What's this? Another Worm fic? Yeah, I know, I'm supposed to be working on something like A New Dawn or Libera te Tutemet, but this story has been languishing as an idea bounced between myself and several people I work with, then suddenly, something clicked and it gained a boatload of traction really fast. So, yeah, I'm probably gonna be doing a lot of juggling going forward. But this one is going to be a wild one just like Libera te Tutemet.
A Study in Scarlet
Elegy 1.1
The rain had just begun to abate on what had already started as a miserable day in Brockton Bay as a trio of SUVs approached city hall. To many of the citizens of the city, nothing seemed out of place at the scene. That was until they came to a stop in front of the building and the doors on both the lead and trailing vehicles opened up, disgorging men and women dressed in well-tailored business suits, their eyes obscured in sunglasses. To the discerning eye, it was evident they were all armed, and with their eyes scanning their surroundings, it was clear that they were willing to use their weaponry if they felt the need.
It was as they finished setting up a cordon that one of the women moved to the middle vehicle and opened the rear passenger door, in her hand an open umbrella that she held over the exit for the occupant within.
Out of the vehicle stepped another woman.
At first glance, she was an incongruity in the sea of people that provided her escort. Younger, just reaching the age where the awkwardness of teenagedness died a rapid death to the full bloom of adulthood. Her blatantly expensive black three-piece business skirt with black stockings and inch-high heels highlighted her femininity while also providing the sharp edge of professionalism, all partly shrouded by the open double-breasted overcoat all but screamed 'military' draped over her shoulders. In her hand was a leather briefcase.
It was why when all this was taken in, the level of effort put into her appearance, that one could be excused for being taken aback when they took one look at her face.
From the middle of her forehead all the way up into her hairline, down the right side of her face, and descending down her neck and underneath her clothing, was the telltale scarring of someone who had been terribly, horribly burned.. To those with a weaker constitution those scars would likely be stomach turning, but to the young woman seemed to carry it not as some sort of blemish but as a badge of honor. Her flinty eyes scanning all over in front of her, jade flecks taking in not only the front of the city hall, but also those that have noticed her and their reactions, yet any reaction she had to them was privy only to herself.
Accepting the umbrella, she rolled her neck slightly, letting her waist-length brown hair get caught in the light wind that was brought by the rain, before striding forward, a quartet of her escorts falling into a defensive position around her, matching her pace for pace.
It was this quintet that walked through the doors of City Hall, moving through the x-ray machines with only a moment's delay for her accompaniment to provide the credentials for the weapons they were carrying that set off the tinker-tech made devices.
Soon they reached their destination, the door providing no pause as half the escort broke off and positioned themselves outside the door of the mayor's office, while the other two followed the woman in., eyes following her as she strode through the various work areas that made up the mayor's office until they reached the last door, only guarded by the secretary.
"Can I help you," the secretary asked, a slight tremor in her voice at the visage before her.
"Irene Adler," the woman stated, producing a business card with a stylized spider resting within a web and holding it out to the secretary, "Demeter Solutions. I'm Mayor Christner's eleven-thirty."
"Oh," the secretary blinked, looking over the card, obviously trying to reconcile the two conflicting images before her. After all, who would expect a young and physically scarred woman to be the CEO of a company that was a rising star in the Fortune 500? She then shook herself out of her fugue, obviously realizing what she needed to do. "Of course, let me see if the Mayor is ready to see you."
She then got to her feet, went to the door, opened it and stepped in.
A few moments later, the door opened, and out came the secretary, but behind her were a pair of men, one younger and the other older.
"Miss Adler," greeted Roy Christner, as he came up to her, holding out a hand, "it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Roy Christner."
"Mayor Christner," Irene greeted, shaking his outstretched hand with her free hand.
Extricating his hand, he then turned to the younger man, "And this is my son, Rory."
The more solidly built young man held out his hand, "Miss Adler."
"Mister Christner."
Pleasantries exchanged, Roy looked to his son, "I'll see you tonight at dinner?"
"Count on it. Just don't wait for me if I'm running a bit late."
A flash of irritation crossed the Mayor's face before it was gone, "They work you ragged, son."
"You know how it is."
"I'll let your mother know."
With that Rory left, leaving the two of them, and Roy stared after him before remembering where he was, "Ah, yes, Miss Adler, if you'll follow me. I'd ask that your men remain behind."
"Certainly, Mayor," she replied, before following after the older man as they entered into his office, the doors closing behind them.
Irene took a moment to glance over the mayor's office, taking note that it wasn't luxuriously outfitted, but it was done well enough to be that balance between expressing the status of the man, but homely enough to cause people to relax.
Finding herself a luxury leather chair in front of the man's desk, she placed herself in it, placing her suitcase on the floor beside her, she tastefully crossed her legs as she allowed the mayor to putter back to his side of the desk and place himself in it.
