A Wizard In Alexandria's Court

by Perfect Lionheart

Many people have correctly said much about how dark and hopeless an environment Worm is. But for a serious D&D player, it is simply Tuesday. So no use panicking. Of course, there is that little complication about starting out as a 1st level commoner...

8. Chapter 8

A Wizard In Alexandria's Court

Chapter Eight

Outsmarting The Empire

by Skysaber

OoOoO

Story Day Six, April 11th 2011, Monday - Mid-Morning

OoOoO

"Jared-Darling?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, dear?" he replied automatically.

She was in a curious mood, and cocked her head accordingly as she asked the question. "Sunday, after winning your bet with Lisa, you disappeared underwater. Where did you go?"

He smiled, pleased someone noticed. "I have some safehouses underwater that I have been developing for nearly a week. I went there."

"Oh," she replied. Still curious, she then asked, "When will we get to see them?"

Since this conversation had not happened in privacy, they had by now drawn the attention of all present.

He thought about it for a moment. "I'll have to pump the water out of them first."

There was some surprise over this statement.

"How can you visit them if they don't have any air?" Dinah was the first to ask.

"Weeell," he drawled out happily, sprawling himself into a couch, arms spread wide over the back of it. "Have you ever played Freeze Tag?"

Dinah nodded, while Missy asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

Jared let her question slide, seeing as how it was going to answer itself in a moment. Instead, he stayed focused on Dinah. "And when you played, you picked some 'safe' zone, where the person who was 'it' couldn't go, correct?"

Dinah nodded again.

Jared then answered both their questions. "Having someplace to go where others can't follow is mind bogglingly useful, even outside of childrens' games. The number of capes who can operate underwater is so low that, statistically, it approaches zero. Having a base that you have to be able to breathe water to enter means almost no one can follow. That makes it a lot easier to keep it secret."

Now Missy was really curious. "But I know the Protectorate keeps tabs on the Bay with sonar. And construction is noisy, especially underwater. How did you keep anything a secret from that?"

"That was the easy part." He grinned. "I have a spell called Machine Invisibility, which among other things renders me undetectable to sonar. So all I had to do was swim up to all of the sonar detectors in the Bay, the Protectorate only maintains a couple (its expensive getting things to operate in that mess), and build boxes around them, then pump out all of the water, leaving them in vacuum. Vacuum transmits no noise, so their sensors are completely deafened, and they don't even know it."

"How do you know that they don't know?" Vista asked, slipping into professional mode again. "They fake lots of things."

Jared acknowledged the point. "Because of the boat graveyard, sonar signals in the Bay have a ton of what they call 'noise', false or useless signals that get bounced off and around the old wrecks and sunken hulls, creating echoes that rebound and create more echoes, just like shouting into a cave would. So there are a ton of useless data, and just messy returns that, in the end, everybody just uses computers to filter out. So since you can be certain those sonar returns are going through a computer before anybody listens to them anyway, ask yourself which is more efficient, having a dedicated team of highly trained - and thus highly paid, sonar operators listening to that feed around the clock, when most of the time there will be nothing useful for them to listen for, or do you just program the computer to alert you to anything unusual?"

Jared grinned. "Now recall, the Rig is Protectorate property, and the head of the local Protectorate is an efficiency Tinker."

"... and Tinkers like and trust machines. Got it." Lisa nodded. "Armsmaster would have seen to it that things got done efficiently, even if he did not do anything Tinkertech with it. So it's all computerized."

He nodded. "And those computers have a list of signals they are to alert him to, if they overhear. That's the efficient way. The sonar returns change with the seasons, water temperature, and with each coming in and going out of the tide, so they can't just alert him to any changes because they would be alerting him all of the time. Even the garbage shifting in the water flows creates whole new signals. No, he has his sonar listening for certain types of signal returns that may mean danger, you can be sure of it. That's the only efficient way to run things. But he made a city-boy mistake, one those raised in the woods always know."

"What's that?" Nearly everybody asked all at once.

"It's that silence can be one of the most dangerous things you can hear," he answered.

They all paused, considering that bit of wisdom.

"The best part about this method," Jared reported, "is that his machines won't even tell him there is a problem. All of his sensors are still there. All of the self-diagnostics are running fine. System checks will reveal that everything is fully functional. They're not even completely deaf, they are still hearing a little, a tiny little bit transmitted through the ground, and the cable they are attached to, because that cable still passes through the water. So they won't even report they are hearing nothing. It's just what they're hearing won't be useful. They are not seismic sensors meant to interpret signals that come through the ground. They are sonar. To them, stuff that comes through the ground, or vibrations of their cable, are just noise to be filtered out. So they will report that they are still detecting and filtering out noise. But the chance of that sonar net to actually hear anything useful approaches zero."

Jared grinned. "I even used Mending cantrips on all of his sonar detectors before I boxed them in, to ensure they were all in tip-top condition, to arrange for the longest time before anything needs maintenance again. So, since all of his parts are sending off 'all is well' signals, it should be years before he notices a thing."

They all laughed.

Then Taylor asked the question. "So, you can breathe water?"

"Absolutely!" he agreed. "You each will too, once we reach that point in your augmentations. Like I said, it is a mind-bogglingly useful ability, to be able to go where others cannot easily follow." Here his eyes grew sly. "And it is even more useful when others do not know you can go there safely. One of the Rules is: The Best Place To Hide Is Always In The Mind Of Your Opponent. In other words, if they can't imagine looking for you someplace, that's the best place to be if you don't want to be found. And unless you let it be known that you can breathe water, why would anyone bother looking for you underwater?"

"So you are thinking this should be one of our group's secrets?" Lisa inquired.

"Yes," he replied.

She shrugged, calling, "All in favor?" and looking around, while raising her own hand.

Everyone had a hand in the air.

"So carried," she replied.

"So when do we get to breathe water?" Dinah asked eagerly, as it sounded like a great place to avoid Coil.

"In time," he smiled. "It gives best results if it comes after certain other things. In fact, most of the special abilities I plan to grant you are something like that, so it's best if they all come in a certain order. Don't worry. I won't rush it, but you won't miss out on anything, either."

He glanced around, seeing them all around and needing something else to occupy their attention for the moment, he declared, "You know, there is something you can all do that would hurry along the next step. Anyone interested?"

They all were, and said as much.

He smiled, and stood up. Crossing over to the den's desk, he took out a slip of paper and wrote something on it, then handed the pad off to Lisa. "Alright, I need all of you to go shopping. You need clothes, toiletries, computers, personal electronics, decorations for your rooms, everything."

Cheers and a flurry of activity followed that statement.

OoOoO

On the drive down to town, in another large V8 van, with Jared driving; Lisa, who had been quietly computing on her laptop, suddenly called out, "Well, that's funny."

"What is?" Dinah and Missy both looked up from what they'd been doing, curious.

Eyes still on her screen, and a smile rapidly forming on her face, Lisa answered, "I've just been observing the PRT's weekly meeting, using their own microphones, cameras and security system to do so, and they are demanding that Shadow Stalker turn over all of the money she stole from the ABB."

"But she didn't steal any... oh, that *is* funny." Taylor grinned. It was not a nice or a friendly grin. It was the grin of long-awaited justice received.

A 'finally, bad things were happening to my tormentors', kind of grin.

A summation of events got quickly made for Vista, that just as quickly got her giggling in glee.

"Yeah." Lisa concluded, "and it gets better. The PRT have only an incomplete idea of how much was stolen, but still they are demanding that Stalker turn over hundreds of millions of dollars that she doesn't have. We do. They promised to return 2% to her, after she turned it all over to them for some bureaucratic reasons they'd failed to mention. But they're liars. She'd be lucky to get a quarter of one percent back if she did have the money and did turn it over. And what's even funnier? After Shadow Stalker stormed out of that meeting, and Piggot got hauled off on a medical cart, it got revealed that Armsmaster is getting a higher percentage of that money than Stalker, even if they had planned to keep their word. They've already budgeted for 10% of her plunder to get added to his Tinker budget for this year."

After typing for several more seconds, she smirked. "And he's already spending it. Wow. That's not cheap."

"What isn't?"

Eyes on the screen, the foxy Thinker supplied, "The Protectorate has a resource Tinker in Texas going by Granholme. She produces crystal chips which provide a huge boost to processing - and of course the supply can never match the demand, so her prices are insane, even for those who pass the screening tests for actually needing them, already belong to the Protectorate or Guild, and are important enough to get a place on her waiting list. Dragon buys most of her supply. Now Armsmaster has placed an official order for several complete sets. Wow! It looks like he's planning on upgrading all of the computers in his laboratory with them, as well as building himself a complete new set of field gear; new halberd, armor, motorcycle, the works."

Vista frowned. That seemed wasteful when he already had all of that. She knew Tinker budgets were limited. Kid Win complained about his all of the time. Not to mention that everything they made had to get approved first before anyone could use it in the field. "Why wouldn't he just upgrade the equipment he already has?"

Lisa took a bite out of a sandwich she had prepared for herself, for snacking on while hacking. "Because he is adding more than just those crystal chips. He's placed several orders, covering most of the resource Tinkers the Protectorate has. Looks like all twenty million he was projected to receive is going to get spent today. Right now, even. At that point, adding that many parts he's faced with doing a complete rebuild anyway, and building all new gear is not too different in scope. Besides, if he tears apart the equipment he is using to add the parts to upgrade them, he is out of action until those modifications are complete. Plus, it can be useful to a Tinker to have a complete set of older gear around as a backup, just in case something should happen to the stuff they are currently using. It's a very efficient way to keep yourself active if something should break, or gets battle damaged. It looks like Armsmaster is planning to go that route."

"Cool." Eyes still on the leafy tunnel of a road he was driving down, Jared decided on something. "You know he'll want a tracking number, so he'll know when to expect them. Can you get hold of that, along with the shipping route and method?"

