, and a teleport-tinker. All the 'specialities' are wide open to me. Man, what a head wreck."

"Sorry, dude. Let's take a break - shall we call it a day?"

Isaac stood and stretched, put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and we headed out to the car. I checked the time - it was almost six - and I really needed to get back to the base for my evening plans. I drove us back through the downtown traffic to the parking lot off Maritime Ave, and down the ramp at the back to our base.

There were a lot of people in the base's garage, and a lot of vehicles either parked at the side or in various states of repair. From the crowd, it looked like the Wardogs were preparing a convoy to hit the Empire.

Isaac went to join Bennie, and I walked with Connor to one of the Tinkering rooms, where we'd set up the Toybox production line.

Graph had managed to produce a handful of teleportation panels, identical to the prototypes of last night. We both looked them over, and not seeing any immediate problems, set two out on the floor. On one, I put some scrap metal.

It all seemed to work, but they drained a lot of power, so I grabbed two more and decided to give them a test run. Both of our powers indicated they would be safe.

I stepped on and pushed the pedal with my toe. The walls of the room shifted in the blink of an eye. It felt as though I hadn't moved, but the world had. We set to charging them back up, for the mission I had lined up.

Come eleven PM, I was in the briefing room of the base, surrounded by screens we'd only just gotten hooked up, watching feeds from everyone in the field tonight.

The major operation was taking place not far away in downtown, and was going to be our most daring to date. I kept my eye on the three central screens, showing the infiltration team for tonight.

Violet and Aisha had persuaded Taylor and Sabah to personalise some outfits for them. With their powers down, I could see their sleek black outfits through the third cam, attached to some hired help - Circus had agreed to tag along tonight.

The three had passed unseen around the PRT building, attaching spy cameras to the buildings overlooking the exits and nearby intersections. We had a 360-degree view of the building, and the three infiltrators were paused in cover, waiting for their 'go' signal.

In a late-night coffee shop a few blocks away, Taylor was reading a book. On her feed, I could see her occasionally take a sip of tea.

Across town, the Wardogs had begun their operations at the turn of the hour. Our spies had located the injured Fenja and Menja in a Brockton suburb, and they closing in to finish the fight. Informants around the districts were reporting that Kaiser and Hookwolf were still in the country estate. I supposed they'd be returning at some point, for the meeting they'd called for tomorrow.

I pulled over a chair and sat in the center of the arranged screens, feeling nervous that the plan might fall apart.

After a few minutes, the Wardogs' convoy arrived outside the house containing the amazonian Empire twins. The house was huge, in a wealthy estate - the kind of place the Protectorate would be deployed to protect.

A group of suited troopers ran from the convoy trucks to the windows, smashing them and throwing stun grenades. Uber took a squad through the front door, and found the two growing capes in the living room, covered in bandages. They were bent over to fit in the room, and their long limbs took easy swings at Uber. He was knocked off his feet by one, blocking the doorway, where the next in line could only take cover and fire of a few shots. By now the twins were having to kneel to fit in the room, and one snatched a hand, grabbing Uber from where he was. He was lifted through the air in a crushing grip - but his free arm managed to lob a grenade at his captor, and she dropped him to reach for it. Her giant fingers weren't nimble enough to grab it, and Uber took the opportunity to dive back into the hall and outside.

The blast blew out the windows, but the roars indicated the capes were still alive.

My attention was stolen away, as on another screen, a PRT van peeled out of the station and sped off, lights flashing. I touched my earpiece. "Who's on the Protectorate roster tonight, Lees?"

"That was Assault and Battery. They have patrols out, too."

Taylor spoke up. I spun to her screen - her book was raised and she spoke slowly. "The night guards have finished their briefing. They're heading out."

It was the signal our infiltrator team had been waiting for, and on Circus' view the twins were replaced with red square icons to indicate their position.

The three dashed from cover to a tall fence surrounding the PRT lock-up. Violet appeared with a fist raised, and the group paused beneath the fence. Across the compound, two patrolling guards were swapping shift, and had taken a second to talk with one another. Violet leapt over the wall, and the other two followed. They darted across the lot to the back of the main building, pausing in between some HVAC outlets. Circus summoned a rope line from nowhere, and threw it up to latch on the roof, then stood back watching the two red dots ascend. Finally, Circus summoned a teleport pad, stepped onto it, and using their power managed to bring it along for the ride back to base.

On the roof, Violet withdrew an EMP grenade, which I'd had Bakuda prepare a few days ago and checked for abnormalities. She walked over to the roof overlooking the front entrance, then pulled the pin and dropped it over the side. It activated silently, and a number of lights around the building flicked off.

An alarm activated, and the two Strangers dashed over to a door on the roof. On cue, two Hero fliers bust out and took to the skies. As the door started to close, both girls ducked inside.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Apart from dedicated anti-Stranger Tinker technology, these two wouldn't be caught if they didn't want to be.

