0.4

Dockworkers Union

Danny was used to busy days.

Not the good kind, either.

Busy implied that there were people calling them to work, that business was tough but still profitable, that they had to fight for every little bit of work they could out of every opportunity. That was the kind of busy where Danny thrived, and the reason why he took the position in the first place.

These days he had to deal with the bad kind of busy.

Too many calls, not nearly enough answers.

It was hard finding a gig that helped folks keep their jobs, and even when he did the best he could, it was never the kind of thing that worked out long term. Because people were skittish around Brockton Bay, just like they were skittish about anything that had to do with transporting crap by boat.

'We can thank the big lizard for that one.'

Business was drying up - had dried up a long time ago - and any jobs they got weren't enough for everyone.

And he was the head of hiring!

Danny hadn't done any hiring at all in the last six months and he'd spent six days out of seven trying to find people that needed something, anything for the last three years. Most of what he'd dug up was grunt work, temporary hands for moving companies, warehouses, unloading trucks, that sort of thing.

And it was good, honest work.

No compromises with the gangs, no groveling at the feet of the feds.

But that wasn't enough anymore. Not… for a long time.

It's why he'd been trying and pushing to get the bay area cleaned out for years now. Because as unlikely as it would be to motivate those scaredy cats in the market, at least it would give them some room to grow again.

Some hope that they could rebuild things.

Danny didn't expect it to ever happen.

He certainly didn't expect it to happen today of all days, or to look out of his office's window and see a whole fleet's worth of ships floating weightlessly over the ocean. Trapped inside massive bubbles of water, they looked like those souvenir 'ships in a bottle' that shops down on the Boardwalk sometimes sold to tourists.

Only there was a difference between a tiny boat in a bottle, and a ship the size of a skyscraper looming over them like something out of those weird alien invasion flicks from Aleph.

He pinched himself, just to make sure he wasn't sleeping.

"Danny, we got a situation out front." One of the boys called from the door.

"I think I can see it from here, Hinterman."

Somehow, his voice hadn't shook.

"No, boss, it's, uh, well, it's the Protectorate."

The old man's head snapped around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. We are not having a cape fight on the Union's plot!"

Rushing out the door, temper warring with common sense, Danny, the highest ranking administrator, and in fact the only admin left at the Union at the moment, grabbed his coat and almost knocked his office door off its hinges.

"Look, whatever this is-"

His call out stopped, dying in his throat.

"Oh."

Because he was looking up now.

The broken ruins of the cargo ship that'd blocked the bay for so long was above them. A great rent torn in its side, bowels half spilled out in the bubble of spinning water that cradled it, the light of the sun reflecting and refracting like it was one great jewel.

"My God it's massive."

Gravel crunched under foot as he stood out front of the Union building, several police cars, two PRT vans, and two Protectorate vehicles were idling, waiting.

People milled around.

"Go home."

Throat painfully dry, he spit, then swallowed, then found his voice.

"Everybody, shift's over! Go home for the day! Get the fuck out of here already! Are you people stupid? This is cape business, we do not do cape business! Go, go, go or I'll put my boot up your ass!"

There was confusion, but, when he started screaming, the old military men in the Union, most of whom had already been ready to bolt at the sight of a wall of death hanging in the sky above them, corralled the rest of the staff, got them to their cars, and got the Hell out of there - all but half a dozen.

Hinterman shrugged.

"Lost rock, paper, scissors. Got to stick with you, boss."

Nodding, accepting the former naval petty officer's explanation, the short man with a not so great hairline wrestled his father's temper into submission. All in time for a man in heavy blue armor to walk over.

"Mr. Hebert."

"Armsmaster."

A slight inclination of the head.

You didn't need to be a cape groupie to know who the man was on sight. You lived long enough in Brockton, and you were bound to see the man's face, or helmet, on enough outdoor billboards, TV commercials, or newspaper articles. Even Danny, who was by no means a hero enthusiast, knew a few things about heroes that he picked up over time.

Mainly because his daughter shared them with him.

