Signal to Noise

03

As I stepped out of PRTHQ into the setting sun of a Brockton Bay winter and breathed my first free breath in three days, I felt at something of a loss. 'Now what?'

"Need a lift?" Carol asked from behind me, and I shrugged.

"I won't say no to one, if you're offering. I need to get back to the children's home and get cleaned up and changed, and I don't think walking around in an orange prison jumpsuit is a good idea," I said, looking down at the monstrosity covering my body in distaste. The legs and arms were both too long and had been rolled up more than once, and the body was loose around the shoulders and thighs, but tight at the hips. The material was rough and itched all over, and all of my undergarments had been taken so it was rubbing entirely too sensitive places raw. The slippers on my feet were thin, too big, and did nothing against the cold. Walking around like this would drive me to distraction.

Carol, bless her soul, motioned for me to follow her to a blue, four door sedan. "Sorry about the smell," I sighed, cracking my window. I'd rather suffer the cold than subject the woman offering me a ride to body odor funk. They hadn't even given me asswipe, so I'd had to make do and the quick hosing down with scalding soapy water before they forced me into the jumpsuit hadn't gotten all the nooks and crannies.

"Not your fault," she waved it off.

Claire's memories supplied directions to the children's home, and we spent the drive going over details for my emancipation paperwork. There wouldn't be a PRT case. They had surrendered, opting for out of court settlement as Carol had said they would. The money would be ready next week, and I would need a bank account by then since Claire hadn't gotten one before I'd showed up.

Of course, things wouldn't work themselves out quite that neatly.

I was buzzed through into the children's home's lobby, only to be told by Rob the security guard—Claire only bothered to memorize his name because it helped her get in and out after curfew if she made nice with the people manning the doors—that I had been evicted. Good news? They'd boxed my things and I could take them with me. Bad news? I had nowhere to take them to.

Sticking my head back out the door, I found Carol leaning against her car. "Problem?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I frowned. "Why does it look like you expected one?"

The blonde sighed. "When the PRT plays hardball to get a cape, they tend to attack everything they can. Suspended bank accounts, termination of employment or expulsion from school, sudden eviction from any kind of rent-based housing or foreclosure on mortgages, overturned custody decisions, sudden collections on loans, and so on. They're especially hard on minors. They don't want you to have anywhere to turn to but them. So, even though you've won your freedom, the Wards program will start looking pretty nice with no alternatives."

My eyes narrowed in irritation. "Well. Fuck them, then. I can camp in a hotel."

I turned back inside to get my things while Carol pulled out her phone. I had enough cash saved up and squirreled away that I could afford a cheap motel for a few days, maybe a week, and I was not too proud to beg Carol for a loan until the PRT's money came in if need be. …Not after having my pride crushed underfoot repeatedly, being stuck in a body that wasn't my own and wasn't even the same gender. Nope. I was at the end of my rope here. Something was going to give, and soon.

Taking the two cardboard boxes that held all of Claire's worldly possessions from Rob, I made my way outside and put them in the trunk before sliding back into the front passenger seat. Carol closed up her phone a moment later, got back in, and started the car.

Blessed warm air from the heater washed over my cold feet and I asked, "So, know any good hotels around? And by 'good' I mean 'cheap.' Because I'm broke until the PRT gets their shit together and pays me my money."

"Sure," Carol agreed, pulling out of the space in front of the children's home.

I let my eyes slide closed. "I'm just going to take a little nap. Wake me up when we get there."

Carol made a soft noise of agreement and turned the radio on to something playing classic rock. I barely noticed my head tapping the window beside me before I passed out…

...Only to be rudely awoken a few seconds later by the car pulling to a stop and the heat keeping my feet from freezing shutting off. Opening bleary eyes, I looked around and frowned. "Where are we?" I asked, taking in the inside of a garage.

"My home. Come on," Carol answered, exiting the car.

Yawning, I almost hung myself on the seatbelt before I remembered to take it off, then opened the door and stumbled out. I followed in a daze as Carol popped the trunk, opened my boxes, picked one up, and headed inside. She lead me into the home and down a hallway. "My husband's at work and Vicky and Amy are in school. You've got about forty-five minutes, so why don't you take a shower and change out of that monstrosity and we can talk about where to go from here?"

Allowing myself to be herded into a bathroom, I began stripping out of the jumpsuit. Carol closed the door behind me after dropping my box of what looked to be clothes on the floor in front of the sink. I turned on the water and waited for it to warm up. While I did, I tossed the jumpsuit in the trash bin and searched the medicine cabinet and then the drawers for an unopened toothbrush. With that taken care of, I stepped into the shower and started scrubbing. Shivers ran up my body and I turned the heat up.

Once I was clean, I took a moment to feel out the damage the little Asian punk had done. 'Huh. Guess when my powers kicked in it healed everything, not just my knee. 'Lucky' me, seeing as that disappeared the evidence. Ugh. Well, beats being sore.'

Too bad it didn't erase the memory of someone else's hands somewhere they shouldn't be.

"God I'm tired," I sighed, turning the heat up again and dropping down to sit on the floor of the tub. I closed my eyes and let the water run. "Hope Carol doesn't mind me running out her hot water."

"Not much change. Mild hypothermia, dehydration, she hasn't eaten in at least eighty hours, low blood sugar—that one's pretty self-explanatory…"

Someone was in my room and I didn't recognize the voice. Under normal circumstances, I'd have reached for the pistol on my night stand. At the moment? If they were going to rob me or something, then as long as they did it quietly I didn't give two shits.

"Can you fix it?"

Recognized that voice, but I was drawing a blank. Jesus, were they trying to wake me up? Couldn't they see I was trying to sleep here?

"Get some food and water in her, put her to bed, and turn up the heater a bit and she'll be fine." The first voice paused. "She's also awake, mostly. Trying to go back to sleep."

I groaned and tried to pull the pillow over my head.

"Claire?"

"Fuggoff," I hissed, rolling over onto my stomach.

"Language," that familiar voice chastised.

"Sleepy," I argued.

An annoyed sigh sounded from somewhere above me before the pillow was yanked out of my grasp. I cracked one eye open enough to glare at the woman, earning a curious look and a raised eyebrow from the brunette teenager beside her. "I promised you steak. If you want it, get up and come to the table. If you don't, my brother-in-law is going to eat it." Carol turned to leave but stopped long enough to address her adoptive daughter. "Amy, can you get her dressed and downstairs or should I ask Vicky?"

Amy tensed. "I can do it, mom."

"No lip, thank you," Carol chastised before disappearing.

My eyes slid closed again and I heard Amy step closer. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Frowning, I asked, "Which is which?"

"Easy way: you get out of bed under your own power," Amy supplied. I shook my head. "Hard way: I hit you with a shot of adrenaline."

I considered that for a moment before countering, "You don't do brains."

Amy snorted. "Yeah, you're definitely from Winslow. Adrenal glands are located above the kidneys and even if they weren't, I could just synthesize it directly in your bloodstream."

"That's an unfair judgment, I'm not nearly awake enough for a biology pop quiz." Yawning, I continued with, "Besides. I don't give consent for you to 'heal' me."

The brunette chuckled. "I don't need it. Carol got an emergency court order giving her and aunt Sarah temporary custody over you."

"That's nice," I muttered tiredly. Two second later, the words actually registered and my eyes shot open and I sat up, pinning her with a glare. "Repeat that."

Crossing her arms, Amy rolled her eyes. "You hired her. Why are you so surprised that mom bulled her way through the court system? She's been doing this for years and she's got more than one friend who happens to be a judge."

Bringing a hand up, I rubbed at the headache developing behind my forehead. "Fine. Okay. She said food. Where are my clothes?"

"Beside the bed," Amy answered as I made to get out of bed and nearly tripped. I was somewhat annoyed when I found out she was taller than Claire's body.

"I'm naked. Why am I naked?" I grumbled, shaking loose from Amy and digging through my cardboard box in search of something to wear.

Amy sighed. "You fell asleep in the shower and by the time Vicky found you when we got home, you were an icicle. We didn't exactly bother putting on clothes before I checked you out the first time, then we let you rest for a while. And it's nothing we haven't seen before. House full of women, you know."

I looked over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow as I began pulling on the clothes I'd picked out. "Says the girl checking me out."

"Purely professional concern as a medic," she swiftly countered, as a mild dusting of red on her cheeks made her freckles stand out more.

"Uh huh," I turned away, pulling on a shirt. "I'm older than you."

"By like a few months, last I checked. Which was all of a few minutes ago, and why am I even arguing this and how does that even matter?" Amy wondered, groaning quietly. "God, it's worse than dealing with Vicky."

Too-tight pants joined the painted on shirt. "Because you secretly enjoy having someone to argue with. Also, seriously, could you not stare at my ass? I am a dirty old man stuck in a girl's body and you're making me feel weird."

"I do not! And I was not!" Amy protested. "I don't like girls."

"That'll disappoint the shippers," I snarked

"Don't get me started on them," she groaned. "Everything's always sex, sex, sex! Why is the internet so obsessed with it?"

Shooting her an amused look, I answered, "Because the three greatest driving forces for humanity are eating, sleeping, and fucking." Socks went on next, followed by… I blinked. "Oh, those cockbites. They took my goddamn boots!"

Frowning, the brunette asked, "What size are you?"

I shrugged before holding up a foot. "'Bout that size."

"Ugh," she muttered, turning on a heel and walking away. Pausing at the door, Amy asked, "Well? Coming?"

"Not yet," I muttered. Reigning in the tendency to further run my mouth when I was bored, irritated, or pretty much whenever the notion took, I followed her down the hallway to a bedroom at the end.

"Try this on," Amy offered, passing me a pair of sneakers.

Pulling them on, I found them a bit loose in the toes but serviceable. "It'll work until I get replacements. Thanks Amelia."

Amy blinked once, a curious look crossing her face. "It's just Amy."

"'Amelia' sounds more mature," I suggested.

"Hm," Amy hummed, standing up and nodding for me to follow. "I like Amy better."

"Sure thing, Panpan."

"…I will hurt you."

"Oh, so you took the hypocritical oath, then."

"Bite me."

I laughed and Amy fought to keep a smile off her face. Amy led me downstairs and into a kitchen, where the smell of cooked red meat, bread, and other things hung heavy in the air. My mouth watered, but I was momentarily distracted by the stares coming from the others there—every one of them, save for Amy, sharing a nearly identical nimbus of power in my sight that hinted at light, lasers, flight, and so on. Amy's nimbus, on the other hand, spoke of flesh, blood, and Tinkering. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Eyes," a boy about my—Claire's—age spoke up. Light brown hair, blue eyes—probably Shielder, unless I missed my guess. Well, whatever his civilian name was.

I patted down my face. "Nope, not spontaneously sprouting eyeballs."

A long-haired blonde girl sighed, palming her face. "Sorry, my cousin is an idiot. Those aren't contacts, right?"

"No," I shook my head, casting a glance at Carol, who gestured to an empty seat next to a slightly older looking girl—most likely Laserdream. Dropping into the chair, I added, "I'm occupying the same boat as you on the whole 'secret identity' thing, just not by choice. Kind of hard to keep one when you get powers in the middle of a hallway in front of other people and suddenly get glowy eyes."

"So, what can you do?" the girl beside me asked.

The hotter of the two elder sisters, Sarah Pelham—nicknamed 'Photon MILF' for a goddamn good reason—cleared her throat. "Crystal. Where are your manners?"

The girl beside me smiled and held out a hand. "Crystal Pelham. Laserdream, in costume. And you are…?"

"Claire," I answered, an amused look crossing my lips as I shook the offered hand.

Crystal nodded. "Nice to meet you. Sooo… what are your powers?"

I heard a groan from Mrs. Pelham, while the very large man beside her—who I assumed was her husband—chuckled. Deciding to get it out of the way, I dug through Claire's memories for the classifications and ratings and answered, "Muscle Brute… one-ish. Barely a Brute at all. Trump One I think, probably rated about a two. Free Tinker, rating… Hero."

"Clockblocker isn't here, so in his place allow me to just say," Victoria spoke up, grinning, "Bullshit."

"Yeah, going to have to agree with her there. You never get Tinker/Brute. It just doesn't happen. Tinker/Trump, maybe, but not Tinker/Brute," the boy spoke up. "Oh, and it's Eric, by the way. I'm Crystal's brother. That," he gestured at Victoria, "is our cousin Vicky, and you've already met Amy."

I put my hand on the table. "Wanna arm wrestle?"

Eric traded looks with everyone around the table, earning a few shrugs from his parents and uncle, and absolutely nothing from his aunt. Finally, Vicky clucked like a chicken and he rolled his eyes. "Fine," he sighed, shifting around and taking my arm. "On three?" I nodded. "One, two, three!"

He immediately tried to slam my arm down, but I locked it in place. "What do you weigh? Buck thirty?"

"One twenty-five," he corrected, frowning.

"Go ahead. Put your weight into it," I suggested. He did, but I remained unmoved. Eventually, I got tired of holding hands and slowly tapped him out. "Still want to call bullshit?"

Vicky immediately jumped up. "Me next!"

I considered her for a moment before nodding. "Sure," I smiled as Eric got up and traded seats with his cousin. My hand wrapped around hers and Vicky smirked.

"One," Eric called.

"So, what do I get if I win?" I asked.

"Two," Eric continued.

"What do I get when I win?" Vicky countered, a cocky grin pulling her lips up.

"Thr—"

I kicked the shit out of Vicky's shin. Her shield flared briefly before popping. Before it could recover, I slammed her arm down.

"—ee, holy shit!" Eric yelped.

I let go and winced. "Oh, I am going to feel that in the morning," I muttered. "Worth it though."

"How…?" Vicky asked, incredulous. "Nun uh! No way! Rematch!"

"I retire, undefeated 2011 Dallon-Pelham-Carnelian arm-wrestling champ," I declared.

"Ahem," Carol cleared her throat, drawing my attention. "How did you know?"

I shrugged. "Every power has a weakness. Either her shield was something she had to turn on, in which case it'd distract her from using her strength—as she obviously intended; or it was automatic and had some sort of maximum damage threshold—which turned out to actually be the case. Didn't expect it to be lower than small-arms fire, but that may be subconscious on her part—a difference between having it powered up for combat and having it just on in normal life. After that, well, it was a flip of the coin. Either it'd work, and I'd win, or it wouldn't and I'd bruise my foot. End result: a little of both."

"Really?" Carol asked quietly.

"Well, either that, or that Trump power lets me see what someone's power is and what it can do, and pretty much means I'm a walking violation of the unwritten rules. So your options are Trump bullshit or 'super Thinker' because being able to think for yourself is apparently becoming more and more a Thinker power unto itself."

"Language," Carol chastised, then pointed to the counter. "Plates are on the counter, food is on the stove."

I stood up and went to fix a plate, finding steak, potatoes, freshly baked bread, and some sort of vegetable medley. "You're just going to let that go?" Vicky hissed quietly behind me.

"Yes," Sarah answered at a normal volume. "If she's not joking—"

"I joke all the time. I also bluff, lie, and bullshit. But today? For you?" I nodded to Carol before turning back to fixing my plate. "Absolute truth. You saved my ass, so I owe you that much."

Finished loading my plate, I sat back down and dug in, apparently signaling the others to do so as well. Carol took a moment to cut her steak as she said, "If it were me, I wouldn't disclose that sort of power to the PRT. Or anyone, really. It's pretty much either a death sentence or a forced recruitment waiting to happen. So, I suggest you all keep quiet about it."

"Yeah, but what about—" Vicky started to protest.

Swallowing my mouthful of bloody steak, I cut her off. "I'm not above bribing people for things I want with Tinkertech. In this case, I want to buy your silence about it. Please?" A sudden feeling of dread swept over me and my fist clenched around my fork.

"Mom, how can you just let someone with that sort of power walk around in public?" Vicky asked, sending me a glare and causing the feeling of dread to increase. I was pretty sure I'd just bent the fork. "She could reveal the identity of everyone in the Protectorate. The Wards!"

"Vicky," Amy muttered quietly, but I barely caught it.

Carol I did catch, however. "Her identity is already compromised. If she doesn't join a team—or at least closely tie herself to one—it's very likely someone will be after her just for being a Tinker as it is. As I said, telling people about this is a death sentence."

"If it's so bad, we can't keep her here!" Victoria continued, and once more her aura ratcheted upwards.

I distantly realized I was grinding my teeth. 'Just a Master effect. Not my emotions. Ignore it. I should put down the fork before I try to put it through her eye.'

"Victoria, that's enough," Carol hissed, and for a moment the aura cut off as a look of shock crossed the girl's face. Apparently, she'd never been told 'no' before, or otherwise disciplined—at least, not with that tone. "Claire is my client and a guest in our home, until the issue with the PRT is resolved—at most, a week I believe. She has more than paid for her stay or any other favor she wants, because she's agreed to give me—not my firm, me, personally—half of whatever is left after the firm takes its cut of the payoff. And to give you some idea, Claire is paying for your college tuition Vicky. And Amy's. And your cousins'. So please, stop antagonizing."

"You—" Vicky looked between Carol and me. "You bribed my mom?!"

My heartrate skyrocketed and I felt my breath start coming in short gasps. Doing my best not to piss myself, I stood on wobbly legs and walked away, ignoring the sounds of an argument erupting behind me. I hit the front door and nearly broke the knob trying to get it open before finally realizing it was locked. Then, I was outside and running.

I didn't bother looking back.

Sitting on a park bench a few blocks away, I stuffed my hands under my armpits and allowed my heart and breathing to slow down. Thankfully, I was out of whatever range Victoria had, so I could at least think clearly now. 'Jesus, she's lucky I don't have access to anything destructive yet.'

The Tinker curse flared up at the thought and I groaned. "God, what I wouldn't give for a fucking cell phone right now." Even just that would be enough to start building up with Wavelength. I wouldn't even have to disassemble it—just an hour or so worth of alone time with one to do some programming would get me started on my build order.

'But no. I showed off and then ran my mouth to cover it. My own damn fault.'