"So how can I help you, Miss Adler. Your secretary was rather mum on the details on why you would wish to meet with me."
"The lack of details was deliberate, Mayor Christener."
"Please, call me Roy."
"Only if you would call me Irene."
"Well bargained and done."
A small smile flickered across her face before it slipped back into neutrality, "I wished to talk to you about the Boat Graveyard."
The Mayor, no, Roy, sat there staring at her, obviously thinking that she was jesting, but when no punchline was forthcoming, he released a sigh.
"Why would Demeter Solution have an interest in the Boat Graveyard, Miss Adler"
Noting the shifting back to more formal titles, Irene did nothing more than answer his question,
"Isn't it obvious, Mayor Christner? Before the emergence of Leviathan, the Port District of Brockton Bay, as a satellite of the Port of Boston, was bringing in almost two hundred and thirty million dollars per annum in shipping alone, this excludes the various other economic impetus brought in by the jobs. Yet in the nearly four years since the Endbringer went silent no effort has been put into clearing out the bay and reopening it."
Roy didn't say anything for a moment, before he slowly got to his feet, turning and walking over to the windows, looking out in the direction of where the Bay would be.
"Do you know the history of the bay," he finally asked after what seemed like an eternity.
"I won't claim that I know much beyond enough to be pertinent to the subject matter," Irene responded, lightly tapping her fingers on her knee, "though it's more of an overview with key bullet points than anything truly in-depth."
"Then you don't know about Danny Hebert?"
Irene's eyes narrowed, "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."
"When those idiots sank the Boston Corona, they punched the final nail in the coffin of this city. Leviathan was already slowly killing us, but blocking off the bay finished the job. After that the city just lost hope."
He sighed, "It always came down to money. What point was it to spend millions on a dead industry? Course that didn't stop a few from trying to fix it. One of those was Danny Hebert, the head of the local Dockworker's Union and a stubborn bastard. I lost count at the number of times he floated some sort of plan or idea to try and rejuvenate the docks. Shot down every time, of course. But he didn't quit."
"What happened to him?"
"Local Nazi's firebombed his house. Killed him and his daughter five years ago. Empire had a vested interest in the dock area and when Danny didn't get with the program they decided to silence him." Christner paused and quietly sighed. "Was a tragedy that shocked quite a few people, myself included."
"There was a large push to do something about that, started by the Dockworkers in their memory, but it fizzled out pretty quickly after the local gangs decided to have a full on war on the docks. All that's left there now are broken dreams and ashes with a body count to match."
He turned back and slowly returned back to his seat, allowing another sigh to escape his lips.
"The reason no one has done anything to the docks is because people have accepted it, either consciously or unconsciously, that there's no going back, Miss Adler. No one wants to spend the thirty-eight million to clean it up and the hundred and twenty-three million to rebuild it from the ground up. And no one certainly wants to be in the crosshairs of the gangs who are quite happy with the status quo."
It hung in the air between the two of them, before it was finally broken as Irene uncrossed her legs, and opened up her suitcase, retrieving a manila folder and placing it on the desk.
"What is this," Christner asked, placing his hand upon the folder, meeting Irene's gaze.
"This a notice of intent," she replied, recrossing her legs as Roy opened the folder and began to read, "Demeter Solutions has been contracted to reopen and restore the Port of Brockton Bay and its facilities by the federal government. With the disappearance of the Endbringers, it is the determination of the various policymakers in DC that it is high time that Brockton Bay get dragged out of its malaise and get back to working order."
"Why I haven't heard anything about this," Roy muttered, flipped through the documents, eyes flitting over the typed wording, even as his brow creased deeper and deeper.
"That is because the final announcement will not take place until next week," came her response, "as you are aware of what my company specializes in, you know that the path to this decision is a bit more nontraditional than what is the usual."
"Contractual usage of capes and their abilities, along with other services," Roy answered, closing the folder, staring at her, "This isn't a joke. You're actually doing this."
"Phase One has already been greenlit. Demeter has contracted out the services of two parahumans to clear out the bay within a week after the announcement. Phase Two will require the services of six capes to clear away the warehouses and facilities. Phase Three will require the utilization of another twelve capes with supporting staff to construct the prefabricated facilities and warehouses that will be the initial design of the new port facilities. Phase Four will be the finalization and rebuilding of the rail network, which will be handled by contractors hired largely from the local workforce with specialists brought in from Boston and New York."
Her elbows came to a rest on her knees, steepling her hands..
"Projected timeline between Phase One and Four will be five months. Phase Four's completion will require another eight months factoring in possible bottlenecks in the materials, production, and workforce. Total projected cost for the project is one hundred and ten million dollars, with a margin of error of eight point six million."
Again it fell silent between the two of them, as Roy Christner grasped exactly what had just been said. Slowly, as if some balloon had slowly been aired out, he leaned back into his chair, staring at the woman across from him.