He could even tell who the other heroes loitering about in his workplace were. Miss Militia, one of the original Wards, then there was Triumph with that eye-catching lion helmet in bright gold.

Then there were Assault and Battery.

'Or were that Battery and Assault?' He knew they were married but for the life of him couldn't make out enough of their suits from where they were standing to tell which was which.

Still, this was a hell of a group and Danny wasn't sure if he liked having this many heavy hitters parked right outside his front door. The sooner they got what they needed and left, the better.

"Anything I can help you with?"

He looked up at the floating wreckage for emphasis.

"Anything that doesn't have to do with that, at least."

"Ten minutes ago, we received an anonymous call regarding an ongoing heist attempt. The perpetrator herself called the Protectorate in order to let us know she would be acting. We'd hoped that by following the salvaged wreckage, it might lead us to her. Only they lea us here."

Danny saw the writing on the wall.

"And you think we have something to do with… that?"

"We merely followed the evidence." There was no implicit threat or accusation. No, it was clear in his tone that he was genuinely considering whether they might be involved with this… colossal theft.

Cooperation was the word of the day, it seemed.

"Well, we're as surprised as you are so I don't know what you expect me to say."

"I don't suppose you're aware of who Fontaine is, what she wants, or why she called in to report herself for 'committing a crime'?"

"I- who?" Danny felt a sudden, stabbing pain in his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, I don't know who that is or what's going on, really. Who's Fontaine? Is that the cape behind this? Please, start from the beginning."

Armsmaster frowned, looking displeased at the answer.

"We don't know much, we had hoped to find out more by trailing the moving wreckage. An unknown parahuman called our priority line to report her own ongoing crime. Given the circumstances, we thought she might have been here, but it would seem that is not the case."

Someone called in to report their own heist? What kind of crazy were they dealing with?

"And the ships?"

"The culprit emptied out the graveyard. We don't know precisely what she aims to do with them, but thus far the wreckage has remained stationary in this area."

And by the looks of it, weren't coming down any time soon.

Still, he had to ask.

"And what does that mean for us?"

To the side, a young woman coughed awkwardly as she stepped closer to where they stood. Was she… Assault? No, no, those were circuit lines, that was Battery.

"Technically, this is still an ongoing heist attempt. While the abandoned ships technically belong to their respective companies, salvage laws are unclear in regards to Parahuman interference. We will have to make some calls, and contact the mayor, but so long as the… ahem… stolen goods remain here, they are technically in a gray area."

His immediate response of 'because Capes are assholes who do whatever they want' was stifled.

Considering present company and whatnot.

"So what? My folks still have to come here tomorrow for work. Can't you just… ask someone to come down here and push them away? They aren't even on the ground. Maybe that girl from the Brigade can do it?" He pointed up at the floating vessels, earning a wince from the assembled team of capes.

"Ordinarily, they would be confiscated and designated as proof for a possible case against this 'Fontaine' cape. However, as they were moved from the actual crime scene and parked on private property, it is up to the proprietor."

That meant they were pawing this off on them?

Really?!

Did they know just how much work it would take to disassemble those wrecks? The amount of material they'd have to store? Never mind the time they'd have to waste on going into the ships themselves to make sure none of them would blow up because of electrical failure or whatever leftover fuel they still had.

It would be…

'So much work.'

Danny stopped, mind stuttering as the words echoed in his ears.

"So you can't use the ships as evidence?" Even so, he had to confirm.

"As the ships have been and are still under the influence of an unknown parahuman with powers that are yet to be properly understood, the likelihood of that is low. Any judge would probably wave it off as tainted, rather than establish a precedent for evidence under parahuman effect in court."

So, once again, this was down to people not wanting to pull their heads out of the sand. Which meant that these hunks of junk would just be… left here.

"Hinterman."

"Yes sir?"

"You know where to find the mayor's number."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Call him, tell him to get contracts for the disassembly of major public hazards."

Everyone watched as the unknown cape slowly lowered the immense vessels into an empty, overgrown lot.

Like ducks in a row.

"Yes sir."