"Sure. Why?" Lisa looked up from her work to ask. "Ten to one it'll be one of Dragon's suits doing the delivery. Those two are close, and she frequently handles orders like this anyway."

Jared's return grin was not nice. "Dragon's suits do not concern me. All they are is machines, and machines are easy to stop in any number of ways. You get me that route. I want to steal those chips, and the other Tinker supplies, if possible."

"Why?" A number of people asked all at once.

Jared snorted. "Mostly to blame it on Coil, of course. Can't give that man too many headaches, after all. And if Armsmaster has a personal grudge against Coil, it can only be good for us. And though he doesn't know it yet, Armsmaster can't pay for any of this, as Shadow Stalker doesn't have the money they plan to take from her to fuel his budget increase. Now, it would tear that Tinker apart to be forced to return twenty million worth of shiny new materials once he learns that he cannot afford them. But it will go even worse for him if they get stolen and he *cannot* return them!"

The wizard's smile was fierce. "That will leave him twenty million in debt with no shiny toys to show for it - the worst of both worlds. Now imagine the grudge he will bear against Coil for causing this upset. In fact just to make sure he learns about it, let's propagate a story, after the fact, saying Coil hired the Dragonslayers to do the actual interception, then sell those chips on the black market in Coil's name. Letting the underworld get involved in a bidding war over this only means more people know about it, and it will harder be to sweep it all under the rug. With good luck, it should break out as a full-blown scandal. Should get all of our enemies mad, hopefully at each other."

Lisa began excitedly typing, "I can't wait to see how that snake-themed bastard tries to escape blame for this."

OoOoO

Story Day Six, April 11th 2011, Monday - Early Afternoon

OoOoO

The V8 van pulled up in a shopping center, one that did not particularly cater to the things his girls were out to buy that day, and Jared got out in his Rick persona, leaving the keys inside, where Rachel slid over into the driver's seat, waved to him, then drove off. Thankfully, they were all in disguise, as most of them now had identities that would cause a stir if they got recognized out in public. But having just spent several very productive hours doing research at government buildings, now they had a different set of errands to run.

The girls had a long day of shopping ahead of them, and he had other things to do. Ironically, part of that was shopping, just for different things than lingerie.

'Rick' had just started towards a particular shop he'd wanted to check out before he got brought up short when someone called out.

"You."

Jared stopped on his way into the Alamo, a combination pawn shop and gun store, to look over at the blonde high school girl hanging out with her friends at the nearby little cafe, who'd addressed him.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Can I help you?"

The sneering girl got up and walked towards him with the sort of confidence you only saw in the popular crowd or hardened delinquents. "You were at the Northeast Beer Hall Friday, delivering casks. You promised to return Saturday with more. Why didn't you?"

Jared snorted. "I take it you've never seen the price they were willing to pay. Here's the slip of paper where the bartender assessed their worth - for the six casks they didn't pay for." He pulled out the little slip and showed it to her. She took it into her hand and read those figures in mild disbelief.

The boy gave a disparaging flick of his fingers towards the receipt. "At those prices it's not worth the wear on my truck hauling it in to town. No more booze where that came from. The supplier has decided to distill it down into fuel for his farm machinery. It's not worth his time or mine to try to sell it as liquor, so we might as well get some use out of it."

She glanced up at his face in some mild horror, then took out her phone. "I've got to call this in, wait a moment."

She dialed and Jared took a moment to look around. It was a decent little outdoor shopping center in a fairly nice neighborhood. It was April, so the trees and everything were just really starting to get green. It was a pretty time. He'd been on his way into a store that Lisa assured him sometimes sold firearms to underage kids much like himself, and he'd been intending to pick up a set so he and his team could go shooting, to help settle in Uber's skill on firearms, once they'd learned it.

But she'd also warned him that this particular store was an Empire front for all kinds of shady and mildly illegal activity. So it paid to be polite to any blond people in that area who showed more confidence than would otherwise be warranted.

"Here," she shoved her phone at him. "Repeat what you just told me."

Jared took her phone and did so. Then the voice told him to hand the phone back to Tammi, who he presumed was the girl, and did so. She read the numbers from that list into the phone again, finished with "Got it, alright," then hung up.

Straightening up, she turned her attention on him. "Okay, what are you here for?"

"Guns," he answered simply. "About a half a dozen of us want to do some deer hunting out in the mountains, plus some target shooting with both pistols and rifles, shotguns as well. No ordinary dealer would touch me until I was twenty-one, but someone told me this place might look the other way, so I was going to look over what they had."

The blonde girl, Tammi, took him by the arm and hauled him inside. "Come on, we'll set you up."

On the other end of the phone line, Victor hung up, then took the pad of paper where he'd written the prices he'd been told, turned and confronted the bartender. "Rune just informed me these are the prices you quoted for what you were willing to pay for that kid's casks. Are these accurate?"

Terrified to contradict one of the Empire's capes, and those prices were accurate, so the faux-viking bartender gave a little nod.

Victor angrily cast the list down at his feet, snarling, "You couldn't buy PISS at those prices! The wooden casks themselves are worth more empty! What made you think that you could get away with cheating a dealer out of top-shelf liquor for that pittance? Now he tells me his supplier is boiling it down into tractor fuel! And who can blame him? Now, here is what's going to happen. I gave Rune orders to keep him around until I get there. He and I are going to broker a nice little agreement, and you are going to treat that kid as the valuable resource he is from now on, you hear me?"

Terrified, the faux-viking nodded.

Snatching up his keys, Victor stormed out of the still-too-early-to-open bar.

OoOoO

Once they were inside of the shop, the girl Tammi went back to playing on her phone, so Jared realized it was all on him to carry things from here, and slipped a little more into his 'Rick' persona.

Approaching the man behind the counter, he asked, "Do you have any Sig Saeur pistols?"

Turning to face him, the clerk, a man in his mid-fifties and wearing a checkered shirt told him, "Nah, they're made in Germany. We're all out. Anything else you want to see?"

The boy scanned the merchandise, and saw a Franchi SPAS-12 shotgun on the display rack spanning the entire wall behind the counter. "The 12 gauge autoloader."

While bringing it down for him to examine, the clerk told him, "That's Italian, and could go pump or auto."

Smiling at the inside joke that the clerk apparently shared, 'Rick' looked down into the glass display case serving as a counter, and to his surprise saw an appropriate pick. "The 45 longslide, with laser sighting."

The clerk brought it out without so much as a twitch of humor. "Those are brand new, we just got that in. That's a good gun. Just touch the trigger, the beam comes on, and you put the red dot where you want the bullet to go. You can't miss." A pause. "Anything else?"

On a fit of whimsy, Rick inquired for something he knew they did not have, "Phased plasma rifle, in the 40 watt range."

"Ah." Now the clerk broke out into a tired grin. "What you want is the Terminator package. They're all bundled together, there by the front door. We offer the classic Terminator package, that has the shotgun, the Uzi, and the .45, 'cause that's what most people notice. Only as you can see for the .45 we go with the original Colt 1911 longslide instead of the AMT knockoff they used in the movie - and the laser sight was a one-of custom model they don't produce for sale. So ours is a Surefire laser sight. Same company, so as authentic as it gets. We also offer the Full Terminator package, that adds the extra guns obtained at the gun store and seen in use by the Terminator, but not mentioned by name, so you get the nickle-plated Smith & Wesson Model 15 six-shot revolver, and the AR-180, along with the optional conversion kits to the AR and the Uzi, but those are illegal, so we can't tell you about that."

Actually impressed, and a little on the back foot, Rick asked, "That's great, but what about my phased plasma rifle?"

The clerk scratched behind one ear. "We don't stock tinkertech, but what we have got is an overpowered laser sight. Thing actually uses 40 watts, eighty times more powerful than most laser pointers, will pop kids balloons like nobody's business and set paper on fire in a moment, but you've got to hold it awhile for it to hurt anything else, produced by a company called Phased Plasma. Put that on the AR or the Uzi, either way you've got the closest thing to a phased plasma rifle that human tech can make."

Rick paused and thought for a moment. "How many of the full Terminator packages do you carry?"

"Over a dozen. Why?" Now the clerk seemed genuinely interested.

"Do you offer a bulk discount?" Rick was verging into a smug smile.

"What do you mean, kid?" The clerk was now acting a little guarded. Nice customers don't do smug. Idiots about to do something stupid like draw a firearm looked smug. His hand edged closer to his own concealed carry.

Rick shrugged, feeling happy. "Well, I've got a lot of family living up in the hills, and they're all Terminator fans. I tell them you've got the guns, and you'll have to buy a couple hundred more sets. Because they'll be down to buy them."

The clerk glanced at the girl, then pulled out a sheaf of forms. "I'll get to ordering, then."

Tammi turned to face Rick, exasperated. "I thought you were going deer hunting." She was apparently one of those chicks that had a particular dislike of being lied to, and who now suspected him of having done so.

"I can't be a Terminator fan?" He asked, in wide-eyed innocence. "We'll also need some other guns, of course. Those deer won't hunt themselves. More's the pity."

"That much ordering, we'll want a down payment, kid," the clerk spoke up from where he was face down with a pen working on forms.

"Well, what would you consider to be adequate?" Rick returned calmly.

The clerk's voice came up from where he was facing the forms. "Price is $6,500 for the full set including the conversion kits and 40 watt laser sight." He looked up to face Rick directly, pointing with the pen for emphasis. "If you want two hundred sets, I won't take anything less than half up front. I just don't want to be stuck with a massive inventory, in case you disappear."

"I'm am not hearing any discount on that." Rick mentioned politely.

The clerk glanced up and aside towards the girl, "10% off any order of ten or more sets."

