Well here we are, the final chapter of the 1st Arc.
Seed 1. DUC (End)
Danny
Setting his glasses on his desk, Danny Hebert leaned back in his chair, a sigh escaping his lips as he sought relief through rubbing the bridge of his nose. Sitting before him was more paperwork than he had seen in quite some time, and he had been the de facto head of the Dockworkers' Association for years.
Never in his wildest imagination had he imagined that they would be at this point so quickly. It had been a little over a month ago since Taylor had approached him with the blueprints for her Focus. He could still remember his shock. But he could also remember his fear at the knowledge that this would make her a target.
His first reaction had been nearly to tell her to hide it, to never let this see the light of day. But then he had seen her expectant expression, the hope that was just starting to peek through for the first time since she had been attacked, and he couldn't do it. He couldn't rob her of that light.
And now, nearly two months later, his daughter wasn't just pursuing her dream, but she was now bankrolled to the tune of nearly sixty million dollars. When they had been brought back the next day after his daughter's presentation, he had been stunned by their announcement that they were willing to fund her so much. It was more money than even the Dockworker's Union had in its coffers at its height.
Then there was the contract itself. Outside of the money promised, there were several clauses and protections put in place for the investors, with the requirement that an observer be assigned to Zero Dawn Technologies in order to ensure that the money was disbursed responsibly, but all in all, the contract was unnaturally skewed to Taylor's favor. It was so good that every sense that he had cultivated in his years with the union were blaring warnings in his head. There had to be some sort of hidden clause that would screw them over, with the money serving as the smokescreen to lure his daughter into their trap.
Yet, despite hours inspecting the contract, and even making a few phone calls back to the Union, he had found that there had been nothing in there that would hurt Taylor. It just boggled his mind that a company would make such an investment like this with only a modest request of profits on return.
It was damn suspicious, but even now, a week and a half later, all he had were suspicions on what his daughter, who had happily signed the contract after only a few hours of ironing out a few details, was getting herself involved.
Zenith Investment Group was, by every intent and purpose, a legitimate company. There was nothing anywhere that suggested something nefarious. But he just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something that he wasn't seeing, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. There was something to all of this.
What worried him most, was that Zenith Investment Group was actually a front company for something less than legal. The amount of interest in Taylor and her technology felt more than just a business interest. No sane businessman would give that amount of money to a newcomer with no proven product, unless there was another angle.
He would need to be vigilant, and he would have to see if he could dust off a few contacts from the old crowd, see if they could find something. He wouldn't let his daughter be taken advantage of, even if she would despise him for it, he would protect her.
But right now, he had to ensure that the foundation of Zero Dawn Technologies was sound.
The first thing he had done when they had gotten back to Brockton Bay had been to put in his resignation with the Dockworkers' Association. There was no way he could function as the de facto head of it, and be the Vice President of Zero Dawn Technologies at the same time. It was both a conflict of interest, and honestly, what he was doing was a betrayal of the Union he had kept together for so many years.
It hadn't been a decision made in vacuum, and there had been contingencies in place for the Association if something had happened to him. While it certainly wasn't planned on him resigning, but it still worked nonetheless, even if it resulted in a few raised eyebrows by the fact that his replacement had been a close friend. Kurt would do a good job, he had been around as long as he had been, and would probably get rid of the doubters who believed he was merely a pawn rather quickly.
Still, it did hurt that he had to do it, he had always imagined that he would die before he left the Union. But now, here he was, a fucking corporate man. Annette would probably be laughing at the irony of it, all the while she would chastise him for giving into the system.
A knock at the door to his office caused him to look up, even as the door opened and Jean Brown stepped into the room, her cell phone being slipped into her pocket.
Jean had been one of the conditions that they had been adamant on. She would be both the observer, but also the Chief Financial Officer of Zero Dawn. It was a rather unique condition, considering that Jean had been up until last week the listed Vice President of Zenith, but Gabriel had been adamant that in order to ensure that the money was not mismanaged that she would be in charge of it.
And as much as he wanted to not like it, Miss Brown had proven just why she had been Zenith's Vice President and Alain Gabriel's right hand woman. She had been a godsend in not only ensuring they had the proper filing and documentation for the sudden influx of money, but also planning the acquisitions necessary for Zero Dawn to be readied for the necessary purchases for it to begin operations immediately.