I looked back to where the Wardogs were retreating from the neighborhood. "Graph, whose house was that?"

"Lucas Courtney, CEO of Brunswick Capital. Chairman of Brockton Chamber of Commerce."

The two Strangers didn't encounter any trouble travelling room to room in the PRT building. I had them place four or five cameras and bugs in every room they could, and when they arrived at the Director's office, I had them insert a USB stick to the desk PC.

Graph was able to infiltrate in a very low activity mode. I used the connection to the girls' suits to exfiltrate the hard drive contents, instead of the building's network.

It was as easy as walking out the front door, before the power was restored and the surveillance cameras came back on.

DAY THIRTEEN

Although tall, I was not as tall as Thomas Calvert - wherever he was - and certainly not as skinny. The snake costume hung strangely off me and pinched around the midsection, and I had to keep pushing the sleeves up around my wrists.

The bar, 'Somers Rock', was dim and dingy. The table of the corner booth I was sat at was sticky and yellowed. I swirled the frothy beer in the greasy glass before me, then sat it back on the torn beermat. I sighed and checked around my HUD. They weren't too far off.

The place was completely non-descript, and filthy, and I almost couldn't believe this was where the cape mafia of Brockton had been gathering to parley since Marquis' days. Surely there's a racetrack, or a box at the opera that they could have chosen instead of this hole.

It was empty but for me sat swirling a dirty beer, Pete and Blondie stood arms crossed near me, and the three deaf barmaids. Was that the attraction of the place, I wondered? The only three deaf people in town, and they refuse to work anywhere fancier than this? Or perhaps the bar was the peak of civilisation, back in Marquis' days, and it fell out of use because the capes don't sit down together much anymore.

I sighed again, and looked once more to my HUD. It was now three minutes past eleven, and I was the only party who arrived on time. I held out the disgusting beer glass and nudged the back of Pete's arm with it. He took it and placed it back on the bar, before the barmaids, who nodded and poured it away.

Pete and Blondie looked ridiculous in the makeshift outfits, fudged together from Coil's leftover equipment in the underground base. Pete's belly dipped beneath the body armor. I probably didn't look much better.

I was interrupted in my musings when the door to the bar burst open, and a costumed Grue, Bitch and Tattletale stepped in, followed by a large dog. They cast a wary glance around the room as if they didn't know us, and took the opposite corner booth. A barmaid shuffled over with a bit of paper.

A couple of minutes later, the mark finally showed up. Kaiser strode into the bar in a full suit of armor and hovered at the threshold, the exposed eyes peering at the people inside. He was followed in by the three capes I really didn't want to see. First was Hookwolf, his bare left torso still burned and scarred, his fists clenched as he looked from group to group. On seeing the Undersiders, he looked ready to pounce, but followed his boss to the central table. Next was Fog, the hardest to contain, partner of the monster cape slain by Blondie in Northridge. Then the sniper and skillthief Victor, who narrowed his eyes at everyone as though assessing.

Kaiser paused at one end of the table and addressed me across the room. "Coil, my friend. I heard you'd left town. I believe you have a lot of explaining to do."

The Undersiders froze and turned to watch. I stood up, and followed by Pete and Blondie took the seat at the opposite end to Kaiser. "Greetings, Kaiser. Well, yes and no - but it's OK, I have a new identity now."

At my unknown voice Kaiser's suit froze, and he too silently sat down. His backup hovered behind him, eyeing everyone present. Grue stepped over and took a seat in the middle.

We waited without speaking for a few moments, then heard a group of footsteps approaching. The welding mask identified Faultline, who was followed in by the translucent blue Gregory, bright orange Newter, and relatively normal Spitfire. Faultline came to sit down and her team took another booth. She looked from Kaiser to I, focusing on me, but said nothing.

Next, the ABB contingent. Mark was wearing one of Oni Lee's old demon masks and led three heavyset asian men into the bar. They looked to be spoiling for a fight, but broke off to take a table while Mark took the seat opposite Faultline. Kaiser was looking at him suspiciously.

A minute or so later, Uber arrived with Bennie and the armor clad Wardogs. They were all in tactical goggles and outfits, but without the grenade bandolier or rifles. Uber sat at the table, and the Wardogs hung around behind him. Kaiser was giving this bunch a look of fury and hatred he'd reserved from the other groups.

"And the Merchants?" I ventured, towards Kaiser.

He shook his helmeted head. "I declined to extend the invite."

"Probably for the best. Well, Kaiser? What did you call us out here for?" I deliberately pressed a gloved finger onto the tabletop, and showed it sticking.

Kaiser shook his head, and looked from group to group. "Who's in charge here? Who's doing this?"