"What about the gangs," he finally asked, his pallid expression.
It was only now that Irene allowed herself to smile, and it could only be described as predatory to the point of a bit of bloodthirstiness leaked through her mask.
"If they want to play stupid games, Mayor Christner, then they can win stupid prizes. I have no problem adding them to our list of successes, though I doubt they will be much more than a footnote."
Roy's face paled, knowing exactly what Irene was referring to. It had been four years since Demeter Solutions had first broken onto the scene by eliminating Nilbog and the Ellisburg infestation. Since then, Demeter had been involved in the elimination of several S-Ranked and Exclusion Zones, usually with lethal force backed by both the American and Canadian governments. Heartbreaker, the Fallen, and the Machine Army were but a few feathers in their blood-soaked cap. The only reason that the Slaughterhouse Nine had not been part of that gallery of achievements had been because they had met their demise over half a year before Ellisburg through circumstances no one truly knew, the only evidence of their passing having been their heads delivered in nine separate boxes to the Protectorate Headquarters in Washington DC with a bank account and routing number. It had been an especially memorable event, due to the size of the reinforced crate needed to contain Crawler's massive head.
Suffice to say, much to Christner's disgust, he found himself pitying the likes of Lung and Kaiser; if they did choose to challenge Demeter, he had no doubt in his mind that they would find just how little Demeter and by extension, Miss Adler, cared about the rule of law. The Elite had found that out the hard way on the West Coast when Bastard Son had tried to interfere with a contract.
No, they would find out that she did not play games.
And for the first time in a long while, on the subject of the Bay, Roy could honestly say that he felt hope. Here, right on his desk, was not only a plan, but one that was already in motion. It may be dry in its numbers and goals, but what it meant was that it was the first step in reviving a city that had been on the decline for far too long.
The restoration of the docks would bring back not only jobs but families with those jobs, along with business and tax revenue hardly seen since the advent of Leviathan. He could already see the criminals finding themselves driven back with all of the fresh work and fresh cash, provided that the criminal element was kept from getting a foothold. The mayor couldn't help but suspect that between Demeter and what would undoubtedly be a strongly insistent push by Washington to shore up law enforcement in and around Brockton Bay, it would be almost a certainty that any attempts would falter and ultimately fail.
All at the hands of the woman before him. Oh, he knew there was an ulterior motive to all of this, and there was likely some way for her to profit herself for how much she was lowballing the federal government, but if she was as straight-shooting as the last four years had proven, then he had no doubt that what she was promising was what she was going to provide.
"Do you drink, Irene? Because I think this needs a celebratory toast."
She smiled, recognizing the gesture in returning back to her name, "Unfortunately, I will be unable to take you up on that, Roy. I have a meeting with Max Anders in the next hour, and while I would certainly entertain a drink with you, I do not believe it would be professional to imbibe on company time, even if I am the CEO."
"Bah," he dismissed her thoughts, "I think Max would understand with the news you have given me."
"Regardless, Roy, I must respectfully decline. However, I will offer a consolation drink with you at the Forsberg Gala if you'll take a rain check. After all, I think it would only be proper to toast to your reelection campaign announcement."
He stared at her again, before chuckling, "I won't even ask how you know that, but I think I'll take you up on that, Irene."
ASiS
The door closed on the SUV as Irene settled into the luxurious leather seats, her head leaning back slightly as she closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts as the vehicle began to go into motion. Her eyes then opened, and she opened a door that was installed to the side console, extricating a finely wrapped cigarillo from the humidor.
Slowly unwrapping it with the practice of a professional, she proceeded to cut it before placing it in her lips, closing her eyes as she let herself luxuriate in the taste of aged vanilla with a hint of cinnamon on her lips as it relaxed her.
The clink of metal on metal caused her to open her eyes, as a flame was held in front of her. Leaning forward, she placed the tip of the cigar within the flame, slowly rolling it as she puffed it. Her mission accomplished, and the delectable implement lit, she leaned back once again, breathing in but holding the created smoke within her mouth, before slowly letting it out after removing the cigarillo from her mouth.
She took the time to look at the woman sitting across from her as she flicked her wrist to close the Zippo lighter that had lit her cigarillo. Even in the dim light wrought by the tint of the windows, there was no way to miss the curly brown hair, the freckles, or the lips of the woman who had become not only a close friend and confidante, but something more.
"So," Amelia Lavere, the woman formerly known to the world as Panacea, asked, "I'm gathering it went well, Taylor?"
Irene Adler slowly smiled, even as her hair slowly morphed and changed, becoming darker and less straight, and her jade eyes gave way to brown.
"Yeah," Taylor Hebert intoned, her voice rough with melancholy, but it was not enough to take away her look of satisfaction, "It went rather well."