Now Rick smiled. "I'll order them ten at a time, then. I'll do the paper boy thing and go run around my relatives, collecting orders, and be back when I have the money. Sound fair?"

"But you are sure you'll be buying ten?" the clerk confirmed, cautious.

"At least. Like I said, I expect a couple of hundred." Rick nodded, speaking earnestly this time.

"Were you going to buy a deer rifle, or weren't you?" Tammi asked, a little annoyed over the endless tangent about trivia from some movie she'd never seen.

"Well, the AR-180 can do that," Rick offered, by way of a totally inadequate apology.

"That's true," the store clerk pointed out. "But most people prefer something bolt action, for the accuracy."

Rick nodded, "Plus there are bears in the woods, and the 5.56 from the AR-180 is just inadequate for that. What have you got in a beefy caliber, such as 30.06? Or 7mm Remington magnum?"

"You know your weapons, pal. Here, let me show you what we've got." The middle-aged clerk abandoned the forms to show his customer a new gun.

"What? No .458 win mag?" Tammi snarked, staring down at her phone.

"No, because we're not hunting elephants," he replied easily.

"What about .375 H&H mag?" she continued.

"No, because we're not hunting moose," Rick calmly replied. "Mostly just deer hunting and home defense. Although moose are a problem, so yes, I'd like to see something in those. Thank you for the good idea. We'll let the nice clerk sort out what he has available to show us."

She turned to face him, doubt filling her features. "You really expect me to believe you're buying a SPAS-12 for home defense?"

"We do live up where the bears are." He told her with a grin. "A 12 gauge solid slug to the hip will at least break its pelvis and slow it down enough so that we can run away. But I'm glad you suggested the .375 H&H mag and .458 win mag. Those will actually be able to kill them."

"So what do you need two pistols for?" she challenged.

"Main use and backup. Strap one to your ankle, the other to your hip."

"Ankle and hip for home defense?" her challenge did not let up.

Rick calmed down and abandoned humor, briefly shrugging. "In that case, one on your nightstand, the other near the front door. So they are more likely to be nearby in the event of an unexpected emergency, and really, aren't all emergencies unexpected? Basically the same reasoning as having multiple fire extinguishers located in different parts of your house. Actually, we are going to need some .22s for plinking with. I won't consider anyone a marksman until they've fired a few thousand rounds down the target range. And say what you like about it, but .22 ammo is cheap. Best to get all of those beginner mistakes worked out on the cheap ammo."

The clerk was bringing down a new rifle. "Used to be cheaper than dirt until the shipping crisis hit and the supply chain fell apart. Here kid, a Remington 742 in 30.06, ideal for deer hunting, and with a little luck, maybe even take down a bear."

OoOoO

Victor, in his civilian guise, pulled up in a shiny new BMW outside of the Alamo. Meeting the eyes of the local kids on watch duty outside of the cafe, he received a nod, acknowledging that his car would be looked out for. Then, he straightened his suit and walked into the gun store.

Rune was inside, also in civilian dress, nearby the door, both waiting for him and ensuring the kid he wanted to talk to did not get away before Victor had a chance to meet him. He gave her a small nod of approval over this.

Approaching her, he asked very softly, "So, how does it go?"

"He's buying tons of those full Terminator sets." Tammi answered sourly.

"Oh? How many?" the newcomer asked curiously.

"Over two hundred, he said. Claims he's got a lot of relatives, who are all Terminator fans," she sneered.

"And there are bears up there," Jared agreed sagely, having overheard. "They're already eating us. Might be nice to eat them, for a change."

"Indeed," the newcomer smiled, leaving Rune's side to focus on the young man, "Well, perhaps we can come to an arrangement. We rather liked your liquors. What do you say we trade you one full Terminator kit per 30 gallon cask?"

Jared produced an order form, holding it out to him. "First tell me how many casks, of what type you want. I'll tell you if we can fill it. Not all liquors have the same price, after all."

Finding a convenient surface nearby, Victor rather hungrily filled out an ambitious list of wines, ales, scotch, and so on for the bar. Since international trade had begun drying up, made worse by Leviathan destroying so many port cities, it had been hard to get any decent product from Europe. In point of fact, with so many disruptions, and so little competition, it was hard to even get much volume shipped across from California. Too many other buyers competing for what supply there was made even mediocre wines a hot commodity.

You just did not see much top-shelf product available for sale anywhere, at any price. So it was with considerable eagerness that he made out a substantial order.

Jared looked it over. "I can't provide the brand names. But you tasted the product, and if it suits you, we can come to an arrangement. Where do I pull the trucks up to? That's rather a lot to store in the back of one bar."

Victor looked over at the store clerk, and commanded, "Order the guns he wants."

"And I'll buy one more of the full Terminator sets for Tammi, as a commission for rejuvenating the deal, as it was dead until she stepped in." Rick generously offered.

Victor then smiled at Rune. "Indeed. I'll make sure she practices with it."

The girl lost her sneer and blanched. She'd fired a twelve-gauge shotgun once, at her fifteenth birthday party, and it had left her shoulder bruised for weeks!

Now, most of a year later, she was not any more eager to repeat that experience.

"Cool!" Rick enthused, apparently not noticing her reaction, just like the teenage gun-nut he was. "Hey, maybe she'll be able to come shooting with me and my friends sometime?"

"I'll guarantee it," Victor smiled, thinking he'd do more than that for the wines on offer. Tammi had attracted an admirer, had she? Well, if the kid wanted to date her, not even Kaiser would tell him 'no' at this point. And if they got serious, and that drew the boy into the Empire, so much the better.

Victor was even of a mind to encourage exactly that.

"Great!" Rick enthused. "Now, these are only so much scrap metal without ammo. Let's talk ammo."

OoOoO

Rick had called his 'Uncle Jeb', who'd come down with the stake bed truck filled with new casks and been greeted with an enthusiastic handshake by Lex, the name Victor had been using, as they'd been introduced.

They were all walking out of the gun store, Rick and Jeb carrying duffel bags filled with a full Terminator set each, plus firearm accessories like holsters and whatnot they were carrying out to their truck. One duffel each was just full of ammo. Lex and Tammi stood near his BMW, ready to guide them to the warehouse waiting to receive them, as Lex had already called ahead.

Placing his duffels behind the front seats, Rick smiled over at their escort. "Well, that was fun. Thanks to both of you. Hey, would either of you know of a place where I can go to set up odds and take bets?"

Victor gave a superior smile. "I am afraid that gambling is one of those business all tied up by the gangs in this town. No room for independents."

Rick shrugged. "Ok. So where do I go to place bets? I want to get in on the action for which cape is going to defeat Lung next."

Victor looked at him strangely. "Why would you do that? Nobody is taking odds on that, Lung is undefeatable."

Rick gave him a measuring stare. "Undefeatable, huh? That sounds like about... a thousand to one odds, to me."

Victor only had to consider that a moment. "Alright."

Rick nodded sharply. "I'll take those odds. You have authority to negotiate, I don't care who you represent, we've already cut one deal, now accept another. I'm willing to place ten thousand at thousand to one odds that Lung gets defeated by a cape already based out of Brockton Bay in the next two weeks."

Victor was appraising the young man. "Do you have that kind of cash?"

Rick shrugged. "I restore classic cars. It's what I do for a living. One just sold. Yeah, I have that kind of cash." He took out a substantial stack of bills. "I was going to spend this on guns, but we cut another deal. So, you interested?"

Victor folded his arms. "Interesting. So, young man, let's hear this plan of yours. Why is Lung going down so inevitable?"

Rick just shook his head. "Nuh uh. No way, no how. If people think it's impossible, I get long odds. If they think it's easy, I'd be lucky to get my own back."

Jared, under his Rick persona, felt something tickle one of his defensive measures. Aha! Someone was trying to use a power to figure out something about him. He cast a quickened spell to allow him to usurp control over what that effect was telling its originator. Hmm, someone wanted to know what skills he had? Well, Jared sent back information of a teen boy who was far more certain of himself than he had any right to be, with some minor but believable skills, yet nothing special.

The probe cut off moments later.

Victor had been seriously considering the boy being some sort of confidence trickster. So he'd used his power, and was only disappointed in what he'd found. Just another cocky kid with money burning a hole in his pockets, determined to make it rich quick taking chances anyone with experience avoided like the plague.

In other words, a prime sucker.

The phrase, 'taking candy from a baby', was coined for ignorant young kids like this.

Victor plastered a very good fake smile over his face while reaching for the money. "Why sure, I'd take that bet."

Rick held up a finger while taking a step back, putting the money out of reach. "One second." He pulled out a smartphone and dialed a number that Lisa had given him.

"Numberman," came the almost toneless answer after the first ring.

"Hi, Rick Belmont. I don't have an account with you yet. But I wish to establish one and register a bet of ten thousand dollars at a thousand to one odds, that Lung gets defeated by a Brockton Bay cape sometime within the next two weeks."

"Against?" Numberman's voice stayed toneless, businesslike in the extreme.

Rick simply handed the phone over to Victor, who took it, and demanded "Who is this?" only to find himself a bit startled at the answer. Not that he had not done business with the Numberman himself before, both on his own behalf, as well as that of the Empire. But who was this kid to have access to Numberman's service?

Having quickly confirmed this was the actual Numberman, a surge of caution filled the Empire cape, and he held his hand over the phone's mic to call out to Rick, "Hey! I can't give you a thousand to one odds for just any Brockton Bay cape. Pick one."

Rick smiled, filled with confidence. "Rune."

Tammi jerked as if slapped. "You're betting on Rune?"

Rick nodded. "It's in the bag."

"You know she's faced him before, right?" she asked. "For two nights in a row he's been attacking Empire turf! If it was easy to defeat him, don't you think they would have by now?"