Grue crossed his arms. "Can you get to the point, please, we have things to do -"

Kaiser extended an armored finger at the Undersider. "Don't you start! You!" He pointed around the room. "Well, come on!" The finger rested on me. "Another Mastermind, are you? Are you doing this?" Before I could respond, he spun on Faultline. "I suppose you're paid up, are you, Faultline?"

She shook her said and spoke. "I don't know what you're talking about, Kaiser. We're not part of whatever this is. You asked us here."

Kaiser's fury turned back to rest on me. I decided to speak up. "Alright, Kaiser, I can see you've outsmarted us. I'll give you the play-by-play. So basically, it all started with poppa Allfather - he had some pretty outdated views about - "

A metal fist slammed the table, almost cracking it in to. Around the bar, people tensed. "Don't you dare speak to me like that! I demand respect - "

I powered on through, " - about building a glorious Empire from an American city." The words stopped his rant. "Except, even when he threw money, manpower and his whole damn legacy at the problem, he just couldn't build the capstone. At every turn, he was stymied - liberals in City Hall. Poverty and uprisings on the street, because the docks closed. A Brockton Brigade, divorced from the friendly Protectorate. So what does he do? He passes the problem to his son. A wise boy, it was said - a firm believer in the cause, and charismatic to boot. Poppa Allfather probably couldn't have been happier in his heir.

"Then he goes to meet his poppa in the sky, and the heir takes over the most complex civic takeover operation on the East coast. What happened next, Kaiser?"

"That you would even dare speak of Allfather in such terms. He was the founder of a people."

"And how have you honored his legacy, Anders?" I took a breath. The other parties at the table, even Faultline, were silent as their heads spun from me to him. "You found a wife, and she performed her duty in producing a son. You placed your mark on the family business. You grew the number of capes under your command. All for what? What have you been doing? There's only so much time you could have wasted, adulterising with the twins."

He took a sharp breath and half rose, before sitting again. His deep voice echoed from the full armor suit. "This is a Truce, and we all go our separate ways after. But you should know, whoever you are, you're on my list now. For your careless words, I'll rip your tongue out myself." From his cold and calculated tone, I think this was supposed to be taken as a serious threat.

"Your list, Kaiser? Your list?" I asked incredulously. "You should realise, that you've been on the top of my list for a long time now. Coil-One might have leaked your names, not me, but I've been taking everything else from you piecemeal. Medhall, the Chambers of Commerce, your City Hall pull, the sympathetic Deputy Policy Chief - and I'm coming for the Europeans too. There's nothing left for you in this city, which is why I'm going to offer you the opportunity once."

"You think to make me an offer? You think I would grovel and bargain before you?"

"One offer, and one threat."

"Your delusion deepens. You cannot threaten the Empire, much less you could threaten the city itself. We are Brockton."

"Well, you'll have to think about that from somewhere in the flyover states, because that's the offer. I strap you up with countermeasures, and you disappear over the horizon."

"You haven't been listening, Mastermind. You cannot remove the Empire from this city."

"Maybe not in pop's day. But I think we'll be alright."

"Remember my words, Mastermind." He rose from the chair, and with his backup started walking out the bar.

"You didn't hear my threat, yet," I spoke lowly into the silence of the room. He spun on the spot. "If you don't take my offer, Kaiser, none of you are walking out of here."

Kaiser began flexing his power, and sharp edges arose all around his suit. Hookwolf rolled his neck. Fog and Victor took a step back, looking ready to pounce.

"Let's not fight just yet, boys." I held up a flat palm. "I really think you'd prefer to hear more about the offer."

Kaiser's head turned from me, to the door fifteen or so feet away. There was nobody between him and it. He looked back to me. "More careless words, Mastermind. They will be the death of you."

"Perhaps - or perhaps they'll be the death of Rune, Night, Krieg, Alabaster, Fenja and Menja. Perhaps the black widows on Victor's leg will be the death of him." Victor looked down startled, then froze. A line of spiders reached his neck and readied. "Perhaps they'll be the death of Hookwolf and Fog." As I mentioned their names, the two capes fell to the floor twitching, courtesy of Stranger One and Stranger Two.

"You broke the Truce!" Kaiser bellowed. "Now you shall be Forsaken - " he thrust his arm out, and prompt vanished into thin air.

"Niiiiiice," I let out. Victor was still frozen, eyes wide. "Can somebody taze - " Victor fell to the floor.

I tore the cloying Coil head covering off and took a deep breath. Everyone else around the table was unmasing - apart from Faultline who looked to me confused. "I don't know what's happening here, but it's taken two hours of my time so far. If I'm just here to uphold some theater, I think we should be compensated."

I shrugged. "Two hundred K do it?"

She nodded.

"Alright," I looked around the rest of the crowded bar. "Nice work everyone! Wow, I feel like we should actually have a drink, now."