35 Closing Words

The first though that went through my mind was 'Taylor can't be Professor Hebert's daughter. Professor Hebert's daughter is in eighth grade.'. That's right. Professor Hebert's daughter was in eighth grade and would be going to Arcadia next year, wouldn't she?

Next year. That particular 'next year' was two years ago. Of course she would be in high school now. The rest of the world didn't stop just because my own life was falling apart. The last two years had been such a fog that it was incredibly easy to forget any time had passed. When you didn't seem to be getting anywhere with your life you kind of lose track of time.

My second thought was 'What happened?'. Professor Hebert's daughter hadn't been a common topic at our meetings, but whenever she mentioned her it was always some story about this inquisitive, outgoing, friendly girl. Taylor couldn't have been further from that image.

And of course the answer to the question of what happened was obviously 'Professor Hebert'. I felt horrible for even thinking it. As if losing someone like Professor Hebert could have been some minor event. 'What happened' was Taylor lost her mother and I was looking at the consequences of that.

And suddenly I was replaying the entire candid conversation in my head, every statement made without the slightest tact or sensitivity. I had been rambling about her mother like it was nothing, like I actually knew her in some significant way, compared to the girl she had raised.

And then my third thought hit. Professor Hebert's daughter was a supervillain. I didn't even know how to process that. Thinking about Professor Hebert, and then thinking about her daughter turning to a life of parahuman crime… I think my brain was actually returning an error code at the idea.

To be honest, I wasn't exactly clear on Taylor's motivations for taking up villainy. Her basic equipment was better than the other Undersiders, meaning she at least had enough money pre-villainy to cover the elements of her costume she couldn't make herself. She obviously had bad experiences at school, but I wasn't getting the sense she was doing this out of some resentment for society.

To be honest, I didn't have the best understanding of how a person ended up as a supervillain. There were the obvious causes, like triggering with horrible powers in a bad situation and ending up doing something you can't come back from…

Putting that thought aside, there were all kinds of psychological and sociological reasons for a person to turn to crime, even beyond the effect of their powers and passenger, but I didn't see them in Taylor. Or I didn't know enough to see them in Taylor.

Before this point, not knowing the particular criminal motivations behind the Undersiders was a minor concern. I had vague senses from my passenger about backgrounds, specific events, or broad senses of objectives. That was general stuff, and not something I was particularly concerned with. Of course, that was before I realized Taylor was Professor Hebert's daughter.

Professor Hebert's daughter was watching me as I floundered through this whole mess of a cognitive process. There were still shades of grief and the spiked emotions I had triggered with my blundering description of her mother, but she actually seemed to be a little amused at how much this revelation had thrown me. Of course, I had dumped this on her first so this was probably one of those 'turnabout is fair play' things.

I was feeling increasing pressure to say something, anything, if just to fill the silence. Nothing was coming to mind because I was suddenly sitting across from Professor Hebert's daughter. I had not started this day prepared to meet Professor Hebert's daughter. I had no idea how I was supposed to handle this. This was a meeting about clearing up online confusion and planning a way forward, not dealing with something like this.

Online confusion. Oh God. People thought I was dating Professor Hebert's daughter. They actually believed I was in a relationship with Professor Hebert's daughter.

Is it weird that the first thing that jumped into my mind was 'How am I going to explain this to Professor Hebert?'.

I swallowed and tried to get my mind back on track. Turning to face Professor Hebert's daughter I took a breath and started to speak.

"Taylor, I…" I dropped off as I realized I didn't really have a roadmap through this conversation. What the hell was I supposed to say here? What did people say in situations like this?

"I'm sorry, about your mother." That was good. Well, no. That was a tragedy, but the sentiment was good. What else? "And about what I said earlier, when I didn't know, I'm sorry. About how it came off, and if I said anything…"

"It's okay." She cut me off. There was a sense of… I don't know, maybe relief, or a release of tension from her? This was a complicated situation with complicated emotions and I didn't know how to handle it. "It actually is." She sniffed slightly. "I know you didn't realize, but it was… it was nice hearing someone talk about her. Like that."

I didn't know how to respond to that. Why had I held onto the idea that Professor Hebert's family would be lavished with support, sympathy, and constant kind words about her? The idea that my own bumbling half compliments buried in the story of how I crashed and burned out the local engineering program was something special, something unusual for Professor Hebert's daughter just seemed insane.

Forcing myself to take a step back and look at things it did make a horrible kind of sense. Professor Hebert was a great teacher, but more than half her students would have graduated by now. The faculty had to move on, and it was understandable that no one was really close enough or in a position where they could check in on her family.

For some reason that made me really angry. I don't know, maybe it was guilt for not doing something, or just the fact that a wonderful person can vanish and leave a gaping hole with nobody caring enough to check up on it. I had worked through some of this stuff with Dr. Campbell, mostly to shoot down the idea that the problems I ran into at university could be traced back to one specific thing.