Rick slipped an arm around Tammi's shoulders and led her a few steps away from where Victor was talking on the phone with the Numberman, taking her to the other side of the truck, where they could still be seen, sort of, but it was very hard to hear over the rumble of the engine running. "I tell you, she can't lose!" he exulted quietly. "How much do you know about her?"

Tammi looked him over suspiciously. "Not much," she lied.

Rick only nodded more eagerly. "Ok, Rune is a telekinetic. Now powers don't get more useful than that. What's more, she can lift objects that weigh several tons each. One of her established tricks is to ride around on a flying chunk of concrete that she obviously ripped out of the ground with her power. For that to be the case, she's got a lot more power than just the ability to lift a multi-ton block. Ripping it clear of the concrete connected to it takes at least as much force again as simply lifting the weight, as does moving it around at a useful speed with any kind of maneuverability. So we are talking some serious applied force here."

"But how does that help her? Lung just regenerates any damage she causes!" Tammi demanded.

Rick scoffed. "No one ever defeated Lung by hitting him. Big chunks of rock aren't going to help, here. No, what she's got to do... now you promise you won't spoil my bet here? I'm trusting you. 'Cause if this gets out, everyone will know that Rune can take Lung on, and the odds will plummet."

"I promise. Now tell me!" Tammi demanded, fists clenched down by her sides as she bounced a little on the balls of her feet.

He smiled. "It's so simple, I am surprised she hasn't figured it out yet. Lung has already been defeated twice in the last few days. How did Vista and Alexandria do it? By dunking him in the water. So picture Rune flying along. One of the things she's animated is a great big hunk of anchor chain, something wrist-thick that Lung even at his strongest isn't going to tear through easily. Now she flies up, outside of his reach and with a great multi-ton block of stone to shield her from any fire that he tries to throw her way, wraps that anchor chain around his ankle, yanks him up in the air by it, and while he is upside-down hissing like a scalded cat she just calmly flies him out over the bay, then has her chain haul him all of the way down to the bottom, and secures it there. She then flies away, looking like a boss and as cool as you please."

Tammi looked dumbstruck. A rare smile began to creep its way across her features as she pictured it.

Rick continued, "Have the chain connect on the bottom to something nice and oversize, say sixteen tons. He *might* be able to lift that at his strongest, but he'll never swim with it. For extra style points, have Kaiser make and sink a big anchor that has embossed on the side 'SS Lung, sunk on' then have it give today's date, just so Lung reading that while drowning on the bottom can know how owned he was."

The smile creeping across Tammi's face grew bigger, and excitement began to fill her eyes.

Rick continued talking. "Lung may get tall, but he stays thin, which makes sense as he eventually grows wings, and weight is your enemy when flying. So even at his biggest, Rune has enough force to haul him around. Of course, the tricky part is connecting the chain, first to him, then to the anchor, because she doesn't want to stick around. Continual use of a power gives him a continuing conflict, and that just makes him bigger," Rick allowed. "No, something like a handcuff would be ideal, where you just slap it on him and it secures itself automatically. Then Lung can discover that burning his own pants off means he has no pockets for storing lockpicks in, and even though a baby could pick a handcuff normally, he can't just using fingers or claws. You need tools for that job. But while I have no doubts that Kaiser could make a set of Lung-cuffs out of several inches thick of steel, enough to do the job and then some, it would almost be classier if Rune just used a rusted bit of old anchor chain scrounged from a wreck somewhere. She could also TK a big nut and bolt to stick through the chain links and screw it closed around Lung's ankle to fasten it, then scrape the threads on the bolt so he can't just twist it off again, doing the whole thing with scrap just to prove that she needed no one's help to take down the big lizard."

Tammi's grin had grown electric, and she was bouncing in place in her excitement.

Rick shrugged. "Now I have to find her email address, to notify her of my plan. Because the sooner she learns how, the sooner she can conscript a few low level Empire thugs and spend a day chasing their legs around an empty warehouse with lengths of chain. I don't imagine she needs it, but a little practice will make it look that much more effortless when she does it to Lung."

"Here!" she blurted, writing an address down quickly on a scrap of paper. "She and I are penpals. Bye!"

Tammi bolted, racing over to where Victor had just finished up on the phone to Numberman, concluding their business, and snatching it from him, spoke quickly, "Numberman? Yeah, Tammi Herren. You have my account information. Same bet as Rick Belmont, same odds, Rune to defeat Lung before two weeks are out. Yes, ten thousand at thousand to one odds. I've got enough if you take all of my savings and checking, then throw in some of the college fund. Yes, I know I'll forfeit this year's interest to date, throw it in anyway!"

She rather rudely tossed the phone back to Victor, who caught it effortlessly despite his confusion, and without saying another word ran out towards a car in the parking lot, where some of her friends were still waiting.

Victor looked to Rick, who just shrugged in confusion.

Victor handed back the phone. Rick listened to a moment of instructions, agreed, then handed his cash over to Victor, who took it and counted it rapidly but surely, then gave an acknowledgment into the phone, whereupon Numberman transferred ten thousand from the Empire accounts to a new one for Rick Belmont, then placed it in escrow until the bet was resolved.

Business done, the call ended without even a goodbye.

Rick and his uncle let Victor guide them to the warehouse they'd be making deliveries at soon after, but not before Tammi's ride had roared out of the lot, carrying teenagers in a hurry.

OoOoO

Jared remained in the truck with his first flesh golem, 'Uncle Jeb', just long enough to learn where the warehouse was that this guy wanted the liquor delivered, so he could find it again. Then he excused himself while the warehouse crew were unloading the truck, slipped away and teleported.

He appeared underwater, out in the bay.

This was far from an unusual set of circumstances. Every day he'd been in Brockton Bay so far, he'd found opportunity to slip away several times a day, for a handful of minutes each time, in order to check on ongoing projects.

That very first day he'd arrived, the very first thing he'd done, other than find a suitable underwater location to set up as his first safehouse, had been to build a Dedicated Wright, a type of humonculus that serves its creator by spending its time creating magic items for him, using its creator's own skills and abilities.

After creating the first one, the very next thing he had done was for himself and his first Dedicated Wright to each build an extra Dedicated Wright. So before he had emerged from the water on the beach on that morning he'd first met Taylor, there had been three Dedicated Wrights at work underwater behind him.

Then, since you can only make one magic item per day, per the normal rules, the first Dedicated Wright had exhausted its ability to make any more magic on that day, so had gone to work doing purely mundane crafting to expand and improve that underwater safehouse.

However, the second and third Dedicated Wrights, being newly created themselves, had not exhausted their magic item crafting ability, so had immediately set to work creating the fourth and fifth Dedicated Wrights. Upon their completion, the second and third went and joined the first at its labor, while the newly created two went on to create another two.

By the end of that day, there had been seven Dedicated Wrights at work underwater, and, at the stroke of midnight, each of them had instantly set aside any other work they had been doing to start work upon another Dedicated Wright apiece, which made more Dedicated Wrights when they were completed, and so on.

At each stage, Jared had to teleport in to give the necessary instructions and sandshape some gemstones. But Sunday, after the end of five days of continuous self-multiplication, he had five hundred and sixty Dedicated Wright homunculi, which was just beginning to feel like enough. At the stroke of midnight last night, he had switched their tasks from self-replication to other useful pursuits.

Since homunculi were constructs, and constructs are basically magic robots without biological needs, like, oh, say, the need to breathe, it mattered not in the least to these creatures that they were underwater. In fact, Jared had not been able to resist the temptation, and his default homunculi were far from standard, having many upgrades over the usual, and by consequence they functioned rather well underwater.

This was a good thing.

Of course, normally having this many homunculi at once, especially all in one place, was a suicide pact, since their creator took some rather significant damage should any of his homunculi be destroyed. But of course there was a feat that took away that disadvantage, and of course he had it.

He had already diverted a large portion of their efforts away from underwater base construction the previous evening, and had them help him prepare the tissue samples he'd brought down into bodies, raw materials to make more flesh golems out of. Then, since a golem body was just like a masterwork sword in that the base item before magic got added could be prepared by ordinary craft skills (it was adding the magic that required a spellcaster) he'd had them go ahead and fully prepare the golem blanks to be ready for enchantment.

Then he'd realized that all of the tissue samples he'd brought down were male, which would not fit the story he'd been planning on telling of there being entire clans of people living up in those hills above Brockton. So on Monday's use of that same ability he'd managed to include an equal number of female samples.

Now things stood ready for their next step, down there in the dark waters at the bottom of the bay.

Jared swam through the interior of his main underwater base in total darkness. While light was useful and prettier, neither he nor his constructs needed it. Besides, humans grew curious when they saw big shining lights underwater. He'd have to order the base entrances sealed over with something impervious to light before bringing the girls down here, as they would rightfully expect both air and light when they visited.

It was almost a pity to add those things, as the underwater base was so much better a stronghold without them. Anybody could invade when they could see and breathe inside, but it took special equipment for humans to assault a place where they could do neither.

Ah, who was he kidding? If the PRT learned he had a base down here they'd drop depth charges on it, or use torpedoes. They would not bother trying to invade it. So he might as well add seals over all of the entrances, pump out the water, and string up lights, because it was not as useful to him as it could be if none of his teammates could visit it.

The wizard swam into his animation chamber. It surprised him that none of the girls had asked him what happened to the machinery he'd used to create his first flesh golem: Jeb. But it had all been moved down here, sparks and all. Immunity to electricity was easy enough to get, and even easier to build into constructs. So neither he nor the homunculi cared about the electricity danger underwater, in fact it made things even easier.

They did not have to wait for a storm.

The tables were all set up and ready. He'd expected nothing less, his Dedicated Wrights were, well, dedicated. And since they used his own skill, the standards they built to were every bit as exacting as his own. So though what he was about to do was complex and demanded exacting standards, he could be confident that everything was ready.

Of course, paranoia was a survival trait as an adventurer. So he cast an Augury anyway.