And now, I was lost and alone in an unfamiliar city even if Claire's memories were at least some help there, visible to anyone who looked as a cape, with few resources and exposed to the elements. 'And still fucking starving. No sense moping about it, though.'

"Okay. Good news, I'm not in con-foam or a cell, so there's that at least. Bad news, I've got twenty bucks in my wallet and Carol's got the rest of my money hidden in my things." Twenty bucks might get me a cab ride in the direction of a homeless shelter or something. If I could find somewhere to bed down for the night, I could find a public library tomorrow and maybe get into contact with Armsmaster or Dragon. I owed Armsmaster twenty hours worth of collaboration time, but I'd be willing to bet money to holes in donuts that he and/or Dragon both would be willing to buy Tinkering time with cash money.

'All else fails? I'm white and a Tinker. Walk around looking for E88 tags or white guys with suspiciously shaved heads. Good money says Kaiser will pay top dollar to have a Tinker in his pocket. Just… don't mention the whole 'actually a guy stuck in a girl's body' thing. Beyond that, wouldn't be so bad probably. Better than working for Mr. 'Torture you in endless simulations' Coil. Getting snapped up and doped to the gills by the Merchants. Or getting thrown into an ABB brothel and whored out to anyone who wants to pay money to fuck the tiny white girl.'

Actually, now that I thought about it, the PRT had fucked me once. I owed Collin, not them, Tinker time. I could always arrange to meet on some sort of neutral ground for that and specify that anything we worked on not be for PRT/Protectorate use.

'Right then. Legitimate channels first. Criminal channels second.'

My mind made up on a course of action, I stood up and turned back towards the entrance to the park, intending to go track down a payphone or, failing that, knock on doors until someone answered and let me call a cab. Just as I was nearing the exit, the light from the street lamps was washed out by a purple glow coming from behind me, casting my shadow out in front of me. "Claire?"

I stopped, slowly turning around to find Sarah hovering a few yards behind me—the source of the glow. "Look, I'm sorry I caused you guys trouble. I'll catch a cab and spend the night in a shelter or something. We've still got legal crap at the PRT building tomorrow, so I can get my stuff from Carol then, and I can see about trading Armsmaster and Dragon Tinkering for cash until those jackasses pay me. And if Piggot says no, well, I've still got options."

"What?" Sarah asked, moving closer and touching down in front of me as the glow faded. Suddenly feeling the wind on her skin, she put up a faintly glowing force field around us both, providing an impromptu shelter. "No. Hell no. Claire, I'm sorry. Vicky was out of line." A faint smile touched her lips as she said, "I think that's the first time Carol's ever been truly angry at her."

"She wasn't wrong," I admitted. "I only left because of that damn aura of hers."

The blonde across from me nodded. "We kind of figured. It takes some getting used to, especially when she's… well, throwing a tantrum. She's just scared. Her boyfriend is a Ward, so…" I nodded. Not that I hadn't already known about Gallant. "How about you come home with me, just for the night? A shelter or a hotel isn't really… safe for you, you know?"

I hadn't considered that, but now that she pointed it out, it seemed obvious. Shelters meant homeless. Homeless meant high likelihood of Merchants. Hotels meant dealing with people. People who might work for Coil, or Shitstain, or Lung, or Kaiser—not that I was really worried about that last one, for reasons I'd already come to terms with, but I would at least like it to happen on my terms if at all.

'Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Who the fuck is Ryuu?' I wondered, before the memory surfaced. Lung was not just Lung. Lung had a sister. A sister who also became a giant rage dragon. 'Oh for fuck sake. This world is bullshit. What next, blue bitch is up and going too?'

With that in mind, I asked, "You're sure?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Yes. Come on, like you said, you can get your stuff from my sister tomorrow." She started walking towards the park exit and pulled out her phone, the force field following us as she moved. "Hey, Neil. Found her, call off the search. We're waiting at the park up the street."

Hanging up, she turned back and asked, "So, since Vicky kind of screwed us on dinner… how's pizza sound?"

"Wonderful."

We spent a few minutes in quiet conversation, Sarah asking questions about what my plans were, once I got paid. I had pretty much decided against going back to school. Dealing with teenagers on a daily basis would shortly lead me to commit murder—again—and I'd rather save myself the trouble.

"What Carol said about you needing a team was true. At least until you get to a point where you can stand on your own, you should consider joining someone. I know it may seem like a family thing, but it's really not just that. There's a place on New Wave for you, if you're interested. Or, if not, we'd be happy to work with you. I'm not trying to pressure you into joining us, just… the option is there if you want," Sarah offered. "If not, well, Toybox is always looking for new Tinkers if you'd rather not do the whole 'hero' thing."

"What if I wanted to be a villain?" I asked, just to be contrary. Sarah raised an eyebrow before pointing a finger at me. A purple bolt of light jumped out, hitting me in the shoulder. "Ow."

"Feel that?" she asked, and I shot her an unamused look. "That's pain. Get used to it. Make friends with it. Because, while there's always the threat that a villain will kill you or occasionally do worse—Bonesaw, for instance—the heroes are almost guaranteed to use a bit more force than absolutely necessary to stop the villains. Some people treat it like a full contact game of tag, but it's really not. Even Wards, even Vista, will beat the absolute shit out of a 'villain' if there's even a chance they're going to resist arrest with force. Sure, there are PRT/Wards/Protectorate mandated 'minimum use of force' regulations, but in the field? No one—except perhaps Armsmaster—actually takes those into consideration. 'Necessary force' is whatever I decide it is in the heat of the moment."

Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "Look, I say this as a hero myself, because occasionally I catch myself going a little overboard at times—and when my kids are involved, I won't pull punches. Vicky is the queen of going overboard, and more often than not her sister has to step in and fix whoever she broke because she got a little too enthusiastic. Please, don't go that route."

I chuckled quietly. "Don't worry, I don't plan to. I'd much rather make money hand over fist and occasionally put my foot in an acceptable ass."

Sarah covered a laugh with a cough. "Carol was right. Language, young lady."

"You're not my mom. Or my lawyer."

"Actually, until my sister finishes the paperwork, I'm one of your legal guardians. So, yeah, for the foreseeable future? I am your mom. Now, behave, or I'll take you over my knee," she threatened, a smile playing over her face.

I sent her an amused look. "What is it with you and your sister wanting to spank my ass? It's kind of awkwardly arousing. I mean, I'm okay with a little experimentation and I won't say no, but what would your husband think about you hooking up with a teenager?"

"God, shut up," she laughed as headlights played over us and a car pulled up. "Worse than Ethan."

Cracking open the tall, brown bottle, I tilted it back and downed half its contents in a single pull. 'Ugh. Tastes like piss.' I'd never liked beer on my Earth and Claire didn't have the taste buds for it, but it was the principle of the thing. 'And there I go, breaking my promise. Well, no drunk!Claire, ever. That's not happening. Drunk!John was bad enough.'

I set the bottle on the table beside my massive slice of pizza and dared one of the Pelhams to say something. Neil chuckled once, earning an elbow and an eye-roll from his wife. "Contributing to the delinquency of a minor."

"I'm not contributing," Neil denied, taking a pull off his own beer. "I'm… observing her in a safe environment."

"Dad, I don't think anyone's going to buy that line of bull. Least of all aunt Carol," Crystal shook her head.

Frowning, Eric asked, "How come she gets one and it's no big deal, but if I happen to look at them funny, it's all, 'No, Eric. You're not allowed to drink until you're of legal age.' So not fair."

Sarah opened her mouth, but I beat her to the punch. "You can drink when your balls finish dropping."

"Ouch. I felt that burn from here," Crystal winced. "Might want to call Amy."

"You see, now he only has two options. Either he can choose to bow out and accept defeat, or he can protest that his balls have dropped—which devolves into a literal dick measuring contest. Against a girl," I pointed out, before stuffing my face with pizza.

Eric emulated a fish for a moment, opening and closing his mouth. "Hang on. No, I think I can… Damn. Nope. I'm not walking into that one."

"Oh, here," Sarah said, hopping up from the table to get a plastic bag sitting on their living room couch. She passed it to me before retaking her seat. "Carol got you this while you were napping in her car. Top of the line. One of the new touchscreen model phones they're moving to now."

I looked at the object in question and felt the itch return. "Thanks. I'm pretty sure your microwave wouldn't have survived the night unmolested otherwise. I've got a few ideas for some things already…" I trailed off, eyes darting between my pizza-and-beer and the phone.

"And there she goes," Neil joked. "We've lost her."

"Not yet," I sighed, putting the phone down and renewing my attack on the pizza and alcohol. Once I was finished, I rinsed my plate off in the sink and took the phone. "Okay, now you've lost me. Goodnight. And thanks again for letting me stay."

"It's fine," Neil waved me off.

A quick wave of 'night'/'goodnight' preceded my retreating to the guest room I'd been given for the next night or two, maybe three… maybe a week, depending on how much the PRT decided to drag their feet and how long I could go without wearing out my welcome. I had to admit, the Pelham home felt far more welcoming than the Dallons—though, that could have been because Carol was uptight and kind of bitchy, Mark was… quiet and uninvolved, Amy was frustrated and high strung, and Victoria was, well, Vicky.

I wanted to punch her in her pretty nose.

Settling down on the bed, I kicked off my borrowed sneakers, got undressed, and slid under the covers before unboxing the phone and going through setup. Once that was finished, I opened up a text editor and started coding what I would need for my first tools.

First on the list? A battery/capacitor/alternate power source—essentially, I would be using a waveform to siphon energy from EM waves and cycle and store the energy it collected indefinitely, holding it for use by other waveforms. It would, if I was close enough, even be able to draw power from standard electrical connections—wall sockets, appliances, lines in the walls, power lines overhead… The range was short at the moment at about a yard, but would expand the more energy it collected, unless I specifically limited it—or unless I built in a maximum range limit because I didn't want to accidentally black out Earth-Beta. So set a range limit I did, to a hundred yard radius.

Next, I needed a GUI and a control system—some way to visually interface with my tech and operate it. A hard-light interface would be doable, but I didn't have the juice to power it yet. With that in mind, I coded for a much smaller, lower-powered barely-there visible haptic feedback interface—in other words, a hologram that would feel about as solid as a light breeze and would be mostly see-through until it charged enough. I didn't care, so long as I could clearly read it and input commands. Storage, processing, and other computing functions would be achieved by the same means, capturing, storing, cycling, entangling, and encoding photons—

'Wait. Photons? Won't that be highly visible?' I wondered. A bit of thought on the subject though gave me the answer—light was only visible because it made it to the eyes. The semi-solid particles/waveforms that made up photons captured and held in place would be just as visible as light through a steel box—not at all, because it wouldn't be throwing any waste energy off.

I blinked as the last part of that caught up. 'And did I just accidentally a quantum computer? Sweet.'

Third, I would need to make it compatible with Earth-Beta computer systems…

"Claire?"

I groaned and cracked open an eye, looking at the door and the hot blonde framed therein. "Wat."

"Carol is here. You should get up so you can get to the PRT in time for your meting," Sarah informed me. "You've got about half an hour to shower and dress." Spotting my phone sitting on the bed where I'd apparently passed out at some point last night—or in the early morning—she sighed. "How late did you stay up?"

Sitting up and suppressing a shiver as I was exposed to the colder air of the room, I slid out of bed and onto my feet, nearly yelping at the cold floor. "Not late enough. Can sleep when I'm dead."

Sighing and covering her face with one hand, Sarah caught me by the shoulder with the other before I made it out of the room. "You can't walk around my house naked. Pretty sure you'd give Eric a heart attack. That, or, well… Let's not have an 'or' anything."

"Huh?" I asked, before looking down. "Oh God damnit." Well, at least this one was my own fault. I was so used to living alone—or with other girls, in Claire's case—that I had gone through my normal nightly routine and slept skyclad. "Sorry, give me a minute to wake up and I'll go get ready."

It took me about twenty minutes to get showered, change into the clothes I'd worn last night, and make it out to the Pelham's living room where I found Carol waiting—along with my boxes of clothes and things. After exchanged greetings, she and I piled into her car and I spent the ride over Tinkering on my shiny new interface and making a piss-poor conversationalist. I barely had enough awareness to eat the donut and sip at the hot chocolate she handed me when she stopped for breakfast.

My project for the morning? Recording features—basically using the tech I already had attached to my halo-shaped carrier wave to record my surroundings on voice or keypress—and a lie detector. The second one would need some testing to get working properly, but I could always fine tune it later. The first appeared to be working properly, so I let it run—may as well record the meeting at the PRT for posterity.

If I just happened to rile up Piggot and pictures of her sour puss made it onto the internet, well, I couldn't exactly be blamed for that.

"We're here," Carol said as the car came to a stop and she killed the engine. "You're definitely going to have to put that away for a while."

"But mom," I dragged the word out, saving my work and shutting down the holographic interface.

Carol rolled her eyes and got out of the car. "So now it's 'mom?' I thought I was just Carol, or your lawyer."

I followed the older woman as she led us into the building. "Only when it annoys you. I mean, you did call in a favor for it, so I may as well take advantage of the benefits."

"It says a lot about you that one of the 'benefits' of this arrangement is being able to annoy me," the woman loosed a put-upon sigh as we walked into the lobby. "I'll sign us in. I believe you owe Armsmaster some Tinker time, so you could probably knock out a few hours of that while I'm getting paperwork done."

We made it halfway inside before an alarm sounded. "What—" I started to ask, before spotting ceiling tiles dropping down and mounted guns turning to face us. "Oh for fuck sake—"

They foamed us both.

A stream of what stank like acetone, alcohol, and vinegar—something I was becoming uncomfortably familiar with—washed over me with the force of a fire hose. Immediately following that was a blast of ice cold water. As soon as it let up, I rolled to my feet and spun to face my attackers—and immediately got a stream to the face for my trouble that knocked me on my ass and sent me slamming into the rear wall of the 'shower' room.

"Stand up and face the wall. Do not turn around, do not look at us, do not speak. Any deviation from these orders will result in further disciplinary actions."

I stood and faced the wall. "Didn't you idiots learn anything—" I was cut off mid-sentence by a blast of water that put me on the floor again. When it cut off, I continued, my voice climbing to a shout, "from the last time we did this?!"

"Be silent!"

A sustained blast rolled over me for several seconds before it stopped.

"Now, are you going to stop resisting, or do you want another?"

My patience snapped. "Do it, fucker!"

I was in my cell—clothed in another ungodly orange jumpsuit and slippers they'd stuffed me into after stripping me again—barely a minute before bringing up my holo-interface.

Ceiling tiles dropped and I was foamed to the wall.

'Note to self: direct neural interface. Top of the goddamn list.'

Hours spent 'hanging out' in con-foam.

Someone came and unglued me from the wall.

Another trip through the shower.

Back to my cell.

"I know you're listening."

Of course they were. Dragon's aura was visible in the cameras again, which meant I had at least—I took a minute to make a quick count—six sets of ears listening in on my cell: PRT, Dragon, Dragonslayers, Coil, Empire, and probably Cauldron. Though, that last one may be more specifically 'Contessa' if my being here had drawn her interest. I really hoped not.

"Tinker. Will trade tech for freedom, money, and a boot in the ass to the PRT. My only condition is that I get to personally defenestrate whoever is responsible for this."

No answer.

"Well, fuck you too then."

"Hey Dragon, how about that game of chess?"

"Dragon?"

"Please?"

I was asleep when they came.

Another trip through the shower, this time with some kind of eye-unfriendly soap in the mix.

Another jumpsuit. At least this one fit properly. Too well, really. I suspected they had taken my measurements at some point and just had one made.

Eventually, I was shoved into a chair in the Director's office. I vaguely registered Carol's presence in the seat on my left. 'She looks sexy when she's pissed. And man, she is pissed.'

Piggot cleared her throat. "I'd like to apologize—"

"Shove it up your ass," I said. I think. I was slipping in and out at this point and the room was spinning. "Have it all recorded. Going on the internet. You're fucked."

Instead of going red or shouting, she sighed and collapsed back into her desk chair. "Please don't. I assure you, I had nothing to do with this mistake. I've been in the hospital for emergency treatment since we last spoke. Deputy Director Renick was in charge in my absence."

"What I'd like to know," Carol growled, "is who made the call to have us foamed and thrown in isolation for two days."

Something like a groan escaped Piggot's mouth. "Shadow Stalker was on Console duty. She made the call, Renick backed her. She has since claimed that she didn't get the memo that Ms. Carnelian is not a Master."

I blinked, opening my eyes enough to focus—mostly—on Piggot. "Why is she still here? Why isn't she in juvie after what she did to Taylor Hebert? Put this incident on top of it, and you've got a Ward with a grudge acting out against people she doesn't like."

That was definitely a groan. "I made the suggestion to have her Wards membership revoked and process her through to juvenile hall this morning, when I learned of your situation. To be honest, I thought offering her up as a sacrifice might just stay your hand and save my job. I was overruled."

"Costa-Brown or someone else?" I asked, drawing a curious look from the toad-woman.

"She abstained," Piggot answered cautiously.

'Oh yeah. Definitely on Cauldron's watch list,' I mused. 'Goddamnit drunk!John, didn't you take Blindspot?! It's like, the basic of the basics!'

"And how do you intend to make this right?" Carol asked.

"Out of court settlement. The PRT has already agreed. They're… pretty much doubling what you were to be rewarded for the first case," Piggot explained. "Also, I am to resign—"

I shook my head. "No."

Piggot frowned. "No?"

"Not if it's on my behalf. This wasn't your fuckup, this time," I shrugged. "You're still on strike one with me." That, and it would piss off Calvert, who hadn't lifted a finger to help even when I offered my services as a Tinker. "Do I have to be here for this? I'd really just rather… not. I want to go home. Well. Not home, I suppose, but you know what I mean."

Carol nodded. "I can take care of the legal side of things. I'll call Sarah and see if she can come pick you up."

Nodding in agreement, I closed my eyes and passed out sitting up.