But that wasn't important now. Fuck, I was realizing every problem with Taylor was now a problem with Professor Hebert's daughter. Professor Hebert's daughter was essential to the safety of the universe in some vague but unquestionable way. Professor Hebert's daughter was involved in something else that was bad enough that she thought it was what I was alluding to when I mentioned the doomsday prophecy. Professor Hebert's daughter was Khepri.

Professor Hebert's daughter was in the Undersiders.

Professor Hebert's daughter had robbed a bank.

Professor Hebert's daughter held people hostage with black widows.

Professor Hebert's daughter hospitalized Panacea.

Professor Hebert's daughter vivisected a Ward.

Professor Hebert's daughter was in a blood feud with the ABB.

Professor Hebert's daughter had a violent history with Lung.

I think my mouth may have been goldfishing a little as I tried to process everything. The situation with Taylor had been difficult. The situation with Professor Hebert's daughter was looking impossible.

Okay, going in circles about the situation wasn't getting me anywhere. I cleared my throat and started again. "Taylor, when I talked about how… your mother… helped people, I didn't mean to give the impression that I had any real insight. That was just me looking back on things. I didn't mean anything by it."

She gave me a long look before responding. "That thing about her holding people up?" She asked. I gave her an awkward nod. She let out a breath and her face shifted to a bittersweet expression. "You might be right…"

"Taylor, I…" I stopped myself as she shook her head.

"Mom," She paused. Just saying the word seemed to send a twinge through her. "Mom, she liked helping people. It was what she did. The fact that she wasn't working to prepare everyone for… everything? That's not bad. It's not a bad thing to say."

I nodded. Right. She was a wonderful teacher and supported everyone around her. The fact that she didn't dig deeper than that isn't any kind of mark against her. The fact that I needed more help and didn't realize it was my own fault.

"Once again Taylor, I'm really sorry about your mother." It felt like a lame offering, like more was needed, but I didn't know how. I had a general sense of how I was going to handle things before this. Nothing about the situation had changed, but suddenly it felt like everything I was planning had to be redone.

"Thank you." The reply was sincere but Taylor looked… I wanted to say worn down, but Taylor had been showing a kind of subtle frustrated weariness since I met her. A kind of tension that wasn't obvious until it unwound. Taylor looked worn down, but it was in a completely different way. I don't know how to exactly describe it. Maybe like she had set something down rather than collapsing under it?

Wow, that was a lot more poetic than I intended. I really didn't know how to manage what was going on here. This was not anything like the kind of emotional stress I'd been preparing myself to deal with.

That was probably what I was seeing from Taylor as well. She didn't know how to handle this and was just kind of riding out the aftermath. One random connection had turned into a landmine for both of us.

The silence stretched out, possibly worse than my clumsy start of this conversation. I was trying to find a way to transition the conversation away from the current obviously painful topic to what we were actually here to deal with, hopefully without putting my foot in my mouth. Eventually Taylor saved me from having to navigate that particular issue.

"It's crazy that you knew her." I give her a surprised look. "I mean, outside my family and my dad's friends I guess I never really expected…" She trailed off. I took a breath as I considered how to respond.

"Given the size of this city there are probably a lot of people who knew Professor Hebert. They probably just don't recognize you." Like I didn't. A professor was a weird mix of personal and professional relationship. It was closer than what you got in a business environment, but there were very clear boundaries, especially in a university setting. I think Professor Hebert may have mentioned her family a couple of times in class, but it wasn't like people really saw her outside her professional role. "Or they didn't want to intrude." Which I felt like I was doing now.

God, how weird was that? I had supplied Taylor with magical weapons, rescued her from a gang attack, healed her multiple times, but talking about her family felt like a step too far.

She nodded along with that and I hunted for some way to continue the conversation. It seemed like we both wanted to simultaneously bail out and see this through, and that was less of a contradiction than it seems.

"Taylor." I started. She lifted her head to look at me. Her emotions seemed to have settled by this point. Not lifted, but not stirred up either. It was better than it had been. "I… I meant what I said earlier. I want to help with this thing you're dealing with." I was certain it wasn't the disaster my passenger was warning me about, but restating that at this point didn't seem like the best idea. "And with anything else you need." I sighed. "I don't want to intrude… I mean more than I already have, but from what you said, even outside of cape stuff, if there's a way I can help, I want to."

It felt like a lame offer, but Taylor seemed to be at least considering it. "That stuff at school? I don't know if there's anything. It's not something you can tinker your way out of."

I nodded and didn't press the issue as the Celestial Forge missed a connection to the Magic constellation.

"The, uh, the other stuff? The cape stuff?" She continued. "I still can't talk about it, but thank you. That was good to hear. I mean, it's good to know that I can, you know, count on you. For that."

I nodded again as she awkwardly finished speaking. "This thing?" She glanced up. Again, just from her expression I was completely convinced we were talking about different things. "Is there anything you can tell me? Anything that I can help with now?"

