Chapter 9-Interlude 2
As a military man, Thomas Calvert always had an appreciation for the martial arts. There was a certain beauty in watching a smaller and seemingly weaker fighter overwhelm a much stronger opponent through wits and skill. Maybe it came from being little more than a squishy normal at the end of the day.
"Remember balance, youngling. Not just yours, but mine as well." The parahuman known as Red told her current pupil, Vista. "I am not invincible."
"Like it matters." The girl panted in response. "You're bigger than me. Stronger too. Normally, I'd be hitting you with a taser or running away. No way I can beat you with my hands."
"Not true." The older woman insisted. "My strength and size are only an advantage if you can't turn it against me. You're faster and more agile than you think. Use that."
The girl growled, but attacked anyway. The young Ward feinted, forcing Red into a position where she couldn't evade the kick towards her knees. The older hero went down. "Very good." She said, before grabbing the girl with her legs and forcing her to the ground. "But don't get cocky. Always watch your surroundings."
Vista smiled and got off the ground. "Thanks, Red." She said, before taking off to the shower room.
Red grabbed a wet towel and rubbed her face with it. She noticed Calvert, sitting in the bleachers and sat down beside him.
"You were holding back." Calvert said, plainly.
The woman snorted in response. "Of course. For all her power, she is still a small girl. If I didn't hold back, I would have broken her in half. While pain may be a useful lesson, severe injury is not. I would be a poor teacher if I did not recognize that fact."
"And you're going to teach all of them? The Wards, I mean?"
"Why not? I have little better to do and these children need to be able to fight. To be diplomatic, their current training regimen is somewhat inadequate, in my opinion." Translation: the Wards have no idea how to fight because Piggot considered training to be 'frivolous'.
Calvert couldn't help but frown. "There are plenty of people who might object to that. Teaching children how to fight has always been a hotly debated topic." A powerful, combat-capable Wards team brought attention from both sides of the law. The wrong kind of attention, in most cases.
"And yet, no one objects to sending them into battle, even against monsters than can annihilate entire cities. Idiots." She sighed and leaned back against the wall. "The only thing that sending untrained soldiers to war will accomplish is making the local undertakers rich. These children have…endeared themselves to me and I would prefer they did not die pointlessly."
"A few martial arts pointers won't do much."
"It's still better than nothing. Hopefully, I'll be able to convince Director Renick to let me do more."
"I see." Calvert said, slowly. "I'm afraid I have to leave. Sadly, I have an appointment with the Chief Director to keep."
"Of course." Red simply nodded and went on her way.
The conversation had been…revealing, if nothing else, Calvert mused as he made his way to his appointment. Red was integrating better than he'd expected. Most likely, recent events have accelerated things, but still…
He hadn't predicted this would happen. Neither did his pet, for that matter. For all intents and purposes, someone like Red should have been a lost cause. Tortured for God knows how long by a man who was psychotic even by his standards and with a power like hers, she should have been sent on a one-way trip to a parahuman asylum, or possibly even the Birdcage if that wasn't enough. Instead, she bounced back almost completely. Eager to help and emotionally a lot more stable than the average cape, Red would almost certainly be inducted into the Protectorate.
What irked him the most is that he could have prevented it. If he'd spread the right lies early enough, if he'd leaked the right information fast enough, he could have alienated the strange woman from the superheroes, or even forced her over the edge. If he'd been a little less careful…
That phrase had been on his mind a lot lately. If he'd been less careful, he could have driven have driven Red away from the Protectorate. If he'd been less careful, he could have forced the Undersiders to reach out to Banshee before she'd joined the Wards and became such a thorn in his side. If he'd been less careful, he could have had both of them killed, turned, or imprisoned and just be done with it.
But he hadn't. He hadn't because those two things did something to his power. Every time he tried to use it near them, one of his timelines would always unravel. Things would look like a dream for a few minutes, before the timeline stopped making sense and collapsed completely, leaving him with a horrifying migraine and the other timeline. Worse, he couldn't seem to choose which of the two would collapse. All he knew was that one of them did and as Murphy's law would have it, it would inevitably be the one he wanted to keep.
