CH3 - Introductions

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"Scathing eyes ask that we be symmetrical, one sided and easily processed. Yet every misshapen spark's unseen beauty is greater than its would be judgement." - RWBY Yellow

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Private message from XxVoid_CowboyxX:

XxVoid_CowboyxX: hey you sell tinkertech?

FocusedLithium: Yes. I sell:

Drop-in, rechargeable upgrades for all common battery types
Flexible, slim universal power boosters for phones and common devices
Large emergency power banks
Efficient wireless power transmitters
High-efficiency solar panels
Wall-clinging gloves and socks
Holographic projectors
Transforming smart clothing
Environmentally sealable smart clothing
Augmented reality specs
Autonomous housekeeping drones

Other items are available. I am open to special requests. There are limits on the technology I am willing to sell to the public, however.

A larger, detailed catalogue with pricing is available here: [LINK]

XxVoid_CowboyxX: cool, can I get a sample? just so I know its for real

FocusedLithium: Payment is on delivery, so you do not assume any risk. There are no free samples.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: ive only got like 30 dollars can you give me a discount

XxVoid_CowboyxX: hello

XxVoid_CowboyxX: dude you there

— — —

When it came to my new online business, I didn't have to do much. Sia handled most of it without any input on my part.

This was good, because the money was all but worthless.

What wasn't worthless were contacts. Given that Coil was— for the moment— satisfying the material requirements of establishing something vaguely resembling modern infrastructure, I was only selling to build reputation and relationships. Even in this capitalist society, reputation remained a universal currency. It was just… less explicit than I was used to.

Hopefully, those contacts would include tinkers. It was obvious that tinkertech could do things that transhuman technology could not.

That, I needed. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to return home, or to stay here. What I did know was that the technology I had wasn't going to cut it either way.

But right now, I had a bigger problem. Coil.

He still wanted plasma rifles like mine. Though I had never demonstrated the thing, I could only assume that somehow, he knew its destructive power. He seemed to have a way of knowing things he shouldn't.

The impatience was easy to understand. As far as he knew, I made the one I had, and he was probably aware of how fast I produced other things. It didn't take a leap of logic to see how he would conclude I was just stalling him.

But telling him the truth was insane, and even if he believed me, I doubted he would have a problem with crippling my manufacturing build up just to get what he wanted now. It might even be a bonus.

I was getting tired of dealing with this man. He made sure that I got all my materials through him, so I had no good outside source of bulk feedstock, and had never delivered a dollar of the money he promised. All a game of control. A clumsy effort to shackle me to him.

I had to remind myself I was only humoring him. Just until my feedstock refining machinery was done. It let me tolerate things.

For now.

The real puzzle was Tattletale. She was clearly supposed to be spying on me, and just as clearly making no effort. Right now, she was sprawled across a couch in my lounge.

"Don't you have a team to hang out with?" I said.

"Yep."

I resisted the urge to massage my forehead, and just gave her a flat look.

"...Then why are you here."

"I get bored," she admitted. "Regent plays video games, Bitch only cares about dogs, and for Grue it's just a job. They don't know about Coil, either— who else am I gonna complain to?"

"Coil? What does he want this time?"

"He has me after the Ward's identities, the creep. It's all 'just get it done', too, he doesn't care about how difficult social hacks are, or how easy it is to fall in a PRT honeypot. My power is intuition, not magic, you know? He needs to just fuck off."

"So why work for him?"

She sighed. "He recruited me at gunpoint. That sucked, but I'll be honest: I was stealing tourist's money and getting by on what I could spend from their accounts before anti-Thinker bullshit locked them down. I didn't know what I was doing, and this guy did. Threatened me, yeah, but it's easy money and all the stuff I'm bad at is handled by other people. It was fun— is fun, when he isn't breathing down my neck."

"Is this your way of saying I should just work for Coil?" I said dryly.

"No. I've seen enough to know you're on a whole different level. The good outweighed the suck with Coil for me, but you? You're just using him."

I tensed. "If you know that…"

"...Why haven't I told him?" she said, grinning. "Because I'm not stupid. If he could have gotten you locked down he would have already done it. He's obsessed with being in control, and yet with you he's got nothing. I don't know how or why, but you're too strong for him to piss off."

"That explains why he hasn't done anything. Not why you haven't told him," I noted.

"Alright," she said. "All cards on the table. This cape shit is a game, okay? Maybe not for you, but it is for me. Coil telling me to dig up people's secret identities? I told you about the unwritten rules, so you know that's not the way to play. I don't like it. I'm just… keeping my options open."

"Hm."

"How did you put it when we met? I want you to be my friend," she said, leaning forward with an all-too-amused smile.

"You are a troublesome girl… but I understand," I said. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Great," she chirped. "My name's Lisa, by the way. Only fair since I have yours…"

"I suppose." It was a better handle than Tattletale.

"Yeah… so, there's this job that Coil wants the Undersiders to do. I think you should come."

"Job?"

"Yeah, he wants us to rob the Ruby Dreams casino."

I had been laying low. Despite the increasing furor over my tinkertech sales on PHO, I had not been seen in public since the market. To reappear doing a robbery…

"No."

"Come on," she complained. "You'll get in a fight sooner or later. At least this way you can feel them out somewhere that it isn't on your doorstep."

"It isn't about the fight," I denied. "I'm not interested in being spun as some moustache-twirling villain. I have greater goals."

"Oh?" Lisa leaned forward, grinning. "Like what?"

"Don't worry about it," I said.

She huffed. "Fine. What about selling us some tech? The good stuff, not the cutesy family-friendly PHO stuff."

"That's… you're trying awful hard to get me tangled up in your business, aren't you?" I challenged.

"It'll happen sooner or later," she said unapologetically. "Might as well be sooner."

"We'll see. That isn't a reason to give you 'the good stuff'."

"Hmmm…" She pursed her lips, scrutinizing me. "Okay, how about this. I'll give you contact info and an introduction to the Number Man. He's basically like, the villain banker. Money laundering, anonymous accounts, electronic whatever, all those problems? Gone."

"I'm sure Coil will be pleased," I said. She grinned.

"I won't tell him if you won't."

"I don't suppose you know where he is getting my materials from…"

She made a face. "Sorry, the Number Man is an exception, not the rule. There isn't some magic one-stop guy for materials. Except maybe Toybox. But no, that's parts, not the kind of stuff you use." She shook her head. "Anyway. This lets you use the money piling up in your basement for more than your shady deals with creepy robots. You can reach out yourself under whatever fake names the Number Man gives you, take deliveries at some random warehouse. More options for you."

"Fine," I relented.

"Great," she said, grinning. "You also need a real cape name."

"What's wrong with FocusedLithium?"

"...Everything."

— — —

The next time I saw Lisa, she looked worn out. She trudged inside without a word, and fell down onto my couch.

"Hello to you too," I said after a minute. She made unintelligible noises into the fabric.

I stood there patiently, and she finally rolled onto her side. "We need better stuff."

"I take it your job didn't go well."

"It went fine," she said defensively. "It's just that the ABB were kind of mad at us, and they heard we were there…"

"So it didn't go well."

She scowled at me. "Yeah, well, I met someone interesting. New girl, controls bugs. She fucked Lung up good, we just held him down until he was out. Then bailed before Armsmaster showed."

"So should we expect a new Ward soon?" I said idly.

"...I'm thinking the Undersiders should recruit her," she said. "She would make a good heavy, and she seems a little suicidal. I could help her get over it—"

"Don't fool yourself," I interrupted. "If you want her for her power, just say so."

"It's not about her power," she protested. "She's messed up, and nobody is doing anything."

"I don't see you considering any solution other than making her a criminal. It's surely within your ability…"

She just looked at me like I'd pissed in her cereal.

"So, about that tinkertech," she said abruptly. "I think we need some armor or something, definitely need some better weapons. I know you've got something good." She gave me a winning smile.

I sighed, recognizing she wasn't interested in talking about the girl anymore. It wasn't like I really cared. Besides, I'd long ago developed a disdain for those who would deny other's agency for any reason. This 'bug girl' could make her own decisions… or mistakes. She was a person, not a pet. If she went along with Lisa's foolishness… better for her to make her mistakes with Lisa.

There were certainly worse people she could be listening to.

"It depends on how flashy you want to be," I said. "I can sell you an inferior equivalent to the PRT's foam sprayers, wireless ranged tasers… or if you don't mind looking skeevy, there are agonizers. They use microwaves to induce pain. Harmless but…"

"Not the best PR," she finished, nodding. "No, I dunno, personal shields or anything like that?"

"No," I said. "Not in the sense you mean. Maybe someday."

She studied my face, and I wondered what she was thinking. I knew her power was some kind of deduction, but not how far it went.

Surely not too far, or she would be saying very different things.

"What about melee?"

"What about it?" I shrugged. "Collapsible shock baton, shock gloves. I don't have a lot of nonlethal weapons, that's the real issue."

Her eyes widened before she schooled her face. "I see. Okay… Grue would kill for the shock gloves, I want the stunner and agonizer. Bitch… ugh." She rolled, staring at the ceiling. "She won't even wear a real costume," she whined.

She slowly sat up. "Okay. Regent would want the shocker or stunner integrated in his scepter. He's big on looking dumb and harmless. What about armor?"

"I'm guessing you don't want power armor for everyone," I said. "In order to fit with your current styles I'd need everyone to come in for a look. I can definitely make you all immune to normal blades, shrapnel, and so on. Where plating is allowed, similarly bulletproof. Smartmatter and interlocking paneling can do almost as good everywhere else, if you don't mind the look of it."

"That might be a problem for me, but everyone else should be able to work with that," she said. "Except Bitch. Grue will have to talk to her— she's impossible."

"Alright," I said simply.

She stretched back out on the couch. "I don't feel like going home, so I'm just going to stay here."

I sighed.

— — —

People slowed, staring, as I strode down the boardwalk. My entoptics flicker-highlighted cell phones being pulled out and aimed at me, clearing as each was ruled out as a weapon.

There was a reason for all the attention, and this time it wasn't the fins radiating heat on my skull. Rather than wearing normal clothing, today I wore my armor.

Given I entered the Gate as a consultant, I'd favored speed and convenience over sheer protection, so it was a simple design, with optimization lost to aesthetics as well. The mission had been last second, after all— I'd grabbed the best thing laying around already fabbed.

Organoweave fibers, fullerene, and smart materials combined into a smooth, grey form fitting suit that left nothing to the imagination. What kept it from being vulgar— in this time and place, at least— was the heavy body armor. Blue-grey metal wrapped my pelvis. Hard-edged slabs of the same alloy covered my limbs save for the joints, and where unmoving metal wouldn't work, overlapping panels of of reactive smartmatter took over. Atop it all a simple harness hung empty, the same golden-brown as my gloves and boots. Today, I left my weapons at home.

Given that it was a hypercorp design, it was as sharp as any costume was likely to be. Definitely sharper than I could make anything look.

Which was why I was here.

I learned a long time ago that if I wasn't good at something, I should find someone that was, and have them do it instead. There is a trap that many fall into. The misconception goes that specialists are costly, so you're better off doing it yourself. This might even be true, if you cannot afford them. But the reality is they often can charge so much because their skill represents countless hours of mistakes learned. It's easy to get tripped up by some gotcha they overcame long ago, and the next thing you know?

You've spent too long on it. You could have made more in that time than the guy charged, just sticking to what you were good at. You wanted to 'save money', but you came out with less in the end. And most of the time, that do-it-yourselfer won't even realize they lost.

