Signal to Noise

05

"Anywhere but here."

I tensed as the buzz increased in volume and I saw a small tidal wave of black creepy-crawlies sweeping across the floor. "I heard about your father. I'm sorry." Her jaw clenched and the tide surged. "But you're not the only one Hess attacked tonight."

The swarm… paused, going eerily silent. "They said you pulled me out of the locker. That you were there when I," she glanced down at the bugs, and I nodded. "And you," she gestured vaguely at my face.

My eyes, probably. Again.

"Yeah. Hess fucked us both. Do you mind…?" I trailed off, holding up a hand and using my neural interface to project the same video I'd shown to Dauntless.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"

I played it.

Unlike when I'd showed Dauntless, I didn't stop at blasting Sophia. I let it play out, stopping on a frozen image of her corpse—what was left of it, anyway. "So she's dead. You killed her." I nodded. Taylor sighed, and the bugs dispersed, disappearing into cracks and crannies. "Good riddance," she whispered.

"Yeah, well, be that as it may I'm still up to my neck in shit over it. PRT wants to bring me in and dope me to the gills to keep me from Tinkering my way out while they decide whether it's self-defense again or I'm a deadly, deranged murderer," I grunted. Shivering in my blanket, I said, "I hate to ask, but… can I crash on your couch tonight?"

She considered it for a moment before nodding. "Tonight."

The taller girl turned and made her way back upstairs. I sighed, dropping onto the couch and sprawling out. It was uncomfortable, lumpy and scratchy against my bare flesh, but if I wanted the blanket I had to actually cover anything I'd have to make sacrifices—and the couch was warm enough that I could lay on it nude anyway. 'God, I have got to stop getting caught without clothes. This is ridiculous. Either sleep clothed or start carrying… Oh.' I hummed as an idea occurred and made a mental note for later: subspace storage pocket.

I had just closed my eyes when I heard Taylor's footsteps come down the stairs again and stop at the foot of the couch. A heavy bundle dropped on my feet and I opened my eyes, spotting a set of sheets and blankets, along with some cotton pants with a draw string and a shirt that would fit me like a tent. "Goodnight," she gave a watery smile, then started towards the stairs.

I considered the clothes, then sniffed at my blanket. I smelled like smoke, fire, and blood. "Hey Taylor, where's your shower? I kinda smell like smoke…"

"Upstairs. Second door on the left. Towels under the sink," she answered without turning around.

Following her up, I took a few minutes to clean up, rinsed my mouth out with her mouthwash, then went back down to the couch. Pulling on my borrowed clothes, I tossed sheets and blankets on the bed and crawled in, made myself a nest, set my shiny new detection array to alert me if anyone entered the room, and passed out.

I woke up what felt like only an hour or two later to the TV on low volume and the smell of toast and bacon being cooked. Yawning, I stood up and made my way towards the kitchen, ignoring the gnat that passed my face and landed on my shoulder as I went. "You're on the news," Taylor said before I could sit down. "Local stations are all talking about it. You're a child killer, outed Sophia and me, and New Wave sheltered you and let you escape. They're saying you're a villain and need to be Birdcaged."

"Fuck," I grunted, sitting down at the table. "Sounds like the PRT pulled out the big guns and went fully on the attack after I posted that video last night. Trying to pull a character assassination. Hang on a minute."

I took a few minutes to pull up the videos Armsmaster had sent Carol, along with the ones I'd taken from my own equipment, upload them to multiple video sites, then made a throwaway account on PHO and started dropping links. "There. Every fuckup they've made with me, all uploaded to the internet. Let's see how they like my return fire." Shooting her a look as she sat down with a plate, I asked, "How are you holding up?"

"Not well," Taylor shot me a flat look. I winced, taking in the bags under her eyes. "Nightmares all night. But at least I got something out of it. I can control small animals now—cats, dogs, mice, birds. Thanks Sophia."

"Lay that sarcasm on any thicker and it may just be usable as armor against an Endbringer," I snarked.

Her hand clenched around her fork. "I think I am allowed to be a bit sarcastic."

Shrugging, I said, "Didn't say you weren't. So, given any thought to what you're going to do next?"

"Most of the night," she answered around a bite of bacon. Pausing, she swallowed before pointing at the stove. "Sorry. If you're hungry I… I cooked enough for me and Da—" She cleared her throat, looking away. "It'll go to waste."

I stood, moving to the stove and collecting a couple of pieces of toast. I found the glasses in a cabinet and poured a glass of milk before retaking my seat. "Thank you."

The brunette nodded. "I don't know. I think dad," she swallowed at the word. "I think he had a life insurance policy, but that will probably barely cover funeral expenses unless I… unless I have him—"

"Cremated," I finished for her, and she nodded.

"Even then," she continued, "bills are piling up. Lights, gas, water—all past due. Hospital bills…"

Frowning, I asked, "Wait. What about the settlement from the PRT? Winslow?"

"What settlement?" Taylor asked, looking up from her plate.

Nibbling on my toast, I swallowed before answering, "Your dad didn't pursue legal action against the school or the PRT for the locker and Sophia?"

Taylor scoffed. "The school made dad sign some sort of release basically letting them off the hook for the whole thing. I don't think he ever pursued a case against the PRT, because we couldn't afford a lawyer."

"I happen to know a good one, who would be perfectly willing to take your case for a chunk of the money. Of course, the PRT will know we've had contact if you go for it," I suggested. "But you can always say I spent the night, left before you woke up, and you didn't know I was a fugitive."

She went quiet, considering it while she ate. I took the opportunity to polish off my toast and drain most of the milk in my glass. "I don't know," Taylor eventually said. "On the one hand, I want to get back at the PRT for the way they handled the whole 'Sophia' thing. On the other hand, it won't… won't bring dad back."

I scoffed. "So, you'll just throw away all that money and wind up homeless because money won't resurrect the dead? If it were me, I'd want to see the people ultimately responsible for my father's death suffer for it, and if it got me out of a bad situation myself then so much the better. You don't have to hold back out of some silly notion that revenge is wrong. Trust me, it's not, especially when it's legal revenge. They call that 'justice.'"

A thrum briefly sounded from the walls as the girl across from me glared. After a moment, it quieted again and she went back to her toast. "I'll consider it."

"That's all I ask," I said, leaning back in my seat. "But when I asked what you had planned, I'd meant more as a parahuman. A cape."

Taylor didn't meet my eyes as she shrugged. "No idea. Not sure what good bugs and small animals are."

I blinked at that. "Taylor. Close your eyes." She looked up, sending me a questioning look. "Trust me. Close your eyes and point at me. And keep pointing at me."

I stood, going invisible. A tweak of the same waveform that ate light set it to eating sound as well, meaning that when I moved I was dead silent. Her finger tracked me the entire time as I moved around the kitchen. Finally, I stopped behind her and shut off the silencing effect. "Taylor, how do you know I'm behind you?"

"I heard you?" she asked as I moved back around to sit down, dropping my invisibility effect as well.

"Nope. Invisible and silent. Try again."

She frowned. "I don't know."

Rolling my eyes, I pointed to the gnat on my shoulder. "You've had this thing on me the whole time. You tracked me coming into the kitchen."

"I did? I thought I'd heard you," Taylor muttered. "Huh."

"Find a bird. Tell me how well you can see out of its eyes," I suggested.

After a moment, she went wide-eyed. "How did I not notice this last night? I mean, I knew I could control the ones in my range, but this is… wow. So much better than just bugs."

I smirked. "So, what you're saying is, you're a Master capable of being completely aware of everyone and everything within whatever your range is."

"About half a mile," she answered the unasked question. A small smile touched her face. "This is pretty cool. Probably the nicest thing my powers have let me do since I got them." Her smile faded. "I just wish…"

"You could have shown your father?" I asked, and she nodded. I knew that was unlikely, but I was polite enough not to say it to her face.

Deciding to change the subject, or at least the focus, she asked, "What about you? What are your plans?"

"I'd like to clear my name, but if the video doesn't do it then I don't know what will. I had planned to sell Tinkertech for money, but I've got a feeling the PRT has frozen my accounts. Again. With that in mind, I could always kick in the door to a gang safehouse and steal their cash. Assuming I can find one. Then I'll need to find somewhere to lay low. Can't stay here much longer. Eventually, the PRT will come looking for me, and you'll have lawyers and the like to deal with," I mused aloud. 'Take the bait.'

Taylor blinked. "I could find them."

Shooting her a raised eyebrow, I asked, "What do you mean?"

"There are bugs, mice, and rats everywhere in this city. You said it yourself, I'm basically the world's best street-level information gatherer," she reminded.

Or so she believed. I almost felt bad. Putting on a cautious look, I slowly shook my head. "No," I dragged the word out a bit, "I mean, I'd appreciate the help and yeah, your power would come in handy… but you'd just get dragged down with me. Probably better if you just stay here and handle your father's affairs."

Taylor crossed her arms over her chest, a mulish look crossing her face as her eyes narrowed. "I have my own reasons for wanting to help. And yes, they're selfish. I can use the money to make sure I can keep the house, keep the lights on, and I won't have to just… put dad in a damned oven. I can give him the burial he deserves, beside mom. The way I see it, I'm going to go hunting one way or another now. You can help me, or you can go it on your own. I'll figure out some way of using my powers to do it without you if I have to."

I turned the smirk that threatened to spill out into a grateful smile. "Well, if you insist…"

"I do."

"Okay, then," I nodded. Standing up from the table, I made my way back into the living room and slipped on my shoes. "Let's go."

Taylor frowned. "Dressed like that?"

Checking my 'battery' and finding that it had recharged off of something in the house last night, I found it would be usable for what I wanted for now. I pulled up a few fashion websites and fed pictures of clothed models through my hologram generator, stripping out the clothes and projecting them around me. I was left in an oversized hologram of a set of jeans, blue sweater, and a long brown jacket. A bit of work got them sized properly and made sure I wouldn't have any 'clipping' issues. That wouldn't be possible with hardlight projections, but I just didn't have the juice for that at the moment. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"I think that's cheating and I want it," Taylor grumbled, heading upstairs, presumably to change her own clothes.

While she was upstairs, I went to the bathroom and found the mirror. More playing with holograms changed my hair to red, my eyes to a bright green, and gave me a light tan. Satisfied for now, I went back down and found Taylor waiting.

"Definitely cheating," she muttered as she shook her head and made her way to the front door. "So, where are we going?"

I may not have had a plan in mind when I left the house, but by the time we got to the end of the street—piled into her dad's pickup, which I'd suggested we borrow—I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do. "Well, first things first. I need a serious jumpstart if I want to do anything worthwhile."

"Hm?" Taylor asked, glancing up from where she'd been looking out the window.

"I need power," I explained, pulling up a map using my neural interface. A bit of searching satellite photos got me what I wanted—high tension lines running into the city, outside city limits. An hour or so worth of drive time got us out into a pretty, forested area and off onto a service road leading to a line cut through the woods.

Parking the truck, I got out and gestured for Taylor to stay. "I've never tried to draw this much at once, so I have no idea what's going to happen. You might want to stay back here. If I explode and am still breathing, call Panacea and tell her to come fix it."

"I don't have a phone," Taylor pointed out.

I shrugged. "Well, then if I explode, I guess I'm fucked and you can have my stuff."

Walking under the lines, I felt the hairs on the back of my arms stand up. 'Please don't explode,' I prayed. Taking a deep breath, I turned on my neural interface and grabbed the slider for draw rate from local EM sources, before bumping it over to 100%. The world around me lit up as electricity arced down from the high tension lines and disappeared several yards away from me. I glanced at my energy meter and gulped, watching as the number ran up, and up, and up. "That's a lot of joules," I muttered.

I didn't have much time before someone figured out what I'd done, so at the one minute mark I adjusted the draw back down and ran for the truck. Hopping in, I turned it over, spun us around, and tore ass back for the highway.

"That was nuts. I think I went deaf in one ear and I'm seeing spots," Taylor shook her head. "How much did you get?"

I glanced at my counter. "A lot." Enough that my holographic clothes had fleshed out into hardlight clothes. All the systems I'd modified or coded outright last night were available with power to spare.

Of course, things weren't quite so rosy when we got back into town. We saw more than one pileup blocking intersections. "What happened?" Taylor asked, but I had a feeling I already knew. It shouldn't be possible. Cities were typically fed by more than just one input and most had their own backup generators for critical infrastructure. At worst, the lights should have gone out for normal people, but traffic lights and so on would have stayed on.

'But this is Brockton Bay, and it's been MacGyver'd so many times by now it's probably one hard wind away from the lights going out for good. Shit.'

Turning on the radio, I caught the tail end of a broadcast. "—fficial word from the Protectorate is that they are unsure at this time if a parahuman was involved in the city-wide blackout, but they are investigating and will have an answer soon."

Taylor turned a flat stare on me. "Oops?" I said.

"Is that all you have to say?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Could have always been worse."

"Why are we visiting the zoo? I mean, it's cool, especially now, but…" Taylor trailed off in confusion.

I sent her a grin. "Because we need to increase the size of your toolbox. So, we're looking for something useful. Specifically, primates. You want a spider monkey or two—Geoffroy's, preferably, due to the size and versatility. If they've got more, then four is fine."

"What do they look like? There are a lot of monkeys," she asked. I took a moment to pull up images and project a hologram into the cab of the truck. "Okay, I've got them. Now, how do I get them out?"

I snorted. "What separates us from them, Taylor? Use your brain. Once you've got them out, send them through the woods bordering the park and we'll pick them up on the road."

Once we had the monkeys, hiding in the back seat to keep them out of sight and from freezing to death, I pulled up my map and drove us towards our first test. "We're heading into Merchant territory. I'll drive the speed limit, but try to scout fast. We don't want to stop here."

Taylor nodded, closing her eyes as I drove. Several minutes in, she hummed. "Think I found something. Looks like drugs and cash. Rats in the building, can you give me a minute?"

Looking around, I drove down a side street and pulled into an empty parallel parking spot, leaving the motor running, the truck in gear, and one foot on the gas while I held the brake in case I needed to get us moving fast. My eyes stayed glued to the mirrors and windshield. "Make it quick. We can't linger."

"There are guards, but they're asleep. It's on the second story. I think I can get there over the roofs. Birds in the area show the streets are mostly clear, and no one's looking up. Go or no?"

I considered it, then rolled the window down. "Go."

Four spider monkeys crawled out of the back seat, out the window, and into the street where they began scaling a gutter on the side of the building we were parked beside. I kept watch as Taylor worked silently, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel and wondering how much longer it would take. Eventually, she laughed quietly and the truck shook. A moment later, monkeys streamed in my window. "Let's go. We're clear. Keep going, or stop here?"

"If you can keep a few birds on overwatch around us, we'll keep going," I suggested. "Also, next time? If you spot a gun, pick it up for me. Preferably a semi-auto, not a revolver, but I'll take what I can get at this point."

With a frown, Taylor shot me a questioning look as I pulled out and moved us deeper into drug dealer land. Being the middle of the day, I was not entirely surprised that people who spent most of their nights getting high were passed out, but I was still cautious. I made a mental note to change my schedule around for the next time we tried this. Early morning, some time between seven and ten, would probably work best against the Merchants. "Why do you need a gun?"

"Because at the moment, my options are punch them in the face and potentially get shot myself, have you waste perfectly good monkeys distracting them, or explodey death ray lasers. You saw what that one did to Sophia. That was on about a car battery's worth of charge. I've got a minute worth of the entire city's power stored. What do you think even a fraction of a second of that will do, by comparison?" I asked, causing the girl to wince. "Yeah, thought not. Guns? People respect guns. They know what it is, what it can do, and know not to fuck with them. It is a known threat of a specific lethality. Until I can make something less dangerous than death ray lasers, I'd rather just have a gun."

"Fair enough," she sighed. "We should probably stop by a supermarket or something and get the monkeys something to eat."

"I'll look up their dietary requirements when we're done," I agreed.

We hit two more places before I decided that that was as much as I wanted to risk for a first outing. I used some of the purloined money to get gas, groceries for the house and the monkeys, along with some replacement clothes for myself since I couldn't really go around wearing Taylor's spares the rest of the week, then I brought us back to her home. We carefully got the monkeys inside and into the basement where Taylor fed them and put them to sleep for now since we would need them awake for later. Likewise, I suggested that she go get a nap while she could. I spent the time washing my new clothes and texting Amy.

Ah, the benefits of unregistered Tinker-shit hacking the phone system to do what I wanted it to without giving my presence away.

CC: How are things?

The reply came a few minutes later.

AD: We're okay. You?

I hummed at that, wondering how to word what I wanted to ask.

CC: Fine for now. Looking for a new place, since I was evicted from the last one with no notice. Busybodies checking your texts to make sure you're behaving yourself and not consorting with bad influences?

AD: Yep.

CC: Great. Let the others know I'm doing okay? I've got to go. Lot of work to do tonight.

AD: I will. Stay safe.

Dropping onto the couch, I settled in to Tinker for a bit while I waited for my clothes. 'First, maybe some different lasers. Something less lethal. More 'force' than 'heat.' Or I could go over the list… Ooh, healing lasers. Nice. Those are going on the list. Freeze lasers? Yes please. Shock lasers, freeze or slow time lasers, darkness lasers that would essentially do what Grue's darkness does without the 'smoke' effect, sleep lasers. Jesus. Okay, yeah. I am making all the lasers today.'

And then I remembered my thought from last night and stopped myself as an idea came to mind. "Build order," I muttered.

First order of business: subspace storage pocket dimension thing. I needed a handy place to keep my things. Especially once I was done making new stuff for today…

Once I got that finished, I had enough juice leftover before I needed a break for about two esoteric laser types on top of a 'force' laser, so I picked sleep—what I would be immediately naming a narcolepsy laser—and darkness. The dark laser, I modified into the 'explodey' variety of laser. I could set the intensity beforehand and, when it hit, it would explode outwards into a sphere of true darkness—no light, no sound, no radio, nada in or out. It would even 'stick' to a target, so if I shot a person directly and set the expansion for a yard, it would lock someone in their own little bubble of darkness until the effect terminated or I used the counter-laser—which, thankfully, Wavelength gave me pretty much for free as part of a set.

That done, I finished changing my laundry over to dry then crashed out on the couch for a while.

Unfortunately, I had only been asleep a few minutes before a knock sounded at the front door. 'Oh, fuck. Did the PRT find me already?'

"Taylor, honey?" a woman's voice called. "It's Lacey and Kurt. Can we come in?"

There was another knock, and I heard movement from upstairs. I looked to the stairs and found Taylor blearily walking down them. Her eyes went wide when she met mine and remembered I was there, before jerking to the door, where 'Lacey' knocked again.

Pulling up my neural interface, I turned my holographic disguise back on and Taylor stopped freaking out. "Coming!" she called, hurrying to the door. Cracking it open, she checked out the other side before opening it and gesturing for her guests to come in.

A short, brown haired woman nearly knocked Taylor over as she pulled her into a hug. "I'm so sorry about Danny," she murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

Feeling awkward watching this, I stood up just as a tall, blond man stepped in and closed the door behind him. He was, to put it bluntly, build like a brick shithouse. Tall, wide, and muscled. "Taylor, who's your friend?"

"Joan," I smiled, walking over and offering my hand to the bear of a man. "Joan White." Well, it was close to my name—the feminine version, at least. Better that, than Claire's name. "I'm a friend of Taylor's from Winslow. I'm a senior and I can drive, so I figured I'd come by and make sure she was taking care of herself—and get her anywhere she needed to be for the next few days, while dealing with… the arrangements." I trailed off, allowing my smile to fall.

Kurt nodded. "Thanks," he nodded once. "We're actually here about that. Have you got a few, Taylor?"

The taller girl looked to me and I nodded. "Go ahead. I'll borrow your dad's truck and go see about picking up groceries and running a few errands—give you guys some privacy. Call me on the house phone if you need me," I said, taking up a nearby notepad and pen off a small table beside the couch and scratching down my number.

My excuses made, I snagged the keys to the truck and left, but not before heading to the drier and changing into real clothes.

I drove into town, pulling up a map as I went. Once I was satisfied I knew the area well enough, I pulled into a side street a few blocks down from my target and parked, killing the truck and shifting my holographic disguise to something new: blonde hair, blue eyes, kept the tan, and changed my clothes. I went with a 'business professional' look—pencil skirt, collared shirt under a form hugging sweater, stockings, flats, and a charcoal jacket to finish it off. Some finagling of my 'camera' systems got me a third person perspective of myself, allowing me to rotate the view around and take everything in.

"A bit short, but," I put on a no nonsense expression and conjured up a hardlight pair of frameless glasses over my eyes. "Adds a few years, yeah. No makeup. Lipstick?" I tried out a hologram over Claire's lips, tinging them with a bit of pink, then red before finally getting it where I wanted. "Yeah. Okay. Screams 'trying hard to compensate for her size,'" I finally decided. Hopping out of the truck, I made my way up the street towards the bank.

Walking inside, I swept the lobby—two armed guards, four tellers, a few people in offices off to the sides, crowd of six civilians in front of the tellers—and made my way into the shortest line, where I put on a bored and irritable look that I didn't exactly have to fake. I crossed my arms and tapped my foot as I waited, my 'camera' allowing me to keep track of the entire lobby as it broadcast a 360 degree view of the area from a perspective above my head directly into my brain. It took some getting used to, dealing with that and the input from my eyes, so I spent the wait time dealing with it. If I could get used to doing this on a regular basis, it would be an invaluable tool to allow me to keep track of things going on around me.

Eventually, the line in front of me cleared and I found myself before a teller. The woman looked down on me from her position and her lips twitched. I frowned, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me," I said, the epitome of polite. "If your branch manager has a few minutes, I'd like to meet with him."

A look of uncertainty crossed the pretty redhead's face. "Um, let me check…" she hesitated, picking up a phone and punching a button on a panel I couldn't see. Speaking quietly enough that I couldn't hear, she had a hurried conversation before eventually nodding and hanging up. "Yes, he's available. Through the hall on your left, last office on the right."

I nodded my thanks and turned on my heel, stalking down the hall. Finding the open door labeled 'A. Jones, Branch Manager, BBFNB' I knocked on the door frame and entered, closing the door behind me as he looked up from his paperwork and sent me a small smile. "How can I help you, Ms…?" he trailed off.

Smiling, I cut the hologram over my eyes, drawing a widening of his own as they went gold. "Carnelian. Please keep your hands where I can see them. I mean you no harm and simply wish to discuss business."

Clearing his throat, he nodded and sat up a bit straighter. "Okay, sure. You're in charge. How can I help you today?"

"As you have no doubt heard by now, the local news is dragging my good name through the mud—labeling me a murderer, terrorist, child killer, villain who disregards the unwritten rules, you get the idea." He nodded slowly. "It's false, but the PRT is very good at PR, as you may imagine. They've also likely frozen my bank account. Which just happens to be with this bank."

"Yes," he nodded, lowering his hands towards his keyboard. "May I?" I nodded and he began typing. "The freeze was put in place last night."

"Figures," I sighed. "Okay, look. I don't want to rob you, but you have my money. So, I have a proposition. How would you like to be the bank manager who, instead of losing money to a villain, instead made money for the bank from one?"

Mr. Jones hummed. "I'm listening."

"How much money, in cash, do you have on hand?" I asked.

He typed away at his computer for a moment before answering, "A little over three and a quarter million."

"And my account says I have a little under ten million, correct?" If that sounds low, that's because the PRT opted to pay in 'installments.' I should've forced them to give it to me all at once, because now there was no way they weren't going to try to recover what little they did lose.

He nodded and I said, "I'd like to withdraw 'a little over three and a quarter million' dollars in cash. Everything you have in the vault. Deduct it from my account, tack on a ten percent… call it 'emergency withdrawal' fee, and we part ways amicably. You call the PRT and inform them that I've been by when I leave, then call your bosses and have the physical money replaced. No one but the PRT loses here, and if they want to pursue legal action against the bank, you can always claim that I'm that scary parahuman terrorist you heard about on the news and you didn't feel the money was worth your life. What do you say?"

Mr. Jones nodded once, then began rapidly typing away at something. After a few moments, a laser printer nearby spat out three sheets of paper. He passed them over and said, "The top copy is a withdrawal receipt for $3,250,460, along with your remaining balance. The bottom two are a written agreement stating that you agree to a 10% 'short notice' withdrawal fee. Please sign one and keep the other for your records."

I signed the sheet and passed it over. Mr. Jones stood up and headed for the door, motioning for me to follow. I quickly changed my eyes back to blue and walked with him. As he did, he launched into a spiel about the various types and sizes of safety deposit boxes the bank had available. I nodded along as we walked through the lobby, appearing to be paying rapt attention to his sales pitch, while in actuality I was keeping an eye on my third person field of view. I was mildly surprised when the guards remained where they were, the people in line hadn't freaked out, and the tellers simply did their jobs.

He lead me into the vault and pulled it partly closed behind us. "Here we are," he said, voice low as he gestured to three pallets of shrink-wrapped cash on the floor and a table with the remains of a single stack of what looked to be tens. "How will you—"

Moving quickly, I shifted the pallets into my new subspace storage, then pocketed the stack of tens. "Like that," I smirked.

He lead me back out, leaving the vault closed enough that no one had a good view on the inside, but I knew that the security office was likely already calling the PRT over the sudden disappearance of their cash. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Jones. I may be by again next month," I smiled, shaking his hand and leaving out the front door at a brisk pace. I took off up the sidewalk in the opposite direction of Danny's truck, walked half a block, and ducked into the lobby of a random business.

Hurrying into a women's room, I changed my disguise out—platinum blonde hair cut short, white dress and coat, pale skin, left the blue eyes—and left the way I'd come. Turning down a side street, I made the block around the bank and looped back around to Danny's truck. Sliding inside, I started the engine and pulled into traffic. I kept to the speed limit the entire time, stopping at every red light, signaling at every turn, and all the while I kept an eye on my rearview to make sure I wasn't being followed. Once I'd made it a few miles away, I breathed a quiet sigh and relaxed, shifting my disguise back to the redhead from this morning. "Solo bank robbery in broad daylight, no police response, no heroes, no casualties. Suck it, Undersiders!" I chuckled.

Pulling into a parking lot, I began the second phase of my afternoon plan. Pulling up a map of the city while I left the motor, and the heat, running I began searching the docks area using satellite and street view. Eventually, I found what I was looking for. A bit of cross-referencing with the address and a teensy bit of hacking into city records got me the name of the person holding the deed to a certain building. A bit more searching got me a phone number. A few minutes of talking over the phone and the owner agreed to meet in person.

A little over an hour later, I was a hundred thousand dollars lighter but had the deed to my very own villainous hideout, formerly belonging to Coil. Well, it would've belonged to Coil and been given to the Undersiders, if I hadn't gotten to it first. It really is amazing how quickly problems disappear when you throw enough money at them. Almost a super power unto itself.

My business taken care of, I drove back to the Hebert home.