Taylor slowly shook her head. "I don't think so. Not until things calm down." She glanced back at me. "About that…"

Her tone had an accusatorial edge to it. I eyed her a little nervously as I responded. "Yes?"

Taylor steeled herself, wiped something from her eye, and took a breath. "Look, all this stuff, everything you do? I know you're probably not going to want to talk about it. I get that. But the way you're going, it has Lisa concerned. Really, really concerned. And… I think she might be right."

I cringed at that, but made myself push forward. "What… what did Lisa say about me?" Taylor gave me a nervous glance. "Taylor, I'm not stupid. I know she set this up. She was trying for something. Can you please tell me what it was?"

Taylor looked conflicted. She looked at my face, about to say something, then faltered. After letting out a sigh she began to speak. "She said you were really worried about March. She was concerned you were going to try something, and that would send things out of control." She paused before speaking again. "She also said you might start using more dangerous technology. Self-replicating or S-class stuff, things that would bring down a strike team."

I shifted awkwardly at her words. Tattletale was the most powerful useless thinker I had ever met. She couldn't predict her enemies or give me a simple target for moving against Bakuda, or counter the dead man's switch, but she apparently had at least something of a read on what I was capable of.

"Taylor, I'm not going to use any technology that will get an S-class response or get me sent to the Birdcage." I assured her. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Do you have that kind of stuff?" She asked me directly.

I took a breath and considered how to approach this. "I have some dangerous technology. Most tinkers do, or have something that can be developed in that direction. Aside from really specialized tinkers there is usually some technology they choose to stay away from." Taylor wasn't looking particularly reassured by this explanation. "I haven't built any self-replicating technology, and I'm not going to deploy anything S-class inside this city."

Taylor watched me and nodded slowly, seemingly unaware of just how technical that truth had been. Survey's growing list of S-Class threats were only S-Class if deployed without limits. As long as the A.I.s were on staged development and couldn't install themselves in new hardware they were only potential S-Class threats, as were most of my other technologies. While there were things in my workshop capable of self-replicating I hadn't built them. Tetra and the Imulsion had been supplied by my power. My other self-replicating technology was still just a set of plans inside my head.

That didn't change the fact that I meant what I said. Even if I didn't bring down the entire Protectorate on my head, that kind of display would be an invitation for the Simurgh, not to mention other crazy people like the Slaughterhouse Nine and the Fallen. I had been adamant about avoiding that kind of technology and I had no intention of breaking that now. My 'normal' technology was powerful enough that I should be able to manage without going out of line.

Taylor smiled slightly at that, and I felt like crap. I was lying to Professor Hebert's daughter. What's worse, I was lying to Professor Hebert's daughter because I couldn't trust her with more information, both because of the abstract threat of the Simurgh and because of her criminal entanglements. The criminal entanglements of Professor Hebert's daughter were affecting what information I could share with her.

Is it possible to blow a circuit within your own brain, or is that just a fancy way of saying aneurysm? Somehow dealing with Taylor had gotten even more stressful following this revelation.

"But you are going after March?" I nodded. "What is it about her that's so bad? I get she's dangerous. I mean, I was there on Saturday night. I saw what Bakuda did once March was helping her." One of Taylor's hands clenched into a fist and shook slightly. I reminded myself that I should really check on her recovery. The girl cleared her throat. "But compared to Bakuda, or like the ABB as a whole, what is it that makes her so bad?"

"She's more than dangerous." I replied. "She's trying to do something, something bad. On like, a couple of levels. Everything I'm getting from my power says I need to deal with this as soon as possible."

Taylor looked uncomfortable. "March scrambles thinker powers, right?"

I nodded. "That's what I heard. And Tattletale seems to still be having trouble with her."

"Are you sure about this?" She asked. "You didn't have anything on her before the press conference, right?"

I let out a slow breath. This was a bit more detail than I would have preferred to share, but I could afford it to settle the issue. "My power doesn't work like some perfect precognitive machine. If I'm not looking for something it won't show it to me. That's what happened with March. 'ABB Thinker' wasn't enough to trigger my power. Once I learned about her from the PRT press conference things fell into place."

Taylor didn't look convinced. "Lisa, she thinks you might be getting the wrong message. Like, March's power is throwing yours off and it's going to cause problems."

I took a long look at Taylor as I considered what I was going to say. Tattletale wasn't coming from a completely unreasonable angle on this, at least with the information she had. I needed to clear this up, just to assuage any major concerns.

Of course, to properly assuage concerns would just bring a new pile of concerns to the forefront. It probably wasn't a good idea to bring up that sense of distant doom March triggered in my passenger. At least, not in terms as specific as those. Instead I stuck with the facts, as much as I could.