What I was bad at was art. I didn't know why… well, I did, sort of. It was too fuzzy for me. No matter how much math was used in an aesthetic design… sure, there were ways to quantify it all, but for me it was a hassle, a mental pain to deal with. I didn't want to learn.

Regrettably, form sometimes mattered as much as function.

Ahead of me was a simple tourist trap. The only thing that set it apart from the rest was the gigantic stuffed animals doing some kind of performance in front. Eastern dragons slowly swimming through the air, toy lions leaping about.

At first I distracted the crowd, but after I just leaned against a building to watch, most of them went back to watching the animals.

The reason I was here only faltered a moment, glancing at me, before getting back to the job. She was in a full-body costume, done up like a old porcelain doll. There wasn't the slightest patch of skin shown; even around her eyes, what little showed was covered in paint. Her hair was an obvious blonde wig.

This was Parian, a local rogue. She studiously avoided the 'game', as Lisa would call it, only using her powers for business, entertaining and doing promotions. An interview in a local magazine revealed that she was a fashion student outside of this. She only entered the scene at all to for the money and attention. An edge. She made all the animals and mascots herself from cloth and thread on the fly, and they looked good. She intended to reveal her identity someday, but not yet. When she felt it would best benefit her fashion design career, I assumed.

Driven. Studying to make a career in fashion design rather than trying to live off her power forever, something entirely possible. Rejecting unnecessary conflict, in direct contravention of the impulses in every parahuman. It couldn't last, I knew, but it was impressive nonetheless. I needed an artist's touch, and judging from the puppets before me, she had it.

In the eyes of these heroes and villains, she was nobody. That was the only reason she had been able to do this unmolested for so long. All that mattered to them was power. They saw the stuffed animals, and they looked away. Any other skills she possessed were meaningless. I saw things differently.

It was simply a matter of convincing her, and I had just the angle.

The crowd was thinning, the animals unraveling and transforming into rolls of cloth and thread, fluff pouring into boxes like it was alive. Children looked back enraptured even as the parents started to lead them away.

A few animals remained, even gaining a little bulk. I noticed her glancing at me, tension in her profile. Even so, once everything was packed up, I approached.

"Parian, I believe? My name is Epsilon— I also go by FocusedLithium on PHO." I smiled pleasantly, extending my hand.

After a moment of staring at it, she reached out and took it briefly, before quickly pulling her hand away. "Hello," she said. "What do you want?" I could actually hear a faint undercurrent of tension to her voice. No doubt this was not the first time she had been approached by a cape…

"Nothing much," I said. "I read your interview in the Brockton Splash— that you were studying fashion design?"

"Oh?" She was still guarded, but her voice became slightly more relaxed. "I'd think you were looking for costume work, but I can see you don't need it."

"It's funny you mention that— I'm afraid the artist I worked with in the past is no longer available. I'm a tinker, and I can make things, but… they do not always look as good as they function."

"You're looking for someone to collaborate with." The tension was completely gone at this point.

"Yes," I said. "I have quite a bit of money to work with, and can get any material you care to name. I know you aren't a tinker, but with what you're doing, you know nobody cares. I think we could make great things. Money, of course, and obviously there's something to be said for known figures wearing your designs..."

"I'm… interested, but I don't even know if you made your costume," she said carefully. "I've never heard of you…"

"I understand. Here's a card— feel free to look my thread up. There's a number of reviews there. Call the number if you're interested." I offered her a card formed from carbon nanotubing, weaved in the same manner as cloth, with the text fused onto it. I saw it flex oddly in her hand.

"I will. If that's all…"

"Yes, thank you for your time," I said, stepping back.

If my understanding was correct, Parian wouldn't respond well to pressure. The ball was in her court now.

— — —

[Routing cellular communication from contact: Lisa.]

"Henry I need help right no—" A burst of static filled the line. " —crazy bomber bitch Bakuda—" A sharp pop, static.

"—black hole—"

[Connection lost.]

"...Stupid girl."

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