The first time it happened wasn't that much of a problem: the night of Lung's defeat turned out reasonably well. In the other timeline, the one where he told the Undersiders to attack instead of wait, the last he heard before the collapse was Tattletale's frantic phone call, telling him that they were being picked off one by one by an unknown cape. He had simply assumed it was a fluke at the time. The second time, however, the glitch in his power cost him dearly. During the bank robbery, he manage to lose Tattletale. The girl, who probably knew most, if not all, of his secrets and could destroy him in minutes, ended up in PRT custody and joined the probationary Wards program. The girl, who hated his guts and who would betray him the moment she'd think she could get away with it, was now almost completely beyond his reach. After all, one doesn't simply make a Ward disappear, especially a valuable Thinker like the newly-minted Insight.
Now, the balance of power in Brockton Bay was completely disrupted and the Undersiders were only half as effective as they once were. All because his power failed him at the wrong time.
It was frustrating, to say the least. As much as he hated to admit it, he had become dependent on his power and couldn't afford having it fail at a critical moment. Sure, it only happened if he directly crossed paths with one of them while using his power, but it was a risk he couldn't afford to take. For the first time in years, Calvert felt vulnerable again and he didn't like it. His pet helped, but even she couldn't see them directly. He needed to get rid of the interference before he lost everything.
At first, it seemed like the new Ward known as Banshee was the cause: she was the only thing the timeline collapse events had in common. A young girl who was, in many ways, the perfect soldier: skilled, versatile, deadly, and almost impossible to kill. Unfortunately, she had a crippling character flaw: she was completely dedicated to being a hero. Money, she didn't seem to care about. Power or influence, even less. Even going after her family when the girl wasn't around ended badly, as Calvert found out the hard way. Banshee was like Miss Militia, in a way. Worse, actually, since the elder heroine had the decency of being so blinded by loyalty that she couldn't see that her ideals had betrayed her a long time ago. Taylor Hebert did not have that problem. If Tattletale ever told her the truth, she might actually believe it and act on the information. A risk he couldn't take.
He was about to move in and remove the girl permanently, when he realized the timeline collapse events started to increase in number, in a way that had nothing to do with Banshee's actions. Moreover, his warehouses, strongpoints, and outposts started getting raided. Not just his, but that of other gangs as well. Empire, Merchants, Corpus…the attackers didn't seem to discriminate. Always the same MO too: Everyone killed to the last, the bodies stripped bare, and the place looted to the bedrock. No camera evidence was ever found and no witnesses left alive. Whoever was doing this had to be terrifyingly powerful and no one knew who they were or what they were after.
No one. Not even his pet. Every time he asked her a question directly pertaining to the mystery attackers, the girl started screaming about shadows and holes before collapsing in tears. His doctor told him in no uncertain terms that if he kept this up, his pet would suffer a fatal aneurism. For once, Calvert took his advice and rephrased his questions. It seemed to work for now and his pet could still answer with a good degree of accuracy, but it was only a stop-gap measure. The migraines were getting worse and when she died, he'd lose the most valuable resource he had. With his pet at death's door and his own power crippled, it'd only be a matter of time before Coil would meet his end.
Calvert needed a new plan. He couldn't afford to be blindsided like this. The Coil identity might be beyond saving, but he had invested too much into this city to give it all up because of a few unlucky breaks. He simply moved onto his contingency plan: use his underworld connections to shore up his position in the PRT and make himself too valuable to touch.
Which is what brought him here, with Costa-Brown and Armsmaster, after inserting himself into a PRT taskforce charged with the unenviable task of dealing with the newest member in Brockton Bay's lunatic gallery: Alad and the Corpus.
"Gentlemen, I find myself in a rather curious position." The chief director started. "On my left is a stack of cooperation agreements and contracts regarding Tinkertech. On my right, I have the paperwork for a kill-order, waiting for my signature. What makes this situation so unusual is that they concern the same person and that I have no idea which one deserves my attention more." She sighed, making her displeasure with the situation very clear."Let's start with the kill-order. Armsmaster?"
"With respect, Director, I think my reasoning should be obvious." The Tinker curtly replied. "Alad and his gang unleashed Outbreak on the city. Thanks to him, over three-thousand people are dead or worse, including one of my Wards, along with property damage rivaling an Endbringer attack. Even before that, Alad abducted and experimented on Kid Win, killed PRT officers, and makes liberal use of memory altering technology to mind-rape his people into obedience. He is simply too unstable and too dangerous to be allowed to live."
Costa-Brown sighed again. "I do not like signing kill-orders. Not out of sympathy for the villain in question, but because once a kill-order is signed, the target has no reason to hold back anymore. Quite frankly, given his demonstrated capabilities thus far, I don't think I want to know what Alad is really capable off if we drive him into a corner."
"Director, that shouldn't be a reason to go easy on him."
"It shouldn't, but it is. Let's face it, Armsmaster, even if I sign this thing, there is no guarantee that we'll be able to take that lunatic down before he unleashes an even greater catastrophe. I don't think I should give this my signature until you are in a position to actually carry it out."
"The local villains know what he did. What kind of message does it send if let that maniac get away with what he did?"
"String Theory never got a kill-order, in spite of holding the world hostage with a planet killer. Nilbog is sitting comfortably in Ellisburg because killing him is too dangerous. Lung demolished your entire Protectorate and was left alone until some lucky greenhorn took him down. As much as I hate to say it, Alad wouldn't be the first monster we've allowed to run free. I'm not willing to sign a kill-order that we can't execute, not when there are other options."
"Those other options being: buying his equipment and making him even harder to take down when the time comes." Armsmaster spat out.
Calvert cleared his throat. "Don't take this the wrong way, but working with him is the least of a long list of evils."
"I am well aware of the PRT's policy on rogue and villainous Tinkers. I also won't deny that I'd rather have a powerful Tinker on our side than fighting against us." Armsmaster grudgingly admitted. "However, this man can't be trusted. He has no respect for any rules or laws and it's only a matter of time before he stabs us in the back."
"You have to understand your enemy before you can fight him, Armsmaster. You of all people should understand that." A jab, but a necessary one. Calvert wanted the Tinker to be off his game. After all, people are more easily manipulated when they're emotional. "I have met the man several times now and I've come to the conclusion that he simply doesn't see the world the way the rest of us do. In Alad's world view, there's no such thing as a true legal system. Laws are nothing more than agreements between people and are only enforced when it's convenient. In his mind, the acquisition of wealth and knowledge is the highest virtue and because of that, his insanity is not only predictable, but also manageable. All we have to do is present ourselves as a better business partner."
"Can we arrange some sort of exclusivity clause? Make sure that he sells his technology to us and only us?" Costa-Brown asked. "Better yet, can we find his suppliers? Our think-tanks are convinced that the Corpus are too productive not to be middlemen of some other, larger organization."
"Probably not on both accounts." Calvert added, doing his best to sound remorseful. "While I can make sure that we get the best equipment, my taskforce simply doesn't have the resources to buy up everything. However, if we make it worth his while, we could 'persuade' him to limit his sales to less savory parties. As for the suppliers: if they even exist, the Corpus are the only ones who know how to communicate with them and Alad knows this. I can try to investigate the matter, but I don't think we'll be able to find anything. Moreover, Alad will not appreciate it if we try to cut him out of his business."
The director frowned, apparently unhappy with the answer. "We could use the threat of a kill-order as a stick. Force him into compliance, somehow. It's been done before."
"That probably won't work." Calvert replied. "Not on someone who's convinced we're out to kill him anyway. In fact, when I told him about kill-orders, he was legitimately surprised that an agency like our own needed to ask for permission before it could murder someone. I believe that where he comes from, assassinations are relatively common, or even expected. A kill-order just doesn't carry much weight."
"That explains much." Costa-Brown said, grimly.
"The good news is that he doesn't hold a grudge against us for disrupting his operations. In his words: 'profit numbs the feeling'. In short, I think that while we can't fully control him, we can at least influence his operations and benefit from his mass-producible Tinker-tech until it can be reverse engineered. It beats the alternative, in my professional opinion. He will sell his wares to someone. That might as well be us."
"Which is all fine until the public finds out we've been buying from a mass-murderer." Armsmaster insisted.
"They won't find out. Even if they do…at the rate we're going, I'll have enough equipment to outfit an entire special forces division with Tinkertech in a matter of months, quadrupling their effectiveness in the field. Once Dragon reverse engineers their power-suits, we'll have an elite strike force that can fight mid-tier parahumans on equal terms. I cannot understate the value of such a force, both in terms of capture rates, but also in terms of public morale. Provided Mr. Calvert can keep that man from drawing too much attention to himself, I believe that our current arrangement can be mutually beneficial."
"With respect, Director, I don't think it's worth the risk. We don't need him."
"No, Armsmaster, we do. You've seen the projections: barring a major game-changer or a miracle, the United States and by extension the Protectorate will cease to exist as functioning entities in less than eighteen years. We cannot allow that to happen, or there's a good chance the entire human race dies with us. We need to buy time and we can't afford to be picky anymore. If I have to work with a monster to save this country, then so be it. It would hardly be the worst secret this organization has ever kept."
Armsmaster frowned. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something, but eventually he backed down.
"Very well, then. Calvert, you and your taskforce will keep me appraised of any developments. Work with our Tinkers and milk that man for all he's worth. At the same time, I want you to map out the Corpus organization. Find out where Alad's hiding and where he's getting his supplies from. The moment he outlives his usefulness, we'll take him out."
And thus the Director's true plan was revealed: placate the monster until we don't need it anymore. Calvert could appreciate the pragmatism. "Yes, Ma'm. What should I do if our business arrangement becomes public knowledge?"
"Don't let it happen. There's a reason we hired an independent consultant for this." With that, the connection was cut.
"This meeting was pointless." Armsmaster said. To whom, Calvert didn't know. "The Director had already made up her mind before it even started. She never intended to sign the kill-order." The Tinker turned to him and said: "Mass-producible laser-guns may be useful, but unless they can kill an Endbringer, they aren't the game-changer we need. There's no way Costa-Brown would allow a maniac like that run free if that's all he can give us. No, there's something else. Something you're not telling me." The hero paced, thinking. "Banshee and Red. Dragon and I have theorized that Alad created them somehow, but that's not just a theory, is it?"
Clever. Too clever. Calvert had hoped this would have gone over the man's head and that the Tinker would simply follow orders like he always did, but apparently Armsmaster isn't as socially inept as he'd originally thought. He might have to ensure that the man dies heroically, at some point.
Calvert corrected his suit, met the Tinker's gaze and said: "Like most Tinkers, Alad is working on a lot of projects. The majority never bear fruit."
"And yet, Banshee and Red exist. They came from somewhere, Calvert. The mysterious suppliers?"
"Maybe, maybe not. I can't say." Alad had been immensely tight-lipped about the entire subject. The only thing Calvert knew for sure is that these living weapons, or Warframes as the Corpus insisted on calling them, were supposed to be his magnum opus. Some sort of holy grail of Tinkertech. One day, he would make dozens, if not hundreds of perfect Thinker-disrupting soldiers, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder.
Needless to say, Calvert was going to do everything in his power to make sure he never succeeded and was now in the best position to make it so.
"Can't or won't?"
Damn. Armsmaster really was a lot more observant than he thought. "Let me put it this way: if there was a Tinker in Brockton Bay who could create powers, what do you think would happen to the city?"
"Overrun by foreign infiltrators trying to get their hands on him, if not outright invaded." The Tinker admitted.
"Then I'm sure you'll forgive me for staying silent on the matter." Calvert took the moment of silence between them as a chance to walk away. The longer he stayed in the presence of the Tinker's infamous lie detector, the higher the chance he'd say the wrong thing and have his house of cards collapse right on top of him.
He drove back home and used his power. In one, he kept driving. In the other, he pulled out a burner phone from the glove compartment. "Mr. Pitter, how is my pet?"
"Bad but stable, sir. For now, that is. We're going to have to stop feeding her 'candy' or it'll kill her."
"Yes, yes. Put her on the phone."
A moment later, a girl's voice came through. "H-H-Hello?"
"Hello, pet. I have two questions."
"O-One. One's all I…all I…"
Calvert sighed. Even after a month, his pet still thought she had a say in this. When would she ever learn? He'd have to break her again sometime. The pointless negotiating was getting annoying. "Two questions, and then you can have your candy. First, to two decimal places: Chance that Chief Director Costa-Brown will interfere in my plans within the next six months?"
"Zero point seven three." The girl stammered. "Please…"
"One more: Chance that I'll die in the next six months, to two decimal places?"
"I can't…I…"
"Answer the question, pet." He growled.
"Five point eight one. Please…" Suddenly, the girl dropped the phone and Calvert could hear shouting on the other end. Damn, he pushed her too far again. He collapsed the second timeline and kept driving while musing on his derailed plans.
Alad V could never be allowed to succeed. Half a dozen warframes left him nearly blind and crippled. If there were hundreds of them…
No. He wouldn't let that happen, even if he had to strangle that maniac with his bare hands.