"March is very dangerous." I answered her. "This whole thing with the ABB? I have the sense that it wouldn't have been nearly as bad without her pulling the strings. But even if that's not the case, even if I'm somehow wrong on that point, I've seen how strong her thinker power can be. Not just from the initial attacks, but in all kinds of other applications."

"What do you mean?" Taylor asked.

"Okay," I began. "You know that thing where I went after ABB assets?" Taylor nodded. "I could only do that because March was setting up a trading scam and roping conscripted stock brokers into it. She was pulling it off under Watchdog's nose. They might have caught her eventually, but that didn't change the fact that she managed to scam the most heavily monitored market in the world."

Taylor's eyebrows rose at that.

"There's also the heists from Saturday night, setting off the blackout, coordinating ABB forces, and probably the only time Coil's mercenaries have run into something they seriously couldn't handle, and it came from them clashing with basic gang members." I took a breath. "And then there's her striker power."

Taylor blinker. "Striker power? What about her striker power?"

"It's strong." I answered.

Taylor gave me a nervous look. "How strong?"

"Extremely. Probably something that could take down top tier brutes." I explained.

"Like Assault? Glory Girl?" She asked.

"Like Alexandria." Taylor's mouth dropped open. "That power, it's some kind of explosion that extends through multiple universes. I haven't seen it in action, but from recordings and what analysis I can put together it's a serious annihilator effect."

"What does annihilator mean?" She asked in a small voice. "I get with a name like that it's not good, but how bad…"

"Siberian."

Taylor's mouth closed with a click.

"I don't have hard proof that it's that strong," I shook my head. "but everything I'm getting from my power and my own analysis tells me that's the class we're talking about."

"How are you going to deal with something like that?" Taylor looked at me with concern.

"Mostly?" I responded. "Don't get hit." That at least got me a ghost of a smile from the girl. "Find her before she finds me, hit first and don't leave things open for a counter attack."

"Is that possible? I mean, with her thinker power…" Taylor let the silence draw out between us.

"There are… standard ways to deal with thinkers. Mostly limiting information." I sighed. "Actually, Tattletale asking me to step back might help with that."

"Really?" She asked.

"Yeah, I mean, I don't like leaving the gangs to fight each other, but this means March will have less information on me, on what I can do. Depending on how her power works that could make the difference." And even if it was precognitive or clairvoyant it wouldn't be getting anything from my workshop. I just needed to let things deescalate and wait for the ABB to overextend themselves.

Taylor nodded slowly. "So, that's your plan? Let them fight it out until you can do something against March?"

I sighed. "It's not a perfect plan, but Tattletale had a point when she suggested it. I... I haven't been thinking things out as well as I should have. This whole situation has built really fast and I'm trying to get a handle on it."

"Because you're getting more powerful." It was a statement, and one with no question or doubt behind it.

I looked at her for a long moment before nodding my head once. "I can't explain the exact details, but yes. I guess it's obvious."

"Only a little." She quipped.

"Yeah, well, I'm figuring things out faster now. A lot of stuff I couldn't handle before is opening up, but it also means I need to spend more time managing everything. I'm split between dealing with the ABB mess and trying to build what I need to deal with the ABB mess." I explained.

Taylor gave me a look that made me feel uncomfortable, though in a completely different way from the misconceptions we'd come here to address. I had admitted I was basically Dauntlessing my way through things. It wasn't exactly a revelation based on my past performance, but having me confess to it was another matter.

Thankfully she didn't ask any follow-up questions, not about how fast my power was advancing or what I was capable of or what I would be able to do. I don't know if she picked up on how I felt about it or just didn't want to put me in a position where I'd have to refuse to answer. Instead she changed the subject.

"You're meeting with the rest of the Undersiders tomorrow right? About the debt?" She asked.

"That's right." I answered. "Tattletale is setting something up. Going to call after we're done here."

Taylor looked pensive. "I don't know if I should tell you this, but a lot of them aren't taking it well." She confessed. "I mean, owing that kind of money." She looked up sharply. "Don't get me wrong, everyone is really, really grateful that you showed up, and for everything you did, but the Undersiders…" She paused and seemed to considered her phrasing before continuing. "They aren't that hard as criminals go. A lot of them are just there because it's a place for them, because it's helping them out. I guess what I'm saying is a lot is going to depend on what you want for that debt."

I considered that question. Basically what I wanted was for them to sit on their hands until I had dealt with everything. Preferably absolutely everything, including the 'Taylor/end of the world' mess. Unfortunately, I didn't see that happening.

They had a benefactor who would want to keep them in play, or if that wasn't possible would take steps to minimize the threat they could pose to him. Even them admitting to his presence could be enough for him to try to silence them.

Brian was caught up in the reputation side of the cape scene and would want a show of strength sooner or later for the sake of his team. He also had some kind of other obligation, but my information on that was from my passenger and thus vague as hell.