Although they had been working together for almost a week now, he still felt slightly embarrassed around the woman. After he had resigned from the Docks, he had been reduced to working from the small office in his home, as Taylor had taken over what had previously been Annette's study. Yet the woman had not once complained over the austere furnishings of his home, despite the fact that this was evidently beneath her lifestyle. He honestly appreciated it, and it had only seemed to win points with Taylor.
"I just got off the phone with Stanley Turnbull."
"And," he asked. Stanley Turnbull was the owner of the Dockworker's Association and essentially Danny's boss. Yet, after the sinking of the Boston Corona had closed the Bay, he had nearly declared bankruptcy on the association. It had only been Danny and a few others who had been able to work a deal with the man, the Association would pay him a percentage of its income every month and he would not declare bankruptcy. The man had believed by 'renting' out the company, he could still make money, and not be responsible for it. He had been right, and Danny had ensured that he would get his cut every month, but it had allowed them to retain legitimacy and keep the union afloat.
"He said some pretty good things about you," the blonde replied, "and he's open to selling the Association and all of its assets for four hundred thousand."
He blinked, somewhat surprised at what was honestly a much lower amount than he expected.
"Did he say why he was willing to sell it so cheaply," he found himself asking, as he reached and grabbed his glasses, placing them back on his face, "I was honestly expecting at least a million."
"He insinuated that the reason why he was willing to sell it so low was because of you, Danny. He waxed rather poetic about how you made a deal with him and never broke it once. Not once in the eight years were you late on a payment, and you always seemed to do your best for the Association. He told me that he respected that."
"Oh."
"He'll be flying back to Brockton Bay in two days so we can sign the necessary documents. Once that is done, we'll have to notify city hall and the association itself. Are you honestly sure about this?"
"Taylor may be the brains of Zero Dawn, Jean," he decided to use her first name since she had used his, "but what Zero Dawn will need is muscle, experience, and facilities. The Association and the Union can achieve this in one fell swoop. It won't cost too much to refurbish many of the buildings we will need, and the Union will provide us a manpower pool that is skilled and experienced. There will probably need to be some retraining but they are, for the most part, hard and capable workers. You give them this type of opportunity, an opportunity that they have been denied for years, and you will have probably the most loyal workers you can probably get in Brockton Bay eating out of your hand."
"I hope that is sufficient for you, Miss Brown."
The woman glared at him for a moment then crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms with a frown.
"Please remember that I am not your enemy, Danny," she frostily intoned, "I am here to protect our interests. I am only making sure that the decisions you are making are the best for all of us."
She then trailed off for a moment before adding on, "And in this case, I happen to agree with you. The Union is probably our best bet to get a large amount of skilled and trained labor quickly. And you are right, but there will likely be a large amount of retraining, especially if Taylor is able to get the assembly lines figured out."
"So where do we go from here?"
"A lot of the upcoming things will be administration. The Mayor's office will likely be a roadblock in some regards, since most of the Association's contracts were linked with that office. Depending on how quickly we can get the facilities cleared, authorized, and online, we can still assure the Mayor's office that we will fulfill their existing contracts."
"But it's the after that we should be worried about, isn't it?"
"Like you said, the city has been using the Dockworker's Association as a cheap disposable labor force for years. They may not react well at the knowledge that they will lose that."
"And what do you suggest we do to handle it?"
"Honestly? Up front, I'd suggest you make the cost of the fight too much for them to stomach. Christener has been running a platform of transparency and fairness, if it became public knowledge how he has been using the Dockworker's Association, but also several other groups, it would not look good for his polling."
He couldn't help but smirk, while the Christener administration may not have been responsible for the original contract between the city and the DWA, he hadn't complained too much about using it. He had been rather nice about it, but he had made it clear to Danny in the past that they owed the city more than the city owed them for the work. Of course, he hid it behind a kind smile and a warm handshake, but the man was just as much a shark as the previous mayor, possibly more.
It would be nice to reverse the tables and throw that right back in that self-serving prick's face.
"So, barring any complication, that's the facilities out of the way. What about equipment?"
"So far, we've been able to get the equipment your daughter has asked for. What we're waiting on is a list of the custom specifications on the equipment that she needs. I checked on her before I came here, and she says she should have it ready in a day or two. After that, it will be just ordering to specification and shipping the equipment in."
"That sounds about right," he sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair, "Taylor has been hard at work since she came back. I would like to thank you for the new computer you got her. It's been a major help for her."
One of the first things that Jean had not only authorized the installation of a new internet service for the Hebert household, but also provided Taylor with a top-of-the-line tinker-made computer and laptop. It was a computer that was world's better than anything they had, and provided Taylor with options she previously didn't have. It was also an, in his opinion, a rather exorbitant expenditure after being informed of the price tag, but Jean had been adamant, citing that Taylor was pushing the limits of her computers and it would be a disservice to the company that they limit her like that.
"I do have a worry, Danny," the woman said, "are you aware of how many hours your daughter is working?"
He turned in his chair to look at her, his brow furrowing as he tried to answer the question. He could admit that he hadn't exactly been able to pay attention to his daughter as of late, they'd both been extremely busy, with the only times they talked being either in the morning or during meal time.
A meal time that he pushed…
"No," he finally admitted, not liking the fact it had to be his answer.
"I'd recommend you talk to her, Danny. Not sure if Taylor realizes or cares, but I have been tracking how much time she spends on that computer, and she''s putting in at least twelve hours a day on it. It's not only unhealthy for her, but it's venturing into child labor laws, Danny. She's in a rather gray area because she is the CEO and Head Researcher for Zero Dawn, but just because the government doesn't have a ruling on this doesn't mean they couldn't take advantage of it."
His frown deepened. As a former member of the Union, he was perfectly aware that the government didn't take kindly to child labor, especially when it skirted illegality. It was a quick point of cash for them to cite a company.
But in Taylor's case…
"Alright. I'll talk to her over dinner, I may need some help."
"Oh Danny, I don't think we know each other enough to invite me to dinner."
He spluttered at the statement, even as Jean cracked a small smile.
"Relax, Danny. I'm only joking. You're not my type anyways. But if you feel like you need the help, then dinner will be fine."
AEH
Uppercrust
If there was anything he hated more than his condition, it was the act of being idle.
Mere inaction was anathema to his upbringing. Growing up in a home where there always seemed to be work that needed to be done. Living on a farm had instilled in him a work ethic that just couldn't consciously accept the act of being idle. It was a characteristic that had reflected upon him well to his peers as he went through college and then entered the engineering sector, steadily rising up the company ladder.
And in spite of his condition, it was a trait that hadn't been tempered, as the act of sitting in a chair as the dialysis machine performed its treatment was enough to make his skin crawl. He honestly wished to be in his workshop right now, working on a pet project that had been previously sitting idle in the back of his mind.
And as much as he wished it to be, there was no feasible way to avoid the impossibility of being in his workshop right this moment. The dialysis machine was too delicate to work effectively in his workshop, and any failure would only further jeopardize his health.
So, while he could not work as he preferred, he could at least do something else. In this case, he was, once again, looking over the folder that Taylor Hebert had provided. The folder that contained the overview of what she had called 'Project Hephaestus'.
He had to hand it to her, linking the project name to the Ancient Grecian God of fire, metalworking, and crafts was certainly an appropriate metaphor for what it represented. However, in his own opinion, it may have been more apropos to have named it Prometheus, because what she was attempting to unleash would be akin to Prometheus' 'sin' of robbing the gods of fire and returning it to humanity.
When he had looked at Taylor, he had a feeling that there was more to her than met the eye. He knew of the existence of Free Tinkers, as the PRT called them, but even though they seemed to be free, they still suffered some sort of restriction or drawback that served to hamper them in some way or another. But what Taylor represented was something new, something vastly different, and vastly more terrifying.
Even now, looking over the paper, the pages already becoming dog-eared from how many times he had perused them, he couldn't help but wonder just what he was helping unleash upon the world. Not in regards to the negative aspects, he knew Accord was right on that front and the threat that young Taylor represented if she were to go 'dark' so to speak, but in what she would do to the world.
What was it the alien in that Aleph film said, 'To the undiscovered country…the future." It was both an exciting and terrifying proposition. Taylor's ideas and technology, if even a tenth of them were produced, would change the world. And if all of them worked…there would likely be a renaissance of such scale not yet seen in the history of humanity.
All from the mind of a teenage girl.
Releasing a sigh, he proceeded to close the folder again after being satisfied with his review. While he did not find anything new to it, it didn't hurt to see if there was something more to add to the web that Taylor Hebert weaved.
It was highly likely that she was still withholding things from Accord and himself. It was certainly within her right, as she wasn't required to reveal it, but the absence of knowledge could only cause him to wonder just how deep down the rabbit hole her knowledge went. Furthermore, he mentioned this to Accord, but if Hephaestus was 'Phase II' as she called it, then what was 'Phase III', because you didn't number things off like that unless there was something more.
And more worryingly, there was the scale of leap from Project Focus, a multifunction device, Phase I, to Phase II, of which they only knew about Project Hephaestus, which if you ignored the machines contained terraforming technology. If there was a Phase III, just how much of a leap forward would that be? Space flight? Or something even more?
Maybe she had a solution for his condition locked away in her head? Only out of reach because she hadn't been able to field the technology?
What he did know, however, was if they reached Phase II, not only would Taylor upset the balance of power in the world, but the concept of money would become an abstraction for them all. He may not exactly be able to get contracts like the military industrial complexes of old, but he knew a thing or two about it. And what Taylor was offering would make quite a few people obscenely rich.
His thoughts were interrupted by his phone, causing him to frown behind his mask. Who would be calling him at this time? He had made it abundantly clear that he was not to be disturbed during his dialysis?
Grabbing his phone, he flipped it over so he could see the screen, and his furor quickly died, replaced by a cold calculation as he considered the displayed name.
"Why is she calling now," he thought to himself, "she's perfectly aware of when my treatments are."
Contemplating it for a moment, he then made a decision. If she was aware of what his schedule was, then this could either be one of two things: a power play, or an emergency. Considering who it was, the latter was unlikely, as it would be a cold day in hell that she would defer or show weakness to another. It just wasn't acceptable to her.
Making a decision, he placed the phone back down and watched it go dark, the phone call going to his voice mail. It was unprofessional, certainly, but it was only fair to return it in spades for what she was doing.
Alas, his phone rang again, and this time he sighed, knowing that avoiding whatever she wanted was inevitable, so instead, he picked up the phone and hit the answer button on the screen.
"Good evening, Agnes. Need I remind you that I am currently undergoing treatment?"
"No, you do not, Uppercrust. This isn't a social call," the dulcet tones of Agnes Court filled his ears. If he didn't know the person behind the voice, it would have been mildly entertaining at how hard she tried to present herself as enticing and non-offensive.
Agnes Court was truly none of those. From the moment she was brought in by Endymion, he had seen right through her facade. How the former head of the Seattle Branch hadn't he would never know. He had to wonder what was going through his head when she had finally revealed just what she was.
What she was, however, was a psychopath. Pure and simple. There was no limit to what she was capable of and she felt no remorse for her actions. All that mattered was her objectives were met and she amassed more power and wealth for herself. It was this capacity that had caught Endymion's attention in the first place, and it had allowed her meteoric rise within the Elite.
Perhaps if he had paid more attention back then, things may have ended differently. Unfortunately, back then he had been more focused on his own treatment and establishing the New York Elite to pay attention to what was happening on the West Coast. It may have saved the identity of what the Elite had originally been.
Alas, it had not been. Agnes Court had been meticulous in her planning, when she was ready to finally execute, she had ensured that there had been no way to lose. In the span of six months, most of the leadership based on the west coast that had originally founded the Elite had found themselves co-opted, replaced or dead.
If there had been any mistake that Agnes had made in her coup, it had been the fact that she had written off Florida and New York as unessential to her plans. Then again, he could not blame her, ever since the formation of the Elite, both Gentilhomme and himself had been given a wide latitude by Endymion because of how useful the two were for the Elites interests, which allowed them to tightly control their individual branches. The fact that she had written them off had highlighted that if she had one foible it was her arrogance.
But the damage had been done, her takeover of the west coast had made her the de jure head of the Elite, even if she ran the illusion that she was only a midlevel troubleshooter in the organization. By every single metric of the organization, she was the shadow behind the throne of a supposed business confederation.
Luckily, Agnes wasn't completely insane. She had realized quickly that trying a repeat performance to correct her miscalculation would also be a mistake: Gentilhomme was too important to the Elite to remove, as he managed the logistical network of the Elite. Meanwhile, his own contributions to the Elite through large multimillion dollar government contracts had made him indispensable from a cost/benefit perspective. Instead, she had extended an olive branch, offering many of the same conditions that Endymion had allowed them to operate in the past with only a few additional caveats.
As a result, the Elite had been split into two factions with the rank-and-file largely unaware of the internal power struggle. Neither side could afford to separate, in spite of Agnes's actions, as dissolving the Elite would remove the only deterrence they had to prevent the Protectorate from simply rolling them all up.
It nonetheless remained a cold relationship between them, one steeped in distrust, and frankly, it likely would never change. He knew that Agnes Court despised him, but couldn't afford to not utilize him for her own aims, so she was forced to tolerate him. She had simply settled upon both eagerly and reluctantly awaiting his demise, as it would remove one of the last stumbling blocks to her hegemony of the Elite, even if it would cost her millions of dollars in contracts.
"I figured," he rasped drily, knowing it would annoy the hell out of her, "What do you want?"
"I need an explanation on what you are doing?"
"So she knows," he mused with a hint of irritation. It had been a foregone conclusion that she would quickly become suspicious the moment he transferred the money to Accord. It was too large of a sum of money to ignore. The fact that it was money that his branch had generated mattered little to a control freak like Agnes. Still it rankled him that he couldn't get a few more weeks out of it. He would have to have a chat with Fibonacci about ensuring that their systems were secure again.
"You'll have to be more specific, Agnes. I thought we already discussed the contract with the PRT to enhance the shield systems we already put into place on the eastern seaboard."
"Don't play coy with me, Gene," came her frosty reply, "You know exactly why I am calling. I want an explanation on the twenty million dollars that have disappeared from your branch's balance."
"Demand? Dear Agnes, you seem to have forgotten something. While I may be a member of the Elite, I do not answer to you. How I use the money that my branch has made is my business so long we continue to meet our yearly levies. Or have you forgotten the charter?"
"I have not forgotten the charter, Gene. However, I sincerely doubt when the charter was written it was envisioned that a member of the Elite would, without conferring with anyone, suddenly abscond with twenty million dollars without a word. One could believe that you may be misappropriating funds for your own benefit."
His teeth grit at the statement, the urge to snap at the younger upstart almost too much for him to resist. Instead, he muted his phone for a moment and took a deep breath. It was a matter of pride that in all of his years he had not once misused any money that he was in charge of.
Unmuting the phone, he decided that if she wanted to posture and threaten, he could return the favor.
"Be careful, Agnes, you're treading on my dreams."
"Excuse me?"
"Let me make this abundantly clear to you, Agnes. What I do with the New York Branch's money is none of your concern. Unless you want to change the charter to reflect that, it will remain none of your concern. Now that I have established my position, I will, however, in light of the fact that we are on the same side, let you know that the money you are inquiring about is a project that I authorized. That I approved. And that I am personally overseeing. Is that sufficient? Or would you like to escalate this to the Committee?"
He knew perfectly well that Agnes couldn't take the risk of trying to bring this to the rest of the branches, despite the fact that she had it stacked in her favor. If she did so she would draw the ire of Gentilhomme, who would not take kindly toward Agnes challenging the charter, which she could not afford.
He would have to reach out to Gentilhomme after this and ensure he was made aware of just exactly what was going on. While he could depend on the man to keep the traditions of the original Elite, it would still be respectful to keep him apprised of the situation.
"That…will not be necessary, Uppercrust," she relented after a long pause, obviously coming to the same conclusions that he did, and by using his cape name, was admitting defeat, "I am merely voicing my concern and let my passion get the better of me. I apologize."
He knew it was a false apology, but it wasn't worth incensing her further. The fact that she was backing down was a win in and of itself.
"Apology accepted. As a gesture of good faith, I will keep you informed on the progress of my project. But right now, I am in the preliminary stages. I hope to have some results within the next few months."
Another long pause met him.
"That is acceptable," was her awaited response, "I will look forward to the fruits of this project. Good evening."
With that she cut the call, leaving him once again alone.
Lobbing the phone back on the table, he leaned back in his chair, letting the dialysis machine do its work.
While he may have won this battle, the war was far from over. There was no way that Agnes would leave this alone, she hated the unknown and anything that may undermine her approach to taking over the Elite would not be tolerated.
And once she found out exactly what he was doing, she would make a move. She couldn't afford for him to gain any advantage or power over her. If it came to be known, once Taylor had started rolling out her technology, that he had been the one to cultivate her, it would upset the balance of power in the Elite that Agnes had kept scaled in her direction.
And even worse, he knew exactly what she would think when she looked at the situation. A young, fifteen year old cape who was rolling out technology that was unrestricted and making money? She would likely come to the belief that he was cultivating Taylor to be his successor. And if it was true, which it was not, after all, how could he truly groom Taylor to be his successor if she was unaware of who he was, then her carefully laid plans to wait him out would be void.
If only they had a few more weeks, he could have ensured that Agnes would never be able to figure out what he had done. Instead, he now had to plan for a new foil to everything, because Agnes would inevitably become involved sooner or later.
Looks like he was going to have to call Accord ahead of schedule.