Even the Navy man sounded… small. For all that he was built like a barrel, a meaty fist wasn't much good against that kind of overwhelming, parahuman, bullshit. As for Danny? Well, he had work to do.

"So, Armsmaster, would you and Kid Win like first crack at any electronic components still stored in those cargo containers?"

The Head of Hiring didn't even bother with his charming smile.

Because the big man with the big fuck off axe just grunted, raising up a hand to block out the dust cloud raised by the settling metal hulks.

There was a new kid in town afterall, one who was happy to make a splash.

And the evidence of her debut now dominated at least three city blocks.

Meanwhile

Holy shit.

Holy SHIT.

'I actually did that.'

She'd actually walked over to a payphone, dialed up the emergency PRT line, and proceeded to tattle on herself. A plan so bold that Taylor had actually thought twice before suggesting it, yet somehow managed to follow through regardless of all the ways it could have gone wrong.

Really, had she not proved who she was to the phone operator, it might still have failed.

'You adapted quite well to the situation.'

Taylor felt a thin smile on her face. While usually she would feel annoyed at her powers, no, at Focalors' comments. This time she was actually pretty satisfied that a plan she came up with and executed managed to go off without a hitch.

There was still one part she was curious about.

"Why did we do this now? Couldn't we have waited until I had a costume at least?" If this was really meant to be part of her debut, she wanted to be able to actually appear in person and take the credit for all the favors she had been doing lately.

Not like anyone could claim to be her.

Her power was just too distinctive for that. But just to make sure, Taylor decided that calling ahead and letting the heroes know that she wasn't actually Leviathan this time would help keep people from freaking out and running to the shelters for the second time that week.

'Timing is important. We shouldn't allow the battle against that monster to linger in the minds of the people.'

That was true.

Cape fights, especially big ones, tended to get talked about over and over again for days on the internet. And she was sure that the TV would milk Lung getting kicked out of town for as long as they could.

'So if we waited too much, that first impression would be the one that stuck.'

'Precisely.'

Still, it didn't sit well with her to just make a show out of herself like this and not even give people a face to work with. They were probably coming up with all sorts of weird theories about what she looked like, or whether she was even human and not a mini Leviathan.

'On that we agree, calling and giving yourself a name also shows initiative on our part. We shouldn't allow the public to have the initiative where matters of image are concerned. Now, instead of a mysterious rogue who simply ousted a gang leader before vanishing into the depths, we are charitable sorts with a name and a mission statement.'

To help improve the city, and make it a better place.

Yes, that was a plan Taylor, now Fontaine, could get behind.

"If that's the case, then I think it's time we introduce ourselves to the mayor."

'Oh?'

Her power sounded amused, playing along like she hadn't helped come up with the precise details.

'Yeah.' Taylor pulled a small domino mask out of her backpack and, opening up the crappy plastic wrapper it came in, held it for a moment. 'Like you said, the only way to get anything done is if we have power.'

'Ah. That isn't… quite what I meant earlier.'

'Maybe.' Taylor agreed. 'But that doesn't mean it's untrue. We need to capitalize on our initiative. And at the very least I can offer the mayor some help.'

'Along with the threat of our displeasure?'

'No.' The teenager countered, firmly. 'We're not giving him the option to say no.'

'And why is that?' Focalors sounded intrigued and her… sensation pressed against Taylor's mind. It made the teenager shiver. 'I thought you had decided to avoid the rather disappointingly common Athenian proclivity?'

"Please don't put it like that." Taylor groaned in embarrassed agony.

She was sure that her powers were doing this on purpose to mess with her. There would be no way Taylor would have let her read from her school books if she knew it would lead to this.

'Oh very well. If this is to be a might makes right approach, what purpose does it serve? What does pursuing hegemony do to advance our cause?'

'Because then the mayor can just tell everyone he's being forced to do it. Meaning, like with the ships, it's not his fault. It's mine. Which means everyone has to take it up with me if they don't like things getting better. And we're strong enough that, even if they do cause trouble, I can just stick them in a water bubble until they get tired.'

'A double bluff, then.'

'At least… I hope it is.' There was a pause. 'I hate having time to think.'

Something she's had to do more often since getting powers she needed to convince to work for her. It was a drag, but also true that she wouldn't have come up with a plan like this if her powers didn't come along with Focalors.

The end result was better despite the annoyance and extra time she had to put into planning.

'I do confess that having the aid of local officials often greatly expedites one's tasks. So long as you make it clear that you wish to help strengthen his hand, there are likely few, if any, objections he might have.'

'Are you going to tell me how democracy is inefficient again?'

Taylor got the impression of a smirk.

'I don't believe we have the time to revisit the subject… right now, at least.'

Apparently, her powers, or at least the being behind them, who was essentially a physical god as far as how powerful they were, strongly endorsed pragmatic theocracy as a superior form of government. One with her at its head, of course.

Who could have possibly guessed the frustrating voice in her head liked being in charge?

"I'll let you crack open an encyclopedia later, okay? For now, let's keep our eyes on target."

Now where had she put that number again?

'Left back pocket. And I still think you should buy a pair of men's trousers if you won't opt for a skirt with pockets.'

'Thank you. Your fashion advice is appreciated.'

Taylor forced as much sarcasm into her voice as she could, ignoring the comment about her pants, and found the folded piece of paper.

Putting half a dozen quarters into the payphone, and boy howdy had it taken a while to find a booth that someone hadn't fouled in a variety of ways, she double checked the numbers on the scrap of paper and punched them in. Thankfully, the lady on the other end picked up on the second ring.

"Hello, this is the Brockton Bay mayor's office, how may we help you today?"

The secretary sounded a little bored and her voice was a touch distracted, but the woman sounded polite enough.

Which meant Taylor felt a smidge guilty about doing this.

"My name is Fontaine. I'm the woman who threw Lung out of town and I'll be walking in the front door in ten minutes."

"I'm sorry but-"

"Look out your front window." She didn't give the woman time to explain or protest or try and play her off. "Do you see the wall of water rising out of the ground? Should be about three times as tall as the building you're in."

"I-I-I-"

"I'm not here to threaten you. But I do need to speak to the mayor. So let's just set that appointment, okay?"

A long pause came over the phone and the young woman had to feed another round of quarters into it. Eventually, though, the woman on the other end of the phone responded. Probably after having informed security to call the PRT. But that… actually probably helped a lot with the bullshit Taylor was trying to pull off.

"O-ok. I'll… let him now you're on your way?"

"Thank you. I'll walk on over."

Hanging the phone on the receiver, Taylor shoved the sleeve of her hoodie into her mouth and screamed.

Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt, she was sweating, and right now it was like there was lightning in her veins! And the worst part of it was that fucking Focalors was laughing!

Not just that, the sound of polite clapping seemingly echoed alongside the demure giggling of a noblewoman. The sort one would expect from those oldie theater performances.

'My oh my, poor little Fontaine, what a wonderful performance!'

Grumbling, Taylor stepped out of the phone booth and thought of the most disgusting things she could before shoving the mental images at the bitch who wasn't paying rent. This was not funny, and she wasn't here to entertain the watery wench.

'Oh, come now, I couldn't let you replicate that call to the heroes, now could I? You were stumbling around like a newborn chick. You even asked me to coach you before making this call!'

Groaning, feeling like an immense asshole, Taylor took off her hoodie and… looked down at her mother's clothes.

After deciding what her 'hero look' would be, Taylor was faced with the reality that she didn't know exactly where to get the pieces for it with the money that she had available, which wasn't much to begin with. She couldn't very well go into random stores and purchase weird costume pieces.

'And if need be, I can always try and help. Learning how to make my own clothes sounds like an adventure.' She appreciated the thought behind the offer, but didn't exactly trust Focalors would be all that good at it. Not when her first suggestion had been to just dress her up in water as opposed to actual clothes.

Which would be like walking around with just a swimsuit on.

Taylor refused the idea immediately. But it still left her with a problem.

Going around town buying things from shops to piece together an outfit would be tantamount to leaving behind a paper trail for people to follow. Especially since the look they were trying to pull couldn't just be pulled off with normal clothes. Taylor wasn't good enough at sewing to do it herself, either.

'Mom was a fan of theater.' She was also enough of a hoarder that she kept things she hadn't used in years. Things that were all too easy to mess around with because dad had moved them to the garage and barely wanted to acknowledge its existence.

Most importantly… she didn't know what her mom would think of it.

Think of her for doing all of this.

'You will grow into them, Taylor.' Focalor's humor was gone in a moment, turned into a slight sensation of pride and a touch of melancholy. 'And I do think your mother would approve of what you're doing.'

'Yeah. I hope she would.'

Neither of them spoke, though the silence was… contemplative. Focalors in particular sent a sensation of comfort and approval and that meant… a lot.

A lot of what, well, Taylor didn't know right now, but when she stepped out of the payphone booth she wasn't the teenager in a hoodie and a backpack that stepped into it.

No, she was standing there in calf height boots, beige riding pants, a sharp, navy blue double breasted jacket, and a sash for a belt.

Of course, her domino mask was firmly secured and the hair pins, carefully arranged by water tentacles manipulated by Focalors, held her artfully arranged French braid in place.

And if the slight sheen of a water echo surrounding her hid the fact the pants weren't quite right, that she didn't fill out the jacket as well as her mother had, or that she hadn't really gotten in shape yet… well, who was going to say something about that when she was as powerful as she was?

Town Hall

Roy Christner didn't consider himself an idealist.

In his opinion, you didn't get to be in his position without making promises you couldn't keep. Even if the reality of his situation meant that every day he woke up a little bit more disgusted with the man he saw in the mirror. Being where he was meant that he could try and be the best man to make the difficult decisions when they came.

And he was questioned often about those.

'What do you plan to do about the economic downturn of the city?'

'What can we expect from the administration in terms of infrastructure?'

'Crime is at an all time high, does this mean the police should expect an increase in budget?'

Deflect. Deflect. Deflect.

Roy had gotten a lot of practice at giving answers that, while uncertain, kept him from being criticized too much by the media. Barring the Dockworker's Union which had, in the past, endlessly pestered his predecessor as well as Roy himself back in his first tenure as Mayor.

Constantly buzzing in his ear about the Graveyard, or the Ferry.

'Who'd think the problem would fix itself.'

Watching out his window, Roy's eyes tracked the shape of the abandoned ships as they floated through the air with a sense of… calm. Really, what else could he do in this situation other than remaining calm. He'd called the Protectorate when the calls started coming in about the ships, but at the end of the day there was nothing he could do other than make an official announcement and let the police know to cordon off the area until… whatever or whoever was doing this decided they were done.

"I can already hear the questions."

Sitting down, taking out a glass and pouring himself something he wished was a lot more alcoholic than a coke, the mayor could only sigh.

Could he have done something about this?

Certainly not.

What did he plan to do now that a third party had cleared out the Graveyard?

He had no idea.

Was this some kind of display of power, similar to how this person attacked Lung? Were they now dealing with a rogue cape possessing power unlike anything they hadn't seen short of an Endbringer? Would this individual aspire to heroism or villainy or would they just squat on top of the city, one more leech, lapping at open wounds and biting fresh ones when and where it pleased them.

Questions and more questions.

But no answers he could give.

Roy was already elbows deep on handling the crisis they had with the educational system. With Winslow's building flooded and much of it in need of repairs, if not straight up replacement, he'd had to make sure the school had enough money to open its doors as soon as possible. Never mind that he couldn't afford another school closing - the Bay was critically short of them as is.

He'd already started getting complaints from parents and businesses regarding whatever plans he had to fix it. Add an endbringer false alarm, and now a colossal heist, the Mayor found himself with quite a lot to worry about.

He just wanted a break so he could focus on one problem at a time. Was that too much to ask for?

As if answering his prayers, there was a knock at his door.

"Come in."

"Sir… we have someone on the phone asking for a meeting?"

A meeting? Now?

"Look, if it's from the Union, you can tell them that my hands are tied about this. Let the Protectorate handle it."

His secretary looked pale, eyes flitting to the window behind him.

He turned to look.

"Oh."

"She… she says her name's Fontaine."

He closed his eyes.

"Evacuate the building, have security check in with my wife and the kids. I'll take the meeting up here. Just… get everyone out the backdoor before she shows up." This time he took out a bottle of scotch and another glass, knocked the coke back, and sat down. "Just another voter, eager to meet their mayor."

His smile was brittle.

There was no alarm and no siren, no frantic escape. You didn't do those. It was stupid and it pissed off the cape in question - especially if they were pretending to be polite. No, you sat and waited and smiled.

"Hello! Ms. Fontaine?" Roy stood, extending his hand as a moving mass of water stepped into his office. "Would you like a drink? Something to eat? I've got cold cuts and cheeses if you're hungry."

Perhaps six feet tall, the cape in question tilted her - it's - head. Her body seemed to be human, more or less, but the veil of shimmering water, that didn't seem to make anything wet that it touched, rippled, distorted her features, and left only the colored smudges of her costume visible.

"Thank you, Mayor Christener." She took his hand and he shivered, feeling the freezing cold water cover his skin without lingering after a quick, mild squeeze. "I suppose we have a lot to discuss."

Worse, her voice was like raindrops.

Soft, a pitter patter, he strained to make out each syllable as he poured them both a glass of his best scotch. When the parahuman hesitated, he smiled, picked up both glasses, took a small sip of both, and set them down.

"Nothing's poisoned and I have a steam cleaner. We won't try and scrape your DNA or fingerprints, you have my word."

"Thank you." She whispered, reaching out and tentatively picking up the glass before sitting down across from him. "I do think we have a few things to discuss."

What happened over the next two hours frankly boggled the man's mind. Doubly so when the cape, who had seemingly choked on her first sip of the drink, actually did ask for the snacks. Because that was about the point she began talking about things he thought sounded frankly absurd.

"I'm claiming salvage rights on all the abandoned ships in the Bay, but I wasn't sure which ones were still technically the property of the parent companies, even if I did look up their registries that I could find. But nevermind! I'm seizing them and I want to work out a deal with the city to deal with all the garbage and debris and use the actual profits from the salvage to start getting things fixed up."

All of that was said in a complete rush and by the end Roy thought she sounded a lot like some of his nieces and nephews.

Was she really… that young?

The thought was as much a relief as it was terrifying.

"Alright, miss, before you say anything else I want you to know that I can't actually… just issue orders. But I need to know, are you planning on, well, just breaking the law to do what you want?"

He winced but it was important to establish exact points of view.

"Well, not to sound arrogant, but, you know, no one else was cleaning this stuff up. And you wouldn't believe the amount of actual crap, um, crud! Garbage? Well, stuff people had thrown in there. So I'm trying to clean stuff up, eheh."

The laugh was horribly fake and Fontaine sounded like nothing more than a nervous teenager by now. Never mind that when she spoke every hair on the back of his neck stood up, that her body seemed to refract light in a way that was still disturbing, and that he swore the water echo around her was capable of moving independently of her body… at the same time she herself was acting.

"So." He swallowed, pouring them both another glass of scotch. "What exactly do you want? And how can I help you get it, without the city getting Walled. Or worse."

It was only their second, of course, but by now both of them had consumed a light meal and he'd personally had to quietly avoid crapping himself when she'd used her powers to get them both a glass of ice water.

There had been hundreds of filament thin tendrils that seemingly covered the entire side of his room, working the water jug, and then just disappearing.

"Well. I want to help this city and the people that live in it. Without collateral damage, I promise."

And for some insane reason, he believed her.

Actually believed her.

'I can work with this.' The realization felt like whiplash from a free fall. He'd expected some sort of ultimatum, or demand for money or control over the city in exchange for not being their personal endbringer.

She could still be that, but Roy couldn't help but sag slightly in his seat.

Maybe they weren't doomed after all.