Alec was, well, Alec was messed up. My passenger could confirm that and once I got past the rage at Bakuda's escape I could tell there were serious problems in play. If the Undersiders were some kind of coping or support system for him then upheaving it could see him jump ship.

Rachel obviously was devoted to the team, at least at a high level, and my passenger seemed to indicate she had some kind of obligation that would quickly come to a head if her jobs were disrupted. I'm not sure what a person in her situation was pouring money into but…

Dogs. It was dogs. Obviously it was dogs. Rachel was looking after dogs, more dogs than she used in her cape work, and that's why she needed funding. Someone like Bitch with access to an army of dogs should have been the kind of thing that triggered a massive alarm, but that wasn't the sense I got from my passenger. These were just normal dogs that she was looking after.

The parahuman villain with a murder charge was running an animal rescue. I would need to modify my demands on the debt to make sure the puppies didn't starve.

As I was thinking over things I felt the forge make a connection. My reach had built to peak level, but once again I connected to a mote that only consumed half of it. It was a mote from the Resources and Durability constellation called Robust Engineering, and it was connected to my Decadence power.

This power concerned building technology that would last a ridiculous amount of time. On its own this would let my work hold together for centuries. The thing was, I already had Built to Last and Reliable Invention, both of which extended the life of my inventions indefinitely. You would think that kind of thing would make this power useless, but there was one significant difference.

This power wasn't just about a something not breaking down for centuries, it was about it lasting for centuries. As in, continuing to function. And a device can't function without power.

It might seem minor, but this technology gave an understanding of how to stretch power sources to a ridiculous duration. It couldn't do anything with ammunition or propellant, but any form of battery or self-contained power source could be extended over a duration approaching the life of the Roman Empire.

For moderate draws, anyway. More power intensive uses I might have to cheat with capacitors and recharge cycles, but it would still be self-contained and operational for centuries.

I put that aside as something to work with later and turned back to Taylor. She had been watching me contemplate the situation with the Undersiders, which seemed to have blended into the contemplation of my new power. At least it saved me from needing to explain zoning out in front of her.

"Taylor, I don't want the Undersiders to splinter, but a lot of what I've done has been based on holding to my agreements." It was a convenient cover, particularly when concerning the Undersiders' mystery boss. "I don't want this to cause problems, but I can't just walk away from it. Not at this point."

She nodded. I think she got the idea of having something attributed to you and having to deal with it. Actually, we both did. What the hell were our reputations outside our supposed relationship? I had excessive contract loyalty and advanced technology. Oh, and extreme showmanship thanks to how the circumstances of my appearances kept lining up. Taylor had terrifying brutality, cool demeanor under pressure, and the general impression that she was in a different league than the rest of her team.

I think only two of those were my fault.

"So, do you know how you'll handle it?" She asked.

I shrugged. "Not with cash. I have a general idea of how much this is going to come to, and I don't want the Undersiders trying some insane heist to try to pay me back. Probably the same thing as Saturday night, jobs, assistance, maybe help with research."

Taylor nodded along. I think she had the sense that was how this was going to go, but it was probably good to have it confirmed. She considered something and cracked a smile.

"You know, we never actually came to a decision on how to handle things online."

I stared at her, then let out a brief chuckle. "Right. I guess it got kind of overshadowed." I let out a breath. "It's still in your court. How do you want to handle it?"

Weirdly, completely out of nowhere we had ended up with another explanation for our connection. I didn't know how I felt about using Professor Hebert and an explanation to the public, even with all the details left out. What would that look like? Family friend? Debt to her parents? Owed her mother?

Actually, none of that would work. There wasn't much that could dissuade something like this once it got going, and claiming any kind of connection that could be romanticized would just dump gasoline on the mess. The only thing that could be worse than people assuming I was in a relationship with Professor Hebert's daughter would be people assuming I was developing a relationship with Professor Hebert's daughter. That would somehow take things from watching the 'relationship' to cheering it on.

I was left with the feeling that I needed to apologize for all of this to somebody, I just didn't know who.

"I think," Taylor began. "It's probably best to do something between the first and second options. Like, deny if someone asks, but otherwise don't comment on it?" She let out a breath. "I know it probably won't make things better, but that seems like the only thing that won't make things worse."

I nodded and got the sense we were both drawing from the same experience. Highschool, in a lot of ways, was so bad because it was basically a concentrated version of the worst aspects of society in general. It takes a whole pile of things that are extremely trying to deal with, then makes you encounter them multiple times a day with no option to opt out.

This online mess was basically a high school rumor taken to the level of national social media exposure. I hadn't liked dealing with that kind of thing, and Taylor was still clearly struggling with it. Still, she had a point. Lack of comments and flat denials, or just a statement about the assumptions being wrong, might do something to starve the fire. At least it would probably keep it out of official channels. Idiots could be idiots online as much as they wanted as long as they weren't influencing the policy of major branches of government.

"I can do that." I said. "I'm going to start reaching out online soon. I can take that policy."