Then he frowned when it came up 'No Result'.

Though troublesome, that happened sometimes with that spell. Results were not certain, you had to roll for success. Sometimes it came up that way and told you nothing. Normally on a project this size he'd abort and wait for another day, since casting two Auguries on the same subject returned the same result automatically, unless you waited a day in between.

Still, the Augury was just for final reassurances, that there was no sabotage set up by a sneaky thief from an opposing faction or the like. There really should not be any who was even aware he was here...

Cauldron.

His blood ran chill. While he should not have come up on any of their radars yet, still, they were exactly the sort of people who could, would, had, and did interfere absolutely anywhere and with everyone it suited them.

So he cast another Augury, this time not asking about the success of the spell he was going to cast, but if Cauldron had, aside from that one bet with Numberman, acted to interfere with his life.

This time the result came back as a reassuring 'No', and he breathed the underwater equivalent of a sigh of relief. The worst thing was, he knew at some point, possibly soon, that same question would start to return a 'Yes' answer. He'd have to start making preparations.

But in the meantime, he raised his staff and, drawing upon its energy, released the spell to Create Flesh Golems, suitably metamagiced, of course.

He would start teleporting these new golems, a couple at a time, up to the Belmont estate where they had the tinkertech chair for training skills. He'd give these guys driving and the English language at the very least, then see what he could do about getting some trucks for them to drive so they could make deliveries for him.

After all, he had a LOT of booze to deliver if he was going to achieve his firearm ambitions. He'd set Dedicated Wrights to making more casks as soon as possible for the booze he was going to make to fill them. He'd have to hurry, too, as his plans required him to be at the gun store over the next several hours, 'helping' out with the paperwork, after having cast Charm Person on the store owner.

Hmm, better also plan to teleport some golems near to the factories they'd be ordering from, and arrange some trucks on those ends, so they could pick up the product as soon as the orders were confirmed.

While Jared did not plan to cheat anybody, he wanted to personally massage the supply chain to get those guns, in quantity, before the Empire knew what happened. Because he rather doubted they'd approve of exactly how many he intended to buy.

OoOoO

Director Piggot of the PRT ENE lay on a medical bed inside of the in-house clinic maintained as part of the PRT headquarters building. It saw plenty of use, although frequent calls to Panacea of New Wave prevented medical expenses of this branch from taking in much of the budget, as aside from Piggot's ongoing care, they rarely had a patient more than a few hours.

That made Piggot's private medical problems their primary concern, which was just the way she liked it.

She had her own room in that clinic, set aside for her and not violated even in the direst emergency. This was in addition to the VIP quarters she had assumed as her own, and turned into her primary residence, and totally aside from that tiny apartment she maintained only because it was required of all PRT officials that they maintain an off-base residence.

Not that she ever visited the pig sty. Power and water had even been turned off in that apartment years ago and she had not realized it until the police invaded the place this morning, and it was on their report.

A report that she'd had to beg to receive, and then gotten second-hand and redacted. Redacted! Of all things! Her own apartment, and the police were telling each other things about it they did not deem suitable for her ears!

Her doctors were currently observing her, concerned over the spike in blood pressure and anger, that... stuff, had caused, to say nothing of the fact that she'd inhaled some of it, and they were checking her lungs for any infections, as well as giving her some state-of-the-art antibiotics as a preventative.

Yes, these drugs were usually reserved for more serious cases, not as a just-in-case treatment. But she was important, so she got it.

Besides, with Panacea on call, cutting all of their medical costs down to virtually nothing, they could afford it...

Piggot was just inhaling to shout at whatever nameless subordinate was lurking around this time, ready to receive and relay her orders, when a stream of filthy, brown liquid shot out of the air above her, and caught her right in the face, splashing for a considerable distance and continuing full force over several seconds before it abated.

Piggot's shrieks and howls were almost as loud as the alarms on the medical equipment as she spat and tried to get that stuff out of her mouth.

OoOoO

Assault groaned as he got up off the toilet, flushing without looking at the disgusting mess no doubt inside.

Stress always gave him diarrhea, and this time he'd had it bad. Both the stress, and the... well, the rest. But the stress? He'd been spending his time in forced confinement going over the numbers, and what he saw shocked him.

How could a man tell his wife he'd actually bring home more money if he quit his job and lived on welfare?

There was no use trying to transfer to the police. Heck, even a minimum wage job flipping burgers would pay more. But those were both off the table. As had been explained to him, at length, on several different occasions, only Federal agencies could legally employ any parahumans, and of those the PRT got the lion's share.

He did not have a Thinker power, so most other slots were impossible.

That left only the PRT, but the PRT was impossible! He was literally losing money faster than he was making it! Piggot gave him another ten day fine only two days ago! He was literally paying for the privilege of working here! At this rate the last of his savings would disappear in... two months!

Ow! And there went his gut again. Assault grabbed a magazine and went back to deal with the problem.

Moments later, Piggot was getting squirted in the face again, to the alarm of the medical professions who had to deal with it.

OoOoO

Several Hours Later

OoOoO

Max Anders enjoyed the view from his CEO office in the Medhall building, looking down over Brockton Bay, spread out before him. It almost looked pretty from this angle.

Of course, not all parts of his job were pleasant, particularly not since the man really had what could be considered two full-time careers. One was his public face, as the CEO of a prosperous company. The other, as Kaiser, supervillain leader of the Empire Eighty Eight, inherited from his father, who had founded the organization. Both of them could use, and some would say even deserved his full attention, but neither commanded it.

They couldn't.

On normal days, it was a toss-up to say which job caused him the most problems. But on days like today, when Lung was only two days into nightly rampages that would typically last a week, at least, it was definitely the Empire. The supervillain controlled gang of Neo-Nazis.

Max personally did not share in the racism. But since many in the organization did, he went along since it had proven a useful tool in controlling those that were.

There were too many problems he had to fight already as things were.

The phone rang.

The 'special' phone rang.

Laying aside the reports that he really should be going over, Max answered. "This better be good."

"Max? We've got a problem."

He recognized the voice as that belonging to Victor.

Max rubbed at his eyebrows. "I would presume so if you were calling this line. Alright, let's have it."

"The kid with the casks? I got hold of him. Tammi found him wandering into the Alamo, and held him for me until I got there." Victor's voice informed him over the line.

This actually introduced a bright spot in Max' day, and he glanced over to the wet bar he maintained. There was only half a decanter left of the sample he had been given, but it had swiftly become a favorite. "Sounds like good news, to me. The quality of that product was excellent. I presume you struck up a deal. When are we expecting more of those excellent vintages?"

Victor's voice sounded tired. "Yes, I did make a deal, and they're already delivered. But Max? That's the problem. Kid had an uncanny sense for how much his alcohol was worth, and drove a hard bargain, but he was willing to cut a deal for guns..."

"So cut him the deal for guns. I fail to understand the problem." Max spun about in his chair, turning to face the window again.

Now his friend was sounding strained. "The problem is that I was too over-eager and that kid too good at bargaining. I forgot some classic steps. Yes, the vintages are that good, but in getting access to them I forgot to set upper limits."

"I am failing to see how too many casks of that excellent wine is a problem, Lex." Max stood and looked out over the city again.

He heard a deep sigh from the other end of that line. "Well, I sure hope you are feeling that way tomorrow, Max. Sure, we have a warehouse that he's already delivered some four thousand casks to, checked over by our people and thoroughly verified. But we sold an underaged kid over thirty thousand guns to get it."

Max Anders felt the blood chill in his veins. "Repeat that for me, Lex."

Victor's voice came seriously and soberly over the line, but his words were chilling. "Thirty thousand illegal gun sales, Max. Thirty-five, actually. And eighty percent of them are serious hardware. Kid walked into the shop and fell in love with those Terminator packages, offered to buy a couple hundred of the full sets. Turns out we've got quite a clan of hillbillies living up in those deserted hills outside of town, making liquor, and they're all Terminator fans. So when I offered guns for booze, that's what he went for. Next thing I know I'm getting a call from the warehouse whose address I gave him that they're full and close to overflowing with casks, asking where should they should send the next shipments to. So I call up the gun store and it turns out the kid has been there all day, being helpful, while his relatives drove the trucks in. So helpful not only have the orders already been placed, and paid for, but the product actually picked up on the factory end. We're in trouble, Max."

Max Anders kept cool only through a supreme act of will. He licked his suddenly dry lips. "I fear you rather understate the case. Over thirty thousand undocumented guns... Lex, that's more illegal weapon sales that we usually traffic in a decade. None of our usual methods will be sufficient."

"I know, Max. What do we do? As crippled as the Federal agencies are, their budgets sucked dry to feed the PRT, they're bound to notice something like this. Having to fake paperwork on that volume of firearms? Give it a week and we'll be to be up to our armpits in Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, looking to make their first major bust in years and hoping to look relevant again. We are standing to lose a lot of our legitimate businesses."

Victor was sounding worried.

Max felt rising anger. "Why don't you find that young man, and explain our displeasure to him. We can reconvene after I've had a chance to think over the matter more clearly."

"Sure thing, Max."

The CEO of Medhall hung up the phone and went to his liquor cabinet, pausing to scowl over the crystal decanter of truly excellent wine he had been savoring just a little while ago.

It was with an ill temper that he poured himself another glass.

OoOoO

Jared and his friends, Skysaber's Sirens when in costume, had gathered once again and were all out enjoying playing mini-golf at the last remaining indoor range Brockton had for that, in one of the better neighborhoods in town.

They were all in disguise at the moment, due to the number of people looking for various members of their team. Jared was currently enjoying his Rick persona, as he had not yet developed an alternate that was not a caped ID. But he was planning to look into that, after this evening of playing games.

Although, it had to be said that only a few people were playing at the moment, as over the TVs hung in the ceiling corners of the dining area was Alexandria delivering a broadcast...

"...This transparent attack upon the respectability of this venerated institution shall not be tolerated! We will find and shut down this evildoer and show him he is a small time clown, and that no one can strike out against the leadership of the Parahuman Response Team and get away with it."

The cameras switched from Alexandria to the talking heads discussing her statement, at which point the crowds at the family fun center went back to ignoring them as normal, and the whirs, beeps, and pops of the various arcade games resumed at the normal full intensity.

"Wow, she sounds upset," Rick observed with a joke in his voice. "I wonder what happened?"

"PHO is going mad, speculating about it," Missy, in her disguise, observed from where she was typing on her brand new laptop. "So far I think Piggot being kidnapped and replaced with her good twin is the funniest, her throwing a tantrum over being denied a part in the next muppet movie is the most accurate. And Void Cowboy is out there on the fringes, as always, with his theory about her being trolled by inter-dimensional wizards."

Dinah stopped sipping soda through her straw and giggled, before gathering herself to comment, "Wow! Feel the burn. What does an honest, hard working PRT Director need to do to get some respect out here, anyway?"

Missy met her eyes in a serious stare. "We'll let you know once we find one."

Both girls broke down in giggles.

Rachel and Taylor were both seated in a booth, at either side of Rick, leaning into the currently blond youth and just positively glowing with contentment.

They had what they wanted.

"Has Armsmaster made any comment yet?" Missy asked. "He is the head of the local Protectorate branch, so you'd think..." she trailed off, as she saw Lisa, busily typing away, already shaking her head.

"No," Lisa replied shortly. "He hasn't left his lab all day."

Taylor stirred from her place tucked into Rick's right side. "Wait. I thought Armsmaster was at that meeting."

"Nope," Lisa shook her head again. "He was in his lab the whole time. He finds it more efficient to send a robot double in his place, then to listen and respond over a microphone and earpiece. It gives him an extra dozen Tinkering hours per week on average, some weeks more than twice that."

Taylor thought about it for a second, then decided it did not matter, snuggling back into her chosen's side, contentment awash within her. Before meeting this boy, she'd had nothing. Now she had friends, a boyfriend, a good day shopping, a terribly expensive high end computer, her cape career was advancing by leaps and bounds with all of the skills and training she was receiving, she had lots of support in general, and to top it all off a first folio was waiting in her room for her to return to reading it.

Life, in her experience, simply did not get any better than this.

Under the table, Rick's shoes were off and he was typing rapidly using his toes using a special court stenographer keyboard linked by a cable to a laptop facing him on the table. He was only typing about half as fast as an actual court stenographer, so only about ninety to a hundred words per minute, but it was with his toes, so some credit had to be given there.

His hands were busy with the important business of cuddling girls who needed support and reassurance they were valuable. So his toes were all that was available.

"My, PHO does appear to be losing their collective minds over this, aren't they?" he mused, noting that a certain thread by Doctor Whodunit had been locked within minutes of making it, had only five replies, was on page thirteen of its sub-forum and was fading fast.

He did not stop to read it.

But it did give him an idea.

Pausing to ensure he was using his enchanted hub, and randomizing his connection point a bit, he stopped surfing to make a new thread in the same sub-forum, titling it, "Doctor Whodunit's Amazing Thread of Extreme Awesomeness, Plot #2!"

"Ha Ha! The Protectorate are so concerned about transparency, are they? Well, I will saturate Alexandria's body with Inviso-Black beams! Yes! From now on any attempt by her to wear dark fabric will result in the material turning completely invisible!"

He posted.

A second later, Lisa stopped typing. She turned to glare at him. "Really?"

He smiled in reply. "Bestow Curse, any dark fabric she wears will turn invisible. I'll bet you she changes to a new costume before the day is out."

Lisa sighed and began rubbing her temples. "No bet," she said dryly.

Jared took a moment to extricate himself from the cuddle pile. "Excuse me, I've got to go to the restroom. Back in a bit."

OoOoO

It took only a minute for Jared to get out of sight, teleport, use the Fantastic Device to cast the Bestow Curse using a small tuft of Alexandria's hair he'd included in that morning's ragged backpack (hair from a clogged drain had exactly zero value, and taken from before her body got frozen in a type of stasis-state still worked to curse her current identity. There were a couple dozen targets he maintained potential target tracking on this way) and somewhere out there he could feel the curse take hold.

Excellent.

He would have done it as a Transdimensional Spell if that was needed, but that ability was limited, so he was glad not to have to use it.

He then teleported back into the exact same washroom stall he'd closed himself into twelve seconds before, left it, washed and dried both hands thoroughly, used a fresh paper towel to grab the door handle and tossed it in the garbage while he exited the bathroom...

... only to find Lex, from the gun store, and two adult toughs who looked like cagefighters waiting for him. He could hear another couple of men standing at the entrance to this little side hall, keeping traffic out so they could have this little conflict in privacy.

So it looked like he was being subject to a gang hit.

Now it really was arguably the case that Rule One for combat when you are a wizard involved staying out of reach of the big, tough men and monsters that want to chew on you or beat your face in. Because spellcasting was always so much harder when nasty critters are making like a junkyard dog with you, tearing you to pieces and gobbling down your flesh.

And it may not seem obvious, but had proven true countless times in the past, that the worst monsters were not actual monsters, they were men.

Now, there was a reason Jared had not thrown all of his levels into barbarian, stripped down to a fur loincloth and mask, named himself something like Captain Muscles, and dispensed beatings with his Fists of Justice! The reason was anybody could do that. Brute force was the default. Anybody could understand it, and most importantly everybody knew about its weaknesses and the counters for it. Just staying outside of the pugilist's reach was a big one.

A wizard's entire shtick was built around *avoiding* the kind of strength vs strength, testosterone-driven conflicts that were so popular on TV. He did not get thrown into this hell-world to ask for the powers of WWE.

No, he fought an entirely different way, like the old Bugs Bunny cartoons, he preferred to outwit his foes, or better yet, to get them to defeat each other.

In his case, as with most wizards, as with a sniper, if you were fighting with your fists, that was only because everything else had failed. With wizards, as with snipers, your ideal case is for your enemies to never even know you were there, and in the next most favored scenario, you want them to die as far away from you as possible.

Only your worst case involved them actually being able to fight back against you.

Having no doubt that they could kill him, Jared prepped an ability he hoped not to have to use, then put on a brave face and did his best not to have to use it by trying a different tactic.

"Hey, if we got the order wrong, we'll fix it, free of charge."

The two big, burly men each pinned one of 'Rick's' shoulders to the wall without saying a single word. At their doing so, he almost popped his ability, but withheld it for the moment when his danger sense failed to flare.

He'd know it when they went to hurt him. This was merely an attempt to intimidate.

Ha! Little did they know that player characters are immune to the intimidation skill! That works only on NPCs.

The man he'd pegged as the cape Victor went on quietly cleaning his nails with a very sharp knife for a period of time carefully, yet expertly calculated to be excruciatingly miserable for the person under threat.

Underneath his Rick persona, Jared was using those seconds under threat to cast Mage Armor and Shield using Still Spell and Silent Spell metamagic so there was no outward sign he was spellcasting. Then layering on other combat buffs as the pause grew longer.

The sudden surge of violent action came as expected. It was beautifully done and expertly calculated, Victor in his civilian guise going from seemingly at rest and nonviolent to a sudden lunge across the short distance between them, to bury the knife in the wall next to Jared's ear.

Well, ok, from the single flick of Victor's eyes to check his knife, apparently it had been meant to cut into Rick's ear. Good luck with that when your target has several layers of invisible force field protecting his magical self - and who would have teleported out of there if his danger sense had twigged on to this having been a real attack, rather than just more intimidation.

The words, when they came, were as cold as expected. "This is not about the booze, Belmont. It's about the guns. You abused our trust, and our generosity, ordering far too much to be concealed without even giving us any indication you would be bringing the Feds down on us. This is about payback."

Contrary to Victor's expectations, Rick gave an easy grin. "Hey, if that's all, let me reach for my checkbook. It's right here under my *suicide vest*. You know, the one with the deadman switch, where I release either of the triggers and it goes off?"

As he was talking, with one hand Jared had flipped open his jacket, revealing under it a nightmare of TNT sticks, wires, and blinking lights that all came active as he lifted his other hand and pressed the plunger on the arming trigger before all three men's horrified eyes. Then he watched as the moment of horrified understanding came that he'd said triggers - using the plural, and they saw only the one.

Plans to lunge for control of the arming device he held casually in one hand died in that moment.

God bless Silent Image! His illusionary vest looked exactly like the real thing, too.

Now Jared was going to do what any responsible person in the Worm universe would do in a crisis situation - Blame Coil!

"Now I'm nobody," Rick spread both hands disarmingly, still holding the button down on his illusory arming trigger. "It would be easy for you to kill me, but I'm worthless, so all it would get you is a little satisfaction. But I do have power to negotiate. So let's negotiate. In the first place I'd like to offer you a freebie, just to make up for any hard feelings. It may not look like much at the start, but I think it won't be long before you see its true value, and really appreciate it. The thing is, you've got an enemy, Coil. This is a guy who likes to slide under the radar, all of which you know. What you do not yet know, and my free offering to you, is what this guy's power is: because he is one of the top ten Thinkers in the world, only you did not know it. He likes being underestimated, it lets him get away with more, really gives him space to operate his power, which is this: Coil can run two timelines at once. He experiences both, but actions he takes in one do not affect the other, and at any moment he can drop one to preserve the other, then split again from that point. What this means is he can set up operations and in one timeline give the 'go' order, and in the other hold or abort. If the mission succeeds, he keeps the timeline where it does. If it fails he goes to the other and either tries again with a change of tactics, or aborts. It also means that he can afford to kidnap just about anyone, torture them for information, and drop that timeline, keeping the one where it never happened. Only he remembers BOTH, so whatever information he learned, he keeps. It also means that he has moles in every organization in the Bay, including yours, because if anyone *can* be turned, Coil can try as many times as it takes until he *has* turned them, and you would never know about it because he erases all of his failures. He has been using this to gather information on the civilian identities on all other capes in the Bay."

Near the end of this little speech, Victor was glad he did not wet himself. If what this kid was saying was true, and he obviously believed it, then they had been dealing with the wrong foes, all the while letting a snake in the grass have free reign, allowing it to set up a strike to nut-shot their entire organization.

It was a scary thought.

And, paradoxically, it also explained the kid's suicide vest. Only the ability to blow yourself to kingdom come on demand would neutralize Coil's ability to take you and torture you as he pleased.

You'd need something like that to keep any secrets from that man's power at all, Victor realized.

Not that he ever intended to tell Kaiser that, as he had no intention of wearing one. Ever.

All three men had taken a couple large steps back from the kid, who now took out a slip of paper, put it on a nearby table, and began to write with the hand not holding onto the trigger mechanism, "Now I know this, because a former member of Coil's organization managed to leave, a mole he had in another organization - not yours, and traded what they had on him for safe transport elsewhere, which we were able to provide. As evidence of this claim, I am going to write down the civilian names of Kaiser, which you should already know and be able to immediately verify, and Lung, which you could discretely confirm if so inclined (although I must apologize in advance that I only have one name for him, and do not know if that is personal or family), and finally Coil. Since he is the one whose plan it is to publicly release all the secret IDs of his cape enemies, hoping to use the chaos and confusion to his advantage, I figure he can't complain if you return the favor should he try - which ought to lead to him dropping those timelines where he does."

The boy wrote only a few lines on the piece of paper before folding it over a couple of times, then handing it off to one of the burly men, who then shuffled over to just within reach and received it, then shuffled back to hand off to Victor, who opened it and read silently to himself, 'Max Anders, CEO of Medhall. Kenta, half-Chinese, half-Japanese leader of the ABB. Coil, also known as Thomas Calvert, Senior PRT consultant.'

A chill passed through Victor's spine when he read the first name. The kid, at least, knew Kaiser's civilian name and identity, nor did Victor think a bunch of hillbillies came across that information themselves, which made the kid's already plausible story even more likely - which was frightening, as that meant this information was already in the hands of at least one enemy who was planning to use it!

Frankly, if true that was a disaster worse than the gun store mess. But at least this time they had warning.

The boy waited patiently, giving time for the note to pass, then a moment to process this little revelation, before speaking further, "Now as to the injury we dealt you, we wish to make amends by undoing as much of the damage as possible. In fact, do you have an email address I could send things to?"

At this point, Victor had little doubt sending him one would prove significant, so he did so, one of his burner accounts.

Moments later he got a ping as a file arrived.

"There," Rick smiled. "As our little mole was escaping, they took some ABB files with them on the way out. What you just got is a membership list of most of the ABB. Lung's pimps, his toughs, his recruiters, and officers, but also a good portion of his gang's support network, his back-alley doctors, people who launder money for him, his accountants and so on. Anyone closely affiliated enough to be getting a payout from the gang's coffers. So all of his core people."

Rick gestured with his detonator. "Now it appears to me, that an enterprising individual such as yourself could arrange enough help to fill out all new paperwork regarding those guns, featuring those names, personal information, and addresses. Probably get it all done today, if you put a rush job on it. Now, if you were to do that, I'm certain that you could even spin up a story about how the store owner took however many of his staff you find believable out to celebrate something the other night at some Asian restaurant, and all came down sick with food poisoning. But luckily they were able to hire temporary replacement help to run the store today. And shocker of shockers, in retrospect it was obvious those substitutes were ABB members, who ordered all of those guns, doubtless for the members of their gang.

"Now, should you set it up right, your store owner was feeling better and came in to check up at the end of work today, and found all the evidence that this terrible event had happened. So naturally, he being the upstanding citizen he is, called this in to whatever law enforcement officer you want to get credit for cottoning on to a major bust, and who, being the stalwart upholder of the law they are, put a hold on the delivery of these weapons until the case could be properly looked into. The store owner will then responsibly report they are already under lockup at the warehouse of your choice."

"Now Lung," Rick again gestured with his detonator, "When he discovers his plot to get so many weapons for his gang has hit a snag, will doubtless rage, and go attempt to collect them himself. Naturally this will lead to a fire in that warehouse that will destroy everything he tried to gain."

Rick favored Victor with a level look. "I can't take credit for the plan. It is an adaptation of one of Coil's, who likes to set you two against each other. Although I do recommend that whatever warehouse you select for this, it be one you've kept your fire insurance current on. We still have all of the original shipping crates, boxes, and packing materials those guns arrived in. We could send those to the warehouse of your choice. Now Kaiser makes metal structures intricate enough to serve as armor. That's complex, with fine tolerances. My hat is off to him for fine tuning his ability to that extent. But if he could do that, he should have no trouble making quite a few sets of scrap metal that look like gun parts. I think it doubtful he has tolerances down to the ten-thousandths of an inch you'd need to use them as actual weapons, but as weapons destroyed by a warehouse fire set by Lung? Fires that naturally get hot enough to twist and warp metal anyway?"

Rick stood, arms crossed, leaning against the table. "All this plan requires of you is a bunch of guys doing paperwork, a handful of phone calls, an afternoon's work at most from Kaiser, and then leading Lung to the right warehouse when he makes his attacks on your territory tonight. Then the Feds find all of the guns they want, already destroyed, and get to claim credit for a major bust. All eyes look to the ABB in disapproval for trying a major escalation. They get official attention, and you come off smelling like roses."

He uncrossed his arms and took a few steps to stand before Victor. "You get your booze, we keep our guns, and the ABB gets the blame. Both of us are happy, and your enemy gets shafted. The worst is you are put out the cost of a machine capable of stamping a bunch of serial numbers into gun parts and a rush delivery on it. Finally, if the Feds hold a sack of anvils ready to drop, it lands on the ABB for being such nasty characters as to even try this dastardly scheme of theirs. So, restitution made. Friends?"

Rick extended the hand that did not hold the detonator, out and prepared to shake.

There came a smirk onto Victor's face as he realized that this enabled him to call Max right away and report a solution. While not as simple as the kid made it sound, it was certainly doable. He extended his hand and they shook.

"Friends."

Victor then had to leave. There was a lot to organize, and not too much time to do it in.

On seeing them depart, Jared smiled. Sun Tzu once said "to shatter and destroy it is not so good" and "the best thing of all is to take the enemy's country whole and intact". "Hence to fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting."

This, while not exactly that, was close.

He may not have destroyed any of his enemies with this move, but he had certainly set them against each other. The might of the Empire was going to get turned against Coil, who was not prepared for that kind of heat on top of his woes with the police force and PRT, while the ABB was going to take a major hit or two tonight, getting in trouble with the Feds while at the same time having Rune defeat Lung in combat.

And, with this, the Empire was one more step closer to their own fall, though they did not know it.

While not a perfect victory, he would take it.

Closing his jacket and pocketing his 'detonator', Jared dismissed his illusion and went to rejoin his girls, only to find them out in the parking lot, having already begun changing into costumes in the back of the van that was their current team transport, and arming themselves from the weapons he'd stashed there. They had been planning a rescue mission for him right up until Victor had turned around and walked out, and were now at something of a loss what to do.

He found them adorable.

OoOoO

Alexandria, wearing a white towel wrapped around her middle, rushed through a portal into Cauldron Headquarters, with her regular costume more transparent than plastic wrap upon her body, and the normally dark pants and coat of the business suit she wore as Rebecca Costa-Brown, Chief PRT Director no better as she wore the one and held the other.

In truth, the only thing it appeared she was wearing at all was the towel.

"What is going ON?!" she demanded, full voiced in her desperation. "Everything I try to wear disappears on me!"

"Apparently, your body has been saturated with Inviso-Black beams," Numberman answered her dryly. "Any dark colors you try to wear will turn completely invisible."

"What?" Alexandria stopped her desperate lunge for information and demanded coldly. Her one hand released her suit jacket, which resumed its normal coloration as it fell from her hand to the floor. She then glanced down at the towel she was wearing over her normal heroine outfit.

That towel had been the only thing she could find that would not turn as transparent as air when she put it on. It was white.

"What," this time she demanded menacingly, "the [bleep] is an inviso-black beam, and how do we get rid of it? Who did this? How do we fix it?"

"We don't know." Doctor Mother told her.

"There is no path to 'Find The Source of Inviso-Black Beams'," Contessa added.

"Using all of the computing power available to us, we have found exactly one reference in all of the worlds we traffic on, to the phenomena affecting you," Numberman dryly informed her. "On Earth Bet, in a thread entitled 'Doctor Whodunit's Amazing Thread of Extreme Awesomeness, Plot #2. Wherein the OP states he will saturate your body with Inviso-Black Beams - with the results you have discovered, the complete inability to wear any dark color without instant transparency. That post was made less than one minute before you encountering your difficulty, which proves Inviso-Black Beams travel extremely rapidly, and saturate bodies very quickly."

"That's ridiculous," Alexandria objected, as much by reflex as anything else.

"You're right. There is no such thing. You're imagining the effect. Go ahead and drop the towel," Eidolon sneered at her.

She glared at him in return.

"It is not required for Tinkers to make any sense, only for their inventions to work," Doctor Mother returned. "What I am more concerned about is our inability to track this Doctor Whodunit. This strongly implies he is near the power level of other blind spots in Contessa's Path to Victory."

Other blind spots? That statement set a chill down Alexandria's spine, considering her other blind spots were Eidolon, the Endbringers, as well as Scion himself.

That was a very small group, with some incredible entrance requirements, all of which strongly implied Bad Things.

"We must find him," she breathed.

"Agreed. But first, you need a new outfit."

Alexandria never really forgot anything. But, that said, she could not be simultaneously considering everything she ever knew. So it was with a small jump as she realized that it had been years since she had worn anything other than dark grays or black in either of her identities. Even her underwear was all black!

She could not go clothes shopping wearing just a towel.

In fact, the only thing she knew of that might do was a holdover from Glenn Chambers' one attempt to re-image Alexandria as a child-friendly cape for a program to help encourage kindergartners reading...

"Emergency on the West Coast." Numberman declared dispassionately. "They're calling for Alexandria."

Hmm, go as a nudist, or as a kindergarten cape? Tough question...

After Alexandria had disappeared through another portal, Legend remarked. "What concerns me is the accuracy. If this Doctor Whodunit is based out of Brockton Bay, that's four thousand miles away from where Alexandria was in Los Angeles at the time he hit her. I'm not sure I've got the range to strike at a target that far away, never mind the aiming. To hit her, and no one else, speaks of pinpoint accuracy on a scale simply unheard of."

"Not to mention, in targeting her, specifically, he had to know exactly who and where Alexandria is, as she got struck in her Costa-Brown identity." Eidolon muttered.

OoOoO

Story Day Six, April 11th 2011, Monday - Late Evening

OoOoO

It was at the head of a triumphal parade that Kaiser returned to the empty warehouse the Empire had gathered to before deploying for combat that night, the rest of his capes uninjured around him, everyone in a celebratory mood over the easy victory they had achieved that evening.

The victory party was massive. The music was loud, there were women and wild dancing, there were great platters of food, they even broached a dozen of those new casks of booze, distributing it free to those who had showed up to fight that day.

It was cheap for the enthusiasm and loyalty it bought, plus it served as a great advertisement for the Empire's new selection of drinks for their various bars.

Some genius had even commissioned Lung-shaped pinatas and hung them from the rafters, so gang members riding each other's shoulders could strike drunkenly at them with bats. Then, when they burst, cash flew out, mostly five and tens, but also some ones and twenties.

Again, it was cheap for the enthusiasm and loyalty it bought.

They had not had a real victory like this to celebrate in a long time. Lung had been effortlessly managed, and Oni Lee was dead, so casualties had been practically nothing.

The Empire capes began to excuse themselves after a mere hour, but the party would be going on long into the wee hours of the morning. People would be waking up from where they'd fallen and leaving that warehouse well into the following day.

Rune, the lady of the hour, defeater of Lung, and the toast and star of the party, was actually among the first to go, as she had school in the morning, and it was important not to leave clues like a trail of suspiciously timed absences.

Different cars, with different appearances, began to leave at different times, to different destinations. Mostly, these were the catering vans that had brought the food, wine and decorations. The capes would then change cars at those Empire-affiliated businesses, often driving themselves from there.

Traffic cameras had been shot out at strategic locations to ensure this travel was safely anonymous.

Normally Victor would leave with Othala, his wife. But it was not unusual for Kaiser to ask one or more of his lieutenants to join him for an after battle debriefing, and today that was Victor.

The ride was conducted quickly, but quietly. The men changed cars at one of the usual places, then went on direct to Medhall. It took only a few minutes before they were pulling into a private, underground garage, both men still high on the rush of victory.

They were soon in an underground locker room, changing out of their costumes.

Max deemed this an appropriate time and place to bring up another problem, but his mood was good so he adopted a teasing tone as he scolded Victor, "So, Lex, why don't you tell me about this little gambling problem you seem to have picked up. Lost two, ten-million dollar bets on the same day, did you?"

But Victor was not to be upbraided so easily. He returned, "Pfft. Those were payouts and you know it, Max. They would have been cheap at twice the price. The boy gave us the plan that got us out of the gun mess, but he seems to have forgotten in advising us to pick an insured warehouse to guide Lung to, the contents of that warehouse would be fully insured as well. We'd told everyone we had over thirty thousand guns in there, and thanks to his advice we had all of the evidence to prove it, too. So we'll get insurance money to cover them. His ten million was less than one quarter of that payout. We came out ahead."

"Ah, I see. And Rune? Why should little Tammi get her own ten million dollar payout?" Max removed his gauntlets and placed them in the metal container meant for them. They would be removed, and melted into scrap, before dawn.

Victor did not have nearly as much costume to remove. So after a quick change of shirt and pants, then carefully placing his mask in its place in the locker, he went and helped Max, carefully unhooking his pauldrons. "Like I said, cheap at twice the price. You would have paid anything to get a way to reliably shut down Lung, and now we have it. Besides, ten million? The Empire loses as much or more during a week of Lung's rampages. She's saved us as much already by putting a stop to this one. Admit it, Max. The ability to shut him down is priceless, and now we have it. The fact that Rune was happy to do it, and is even looking forward to her next opportunity? We came out the big winners on both of those bets, and you know it."

"Besides," Victor continued. "On top of those victories, which are both huge, kid gave us the idea to run bets on which cape is going to take down Lung next. It's already seeing some serious action, all across the nation. At this rate, we'll make back both bets in a couple of weeks, AND make the ABB look like idiots as we do so." He smiled. "And publicly humiliate Lung, of course."

Stripped to the waist of his armor, and unable to drink before due to his helmet, Max poured some of that excellent wine and swirled it around in a glass, now with a considerably happier expression as he did so, and smiled. "You're right, of course. Lung was our only major competition in this city. With him reduced as a threat, we can accomplish so much more..."

Now Victor looked nervous. "About that. Let me tell you what the Belmont kid passed on to me, about what a fleeing mole told him about Coil..."

OoOoO

Lung woke up to a slap on his face, to find himself soaking wet on his cot next to a dripping anchor.

At first he did not recognize the cape sitting across from him. She was wearing a pink and white outfit unfamiliar to him, with exaggerated boots and gloves that reached nearly to the knees and elbows respectively. The tunic came down to end in a skirt, reaching mid-thigh, while the helmet was a strange, winged design. Over the back she wore a half-cape, also of pink, and taking up most of the chest, centered over her heart, was a large white circle backing the symbol of an open pink book, with a caption spelling out below it, "Reading is fun."

It was obvious she was not wearing a bra, as the fabric came to two points poking through the image of the oversize book.

As the figure shifted, he could tell she had on stripes running down the outside of both legs, the slogan, "Open a book today."

She looked like a power ranger on a book selling ad, and he opened his mouth to tell her so, but she cut him off.

"Nice anchor," Alexandria mused, obviously checking out the heavily clawed 'SS Lung' inscription. "Did you have it made custom? Oh, by the way, you owe nine favors at this point. Lucky for you, I have an opportunity for you to pay one off."

OoOoO

Author's Notes:

Have you ever done that trick where you take a shovelful of one anthill and put it on another hive's nest, then done the same in reverse with a shovelful of the other hive? Both ant hives perceive the transplanted bit of dirt as their hive, and will defend it to the death, even as it sits on the 'defend this to the death' turf of another hive.

The end result being, both hives get wiped out, exhausted almost down to the last ant in their turf war with the other hive. The ants are vicious, too, striking at the queens and eggs of the other hive as priority targets. So each gets thoroughly eliminated.

It works when you use three anthills, too.

Here, one of those anthills is named "Coil's organization', another is the ABB, and third and last is the Empire 88.

Now, I am going by the understanding that powers cheat. The shards running them all gossip among each other constantly, so all of the Thinker powers are getting constant updates on the world situation through other shards in order to maintain their accuracy.

Doctor Whodunit did not appear even as an idea until all of the shards in Jared's little group were already destroyed, so none of them ever had an opportunity to tattle to the other shards as they were doing the alien equivalent of chatting around the water cooler. So the powers usual shortcut of "ask the other powers what's going on" is useless.

At this moment, any attempt to find 'Inviso-black beams', or Doctor Whodunit, or anything at all related to that is running into the problem that no one with powers knows what is actually behind any of that, so does not possess the necessary information to pass on to the other powers.

Thus, none of them know what a farce it is and are forced to take it seriously. At least for now.

And the Empire takes another major step forward on the path to their complete destruction as an organization. Only they do not know it.

Oh, and Victor found Rick at the family fun center because there were Empire-affiliated kids among the crowds who'd heard the word that he was wanted by the Empire, picked him out by his photograph (easily sent), and ratted him out.

As for why 'Rick' can be photographed when Jared cannot? Easy. The SI character set it up that way. Not appearing on cameras is evidence of a superpower, so to be avoided where possible. So while Jared, the SI, has machine invisibility up protecting him, Rick's appearance is the product of another spell, an illusion called Disguise Self - and the illusion is detectable by machines because that's part of its job.

It's not much of a help to have an illusion providing a false appearance that cannot be seen.

Lastly, according to D&D 3.x magic item crafting rules you can build any magic item you want. They even offer nifty stacking rules, just in case you want, say, for example, your flaming sword to also function as a Rod of Enemy Detection (this magic item exists in the adventure Into The Wilds, if I recall correctly - away from books at the moment). Now, a Dedicated Wright homunculus normally requires that you spend one hour initiating the magic item creation process before it takes over for you and finishes it out. However, a Quill of Scribing, another item capable of creating magic items for you (in this case scrolls), is activated by a mere command word. So, since constructs are magic items (as well as creatures), you can simply build your Dedicated Wright homunculus and a Quill of Scribing together as one object under the stacking rules, so the homunculus only needs a command word to start working - and no rule exists that you cannot set multiple objects to the same command word. So set all of your Dedicated Wrights to the same command word, and say it in their presence, activating 'magic item creation mode' in all of them simultaneously in a single action.

Beta work by Dogbertcarroll