AN: Decided to try my hand at a short interlude. Not really sure how exactly it turned out, but at this point I just want to get out something since it's been a while. The next proper chapter is mostly written up, I just want to spend a day or two going over it.

"Does anyone have anything on him?!" the aged parahuman spat out at the dozen or so people gathered around him. "Or do we still have bupkis?" A chorus of negative responses, both internal and external, answered him.

Ari Shuster, or Gabbai to the PRT, was not having a good day. First thing in the morning he had to deal with reports of those Adept bastards sticking their noses where they had no business being. Even if the perpetrators were apparently newer members that didn't yet know better, the sheer chutzpah on display was enough to necessitate taking action.

But before he could even deal with that, there was the issue of a new trigger wanting to make contact. Pushing off an appointment was taboo for him unless absolutely necessary, so he had to be rushed off to see the boy while still mulling over the Adepts issue.

If that was the end of it, everything would have been fine. But then the kid, this "Eliezer Meth," turned out to be a blind spot to his own power. Not unheard of, but a major headache. Where normally he could fully vet any parahuman with only a touch, now he had to put in the legwork to manually gather information. Of course, that meant there was no reason to send him in as opposed to any other member. But hindsight was 20/20, they couldn't have known that until contact was made. Everything was still fine.

Then he got back to base and discovered that there was no information to discover. Shuster had thought the kid too trusting for freely offering his name and face, but after hours of searching turned up nothing it became clear that Eli had no reason to hide.

First he tried looking for the given name. They had found a few matches, but none that could be the kid. Not too hard to believe, since the Hebrew name was used mainly for religious purposes. But then attempts to find anything about potential legal names, using common equivalents to Eliezer, like Elliot or Eli, were equally fruitless.

Of course, the possibility that it was a completely false name didn't escape him or his team. Shifting gears towards searching for potential trigger events in the past week among the Jewish community didn't help, though with Tinkers, who tended to have drawn out triggers rather than a single bad day, that methodology was more of a formality than anything. Looking for missing person's reports and unexplained prolonged absences in local colleges was also a dead end, though.

There was also a chance that the kid wasn't a natural trigger, a possibility his colleagues weren't aware of, but he wouldn't even mention it. Even if spreading that information around wouldn't get him into serious trouble, it was hard to believe anyone who could purchase powers would need the support of his organization. And he didn't look like a 53, either.

If there was anything, Shuster could have found it in his heart to trust Meth. But it was simply too suspicious, to see someone come out of thin air. The easiest explanation would just be that the kid had some heavy-duty Stranger power scrubbing his past, but convenient answers were for other people.

Still, there didn't seem to be any good routes towards finding the truth. And a lack of information, on its own, didn't mean the boy had ill intent. But trusting a blindspot to his powers was still hard for Shuster. Like most Thinkers, he wasn't very good at coping when his powers ran up against a brick wall.

"Now what would you do to determine the trustworthiness of a cape without being able to perform a background check?"

The question he thought about was addressed to the legion of voices within him. That was his power, a simultaneously overwhelming and useless one. Every parahuman he touched, blindspots notwithstanding, was copied into his head. It was similar to what went on with the Butcher, from what he could tell, but much more controlled. A snapshot of the existence of a cape that he could ask any questions he wanted. The fact he could gather general info on capes with a touch was all he made public, the specifics were kept close to his chest.

It was a great power for negotiations and running a gang. There was no such thing as secrets and treachery once Ari Shuster got his hands on you. When talking to a parahuman, all he needed was a touch to instantly determine how they'd respond to any question or statement. From there it was child's play to steer the discussion any way he wished.

Unfortunately he'd need to touch someone again to update the mental snapshot to current events, so the modelling of behavior and future actions was limited to only shortly after contact before getting imprecise, and eventually useless, but the information he could uncover was worth its weight in gold. All it took was one handshake with a Protectorate member and suddenly he knew all sorts of identities and confidential secrets. Similarly, some contact with a member of a villainous gang gave him incredible leverage.

Not that he'd actually use any of it, though. Once you started playing with identities and blackmail people took the kid's gloves off. Just the knowledge that undzer shtick had access to sensitive information and wasn't afraid to share it if people didn't play nice was a wonderful deterrent. They weren't vying for territory or aiming for profit, after all, just trying to keep the community safe from outside interference.

If a group actually decided to mess with them, they deserved what they got.

Regardless, the other benefit of his power was the glut of perspectives he could get on any given question. Ari Shuster was a one-man think tank. So now it was time to figure out how to test Meth's mettle.

The more brutal capes within suggested tests of self-mutilation and other grotesque signs of devotion. There were a lot of brutal capes. He filtered them out of the Think Tank for now and asked the question again. Now more practical ideas were presented. He grimaced at all the voices suggesting hiring a human Master to force trustworthiness. That wasn't how they did things! Time to rephrase the question.

"Now what would you do to determine the trustworthiness of a cape without being able to perform a background check, and without breaking ethical standards as defined by previously described Moral List A?"

Increasing the specificity of the question would yield better responses. Now he got ideas he wouldn't feel evil for implementing. He started to sort through them, putting them into categories for easier comparison. After choosing his favorite solutions, further questions were asked to hammer out specifics.

Eventually, the old man came to a conclusion. See how Meth would respond when asked to fight for him. A moral determination of trustworthiness couldn't be done so easily, but presenting little tests would slowly help to build up a better picture. It didn't matter if he agreed or refused, the way the tinker responded mattered more than the response itself.

Too much eagerness to fight would show that they were a typical new trigger, dying for a chance to put their powers to the test. Too much fear and weak excuses would show a lack of interest in working together. A measured response about not having built up enough tinkertech would show the sort of caution and realistic self-image that was so valuable to a cape. And the list of possible responses and what could be read from them went on and on.

The Adepts needed a reminder of their place anyways, wrapping up Mr. Meth in that business would kill two birds with one stone. Speaking of which, it would probably be a good time to start planning that.

"Ploni, get your tuchus over here!" Shuster called out. "Ploni? Oy vey iz mir, somebody get them! And fetch me an aspirin while you're at it, my head is killing me!" After a few seconds of exchanging glances, someone finally got up and left. It wasn't even a drawback of his power, the migraines were just another part of old age for him. A younger man with his ability could be a force to reckon with in a cape fight, easily outmaneuvering all opponents, but Ari was simply unable to serve on the frontlines. The closest he got to combat was being surrounded by allies and tapping every defeated enemy on the shoulder for information.

It wasn't a helpful line of thinking, since he did far more for the group than any dime a dozen Alexandria package would, but knowing that didn't make it easier to stop pursuing it. Maybe it was just because his age was so painfully obvious to him, or maybe it was simply that drive towards fighting that most capes had to some degree, but he really did wish for the ability to help his men more directly. Anytime something bad befell a member while Shuster was safe and sound in his office, the man's heart felt like it received a permanent scar.

The spiral of "if only" and "what if" thoughts was interrupted by the messenger returning with an aspirin container and Ploni in tow. As usual, the cape's body was in a constant flux as it shifted to represent the "average" around them. "Sorry I'm late, sir," they apologized in an androgynous voice, before holding out their left hand. Shuster tapped it.

"What information would you like to communicate with me? What information are you hiding from me that could reasonably cause harm to myself and/or my interests?"

Two standard questions he asked immediately upon renewed contact with any parahuman colleagues. The first quickly brought him up to speed, and the second easily rooted out treachery and deceit. It was invasive, of course, but he made sure to use wording that wouldn't show mundane and inconsequential private secrets. Internal security was one of Shuster's jobs, but that didn't mean he had to resort to total thought policing. When it came to Ploni, though, it was just a formality. They trusted each other, after all.

The received answers contained nothing unexpected. "You've been informed about the Adepts," the elderly man stated. "We're moving against them tonight. The main objective is getting me in contact with a 2nd or 3rd tier member, so I can update my info on them. Leaking any of their plans to the PRT should make for a fine warning without rocking the boat too much. Gather the normal team. We might have someone else involved on our side, but it isn't set in stone and shouldn't greatly impact how we proceed."

"Understood," they replied, once again holding out their hand. A quick tap let Shuster ask exactly how they understood his words. Miscommunications were always a risk, so it was just easier to confirm everyone was on the same page.

"Alright, you've got it. Now enough putzing around, get to it!" he exclaimed. Ploni hurried away without another word.

He glanced around the room. "Everyone quiet down, I'm going to make a call," the elderly individual ordered, before dialing the number of the burner phone he had given to Mr. Meth.

And then it failed to get picked up, despite being left to ring for nearly a minute. Tapping a finger on the desk impatiently, he tried once more.

Still nothing.

Damn kid was too busy to answer, apparently! Shuster would give him the benefit of the doubt and assume Eli was in the middle of a Tinker fugue, but it still was irritating. He really hoped that the burner hadn't been dismantled for spare parts. Surrendering for now, the man sent off a quick few texts requesting a call back ASAP.

Well, might as well go and grab himself a coffee in the meantime. "Keep looking into him, I'll be back shortly," he directed simply as he strode out of the room.

All the while, he continued sending query after query towards his Think Tank.