Taylor nodded. "What about the other thing? You'll really get me whatever I need?"

I nodded slowly. "I want to help. And I'm trusting you here." Actually, I wasn't. Or I was acting like I trusted her while still having massive reservations, so was that really trust? Was trust a set of actions or an intention? Eh, not important right now. "If you need help I'll be there, and if there's something I can make that will help just let me know?"

Taylor's eyebrows rose as she replied. "Anything?"

I did not like the look in her eyes as she leaned forward, so I quickly clarified. "If it's anything that would require weapons then I'm coming in as well, non-negotiable." She nodded to that. "I can set you up with other equipment, but that might have its own problems. Anything too flashy or obvious is going to draw attention, especially compared to the other Undersiders."

Not to mention it would just reinforce the public impression I was trying to downplay. I wish I could say the fate of the universe was more important that whether I was assumed to be perving on a teenager, but I couldn't. Oh, academically I knew it was, but in terms of personal importance I wanted this impression dead and buried as soon as possible, and that was before I learned it involved Professor Hebert's daughter.

"Is there anything that you could do without it being obvious?" Taylor asked.

I considered my spy tech, all those years of training in miniaturization of function that had been loaded into my brain. Totally fabricated training, complete with British accents for that real spy feel, a secret agency in the background, and personal tutelage from a man named Major Boothroyd who ran the entire show like a master. As my powers went it was one of the less disruptive mental alterations I had endured.

The important thing was that power did open up a lot of ways for both miniaturizing and disguising technology, and that had additional potential when it came to outfitting someone.

"I have an idea. I'll work on it tonight and might have something for the meeting tomorrow. It should cover a lot of the basic issues." Taylor smiled at my response.

"Uh, sorry if this is a bit personal…" I waved her off. I think we had kind of looped past personal at some point. "Right, so I wanted to ask about, you know, this."

She gestured vaguely at me and it took me a while to figure out what she was talking about.

"What, my fitness? Build?" I lifted an arm and gestured to it. Taylor's eyes tracked my bicep as it rose and flexed visibly through my jacket. I quickly lowered my arm.

Taylor looked uncomfortable for a couple of reasons. Still, she pulled herself together and looked up at me.

"Lisa said you might be getting into tinkering with living things, wet tinkering?" I tensed and Taylor paused at the reaction, but she kept going. "I know you said you're not building anything that would bring down the Protectorate on you, but if it's something dangerous or unstable…" I shifted uncomfortably, but Taylor continued. "Look, if it's as important as you said, and as dangerous, I'm going to need a lot of help. Is… is that something I could use? Safely?"

I took a moment to parse through everything Taylor had said, picking out the fear and shadows of my own concerns towards wet tinkering. The Forge missed a connection to the Vehicles constellation as I considered the situation. Getting a handle on exactly what Taylor was asking, the answer became clear.

"Of course you can." I replied simply.

Taylor's face brightened but was still edged with concern. "It's not anything dangerous or like, painful or something?"

"Well, no on the first one." I tried to put some levity into my tone but it obviously didn't land. Her expression flickered but she forced herself to stay adamant. I took a breath before continuing.

"Taylor, this is from exercise." I explained.

The girl blinked at me. "What?"

That was predominantly the truth. Tetra stressed the body the same was as an intense workout, so the bulk of the changes were due to accelerated training. The changes due to divinity and life fiber induced evolution were more complicated, not something I wanted to get into, and things I either couldn't or wouldn't inflict on another person.

"My healing technology, the one I used on Saturday?" Taylor nodded. "It completely restores the body. That includes damage from exercise. All this, all these changes? They're due to the fact that I can do an intense workout, heal, and then get right back to training. It lets me get through months of training in a single day."

Taylor gave me a skeptical look. "It's just normal exercise?"

"Well, I have some methods of increasing the intensity of workouts." I admitted. "Those speed things along. They can get a bit unstable and have to be monitored closely, but besides that it's just a compressed training regimen thanks to not needing any recovery time."

She nodded slowly and looked a little disappointed. "So, it's not something that I could do. Not without that healing technology."

My mind suddenly jumped back to the tiny nanite sample I had started harvesting way back on… Friday night. Man, this had been a busy week. But every possible application of nanites was still out there, and with those particular nanites that ignored conservation of mass and energy… I smiled. Nanite enhancements were something I had abandoned due to the time they would take to set up and program properly, but that wasn't a concern anymore. This was something I needed to take advantage of, and something that would go a long way to making sure Taylor stayed alive.

Not just because of the end of the world thing. I really wanted to help Taylor. Something had obviously gone terribly wrong for her. That could be said about any path that led to a trigger event. I guess you could say the same about the Undersiders or any teen parahuman, but knowing at least part of the story with Taylor, that made it personal. I wanted Professor Hebert's daughter to be alright, and she clearly wasn't.

"You would need ready access to healing. There might be something I can do about that, but it'll take a while before I can nail it down." She looked hopeful, but also a little uneasy. "Until then, I could help you train. Really just healing after a workout will mean you can push yourself harder and not worry about any damage or injury."

She smiled a bit at that. "Thanks. I'm not sure how we'll work something like that out, but I appreciate it."

Right, different lives, different schedules, and the whole adult interacting with teenage girl thing that I desperately wanted to distance myself from.

"We can figure something out." I assured her. "Until then, how have you been holding up? Any lingering dizziness from Saturday night?"

She shook her head. "Maybe a bit for the first couple of days, but it dropped off pretty fast. And everything else was fine, so it was just…"

"Just what?" I asked.

She took a breath. "My powers? They've been a bit… different since Saturday."

I felt myself tense. I still didn't have a good handle on how to heal a corona pollentia. Okay, maybe between Skills: Physical Sciences, Setup Wizard, and Do One Thing At A Time I had a significantly better handle on it than I did back on Saturday night, but it was still something that posed a major challenge rather than a problem I could just leave my healing powers to take care of.

"Different how?" I tried to keep my voice level as I asked.

"Well, I can sense through my bugs." A small cloud of flies flew out of her backpack and held position in front of her. "I could always tell where they were, but getting anything else was a mess. They don't have good eyesight, and the other senses used to be all garbled."

"Used to?" I asked in a flat voice.

Taylor nodded and the flies returned to her bag. "I've been able to sort of hear through them. Not well, but enough to tell when there's sound and some general characteristics about the kind of noise. It's getting clearer, really slowly but it's getting there. I think eventually I might be able to listen through them," She frowned. "Providing this isn't a sign that something is going wrong."

This was not something going wrong. My passenger was very clear on that. As far as he was concerned this was a good thing, a very good thing, and a good thing to come earlier than was expected. It was like this was some vital piece of what made Taylor so significant in his eyes.

Remembering Taylor's range, precision, and multitasking skill, I kind of had to agree with him. Providing she was able to simultaneously process information on that level… well there were people with clairvoyance powers weaker than that. I still wasn't seeing the 'save the world' angle here, but this could be a major step up. Would be a major step up.

I spoke carefully as I replied, making sure not to convey any of my passenger's enthusiasm. "I think it's alright. The corona pollentia develops connections as a parahuman gets a handle on their power, so you get a stronger link to both your own brain and your passenger. If it's alright with you I'd like to use my healing again to make sure things are okay?"

Taylor nodded and I stood up. She rose and met me half way around the table. At her prompting I rested a hand on the sleeve of her shirt. The electronic sound started up as blue circuitry lines spread from my hand over her body and clothing. She looked down and seemed like she was going to ask about them, but her question went in a different direction.

"You mentioned my passenger? I tried to look that up, but there wasn't a lot of information on it, and everyone uses different words to describe things. What did you mean by that?" Her voice had a cautious edge to it, and I wondered how long she'd been building up to this question.

I gave her the most reassuring nod I could manage while I reviewed the information from my nanites. I decided it would be best to give her the high-level version, without the more harrowing details. "Powers are really complicated things. There are all these extra processes necessary to make them work. It's not just throwing around energy, even the most basic power has a lot of precision and direction behind it. More than a human brain can handle."

"So that's what the passenger is? The thing that manages your power for you?" She asked.

My nanites made a few incidental repairs and filled me in on the state of her brain. "They kind of offload and manage aspects of a parahuman's power. The corona pollentia is your connection to your passenger. There's some extradimensional stuff involved in the link and how the passenger functions."

That made Taylor look up sharply. "So they're this thing in another dimension that manages your power?"

I nodded and Taylor looked like she really wanted to ask a follow-up question. Instead she shook her head and went with a different topic.

"You also said something about getting closer to your passenger, when Bakuda built that big mortar thing?"

I gave her another nod as I reviewed the state of her brain and corona pollentia. It was a lot easier to understand now than it had been on Saturday, but any repair work would need to be personally directed. There was no autopilot for healing this kind of multidimensional neural structure.

"Sechen ranges. Since your passenger connects under the conditions of your trigger anything that brings you closer to that state can strengthen the connection." I put on a weary smile as I continued. "It's the kind of thing that messes up a lot of capes."

"What do you mean?" Taylor didn't look too comfortable with this topic, but clearly wasn't willing to drop it.

I examined the particulars of the corona pollentia's protein structures as I replied. "Power is a big thing for capes. Pretty much the biggest thing for most of them. If something makes them stronger, or at least feel stronger, they're going to keep doing it. And since conditions similar to their trigger can bring that out, and triggers aren't exactly nice…"

"They keep seeking out bad situations." She replied, putting together the pieces.

"Right. It's a big reason why capes, especially villains, take stupid risks that don't make sense from an outside perspective." I did my best to keep that from sounding like an accusation.

Or course, the other reason was that their passengers were sapient and actively trying to promote conflict, but when all you needed to do was tweak the tap on someone's power to drive them into conflict extra pushes weren't usually necessary. Not when you considered the kind of people who triggered in the first place.

That wasn't something I was ready to explain to Taylor. In addition to the horror of having a giant meat computer hooked up to her brain there was the whole issue of how I knew about it. What I'd said so far was information present in public theories, even if those theories were a bit obscure and not universally accepted. Going from that to what I'd learned from my own experience wasn't something I wanted to get into, both not right now and not in general.

Taylor looked like she had some follow up questions, but whatever it was she either lost her nerve or decided this wasn't the time for them. I was more than a little grateful for that and I pulled back my nanites.

"Your brain looks good. There are no signs of damage. It's harder to assess your corona pollentia since I don't really have a baseline for that kind of thing, but there's no indication that anything is wrong." Taylor seemed relieved at that.

"Thank you." She said. "For the checkup, and for everything else."

"The checkup was nothing." I assured her. "And besides the offer, I haven't really done anything yet."

"No, you have." She said in a serious voice.

The tone made me feel a little awkward, so I took a step back and started going over the actual points of our meeting.

"Right, so we have a plan for the online mess, I'll look into non-obvious equipment and training assistance and get you an update at the Undersiders meeting tomorrow, and you've got as clean a bill of health as I can give you. Anything else before we wrap up?"

I rambled quickly and tried to keep things as light and flippant as I could, but Taylor seemed to be considering things seriously. I wondered if there was something I had missed. Actually, there were probably a lot of things I was missing. The last few days had been a non-stop blitz of one thing after another, and that was just external issues without even touching on managing my powers.

"Um, there is one thing you could do, if you're okay with it." Taylor gave me a hopeful look that caused a well of dread to bubbled up inside me.

Twenty minutes later we were approaching our destination with Taylor's optimism clashing with the overwhelming apprehension that was consuming me.

"Are you absolutely sure this is alright?" I couldn't remember how many times I has asked that during the trip. Really, there was no level of reassurance that would properly prepare me for this.

"It's fine. I called ahead to make sure it was okay." She replied.

Maybe okay for her. I doubted it would go as well for me. If this hadn't been a direct and personal request that obviously meant a lot to her I would never have gone along with it. I took a breath as I turned the last corner to our destination.

I tried to distract myself by reviewing the connection the Celestial Forge had made as we were leaving the library. Another mote from the Clothing constellation, this one called Secular Skills. It actually had nothing to do with religion in one way or the other, instead being a clothing construction power.

It let me use exceptionally basic materials and tools to produce absolutely incredible clothing, and made the clothing I produced look even better than it already did. When combined with what was already possible from the Flock's Fleece it meant I could essentially make amazing clothing out of anything, using anything.

Garment was going to be absolutely thrilled.

The thought was enough to keep my mind off things as we covered the stretch of road and stopped outside our destination.

"You're really okay with this?" I asked again. "I'd understand if you wanted to keep this part of your life secret."

She just shook her head. "Lisa and Brian already know after they helped me get home on Saturday. It will be fine."

I wished I had her confidence as I followed her out of the car, down the walk and up the steps to the porch, with one of them squeaking beneath my weight. I instinctively wanted to knock, probably as much to put this off for a few extra seconds as to be polite, but Taylor just pushed her way inside.

"Dad?" She called out. "I'm home."

I hung back, but at her prompting edged my way inside just in time to see an older man with glasses walk out of the kitchen. He was tall. Well, taller than Taylor, shorter than me, but most people were. That put his thinning dark hair on clear display. He wasn't what I expected Professor Hebert's husband to look like, but then again I'm not sure what I had expected.

"Mr. Hebert?" I spoke up and tried to cover my nervousness. "My name is Jozef Duris. I was one of your wife's students."

When I had been going over this encounter in my head this was usually the point where I pictured everything going wrong. I felt uncomfortable interacting with someone Taylor's age, and this whole thing seemed like an invitation for things to be horrible misinterpreted. I had probably imagined two dozen disaster scenarios stemming out from this point.

Instead the man stepped forward and shook my hand in a grip that suggested a great deal of experience with that kind of thing. The grip was firm but not crushing, exactly what would make a good impression to someone who judged people based on their handshake. Taylor mentioned dockworkers, and I could see the hints of demeanor in his behavior.

"It's good to meet you. Thank you for driving Taylor home, and for helping on Saturday night." He had a warm, if somewhat tired smile and I could believe his sincerity. It did a lot to put me at ease, and that was probably another skill he had developed with the dockworkers.

"It was no trouble. And on Saturday, I just wish I could have done more. I'm sorry about what happened to Taylor." I assured him.

The man broke the handshake and glanced at his daughter. "It's been hard for everyone in the city. I'm just glad she had people looking out for her." He turned fully towards Taylor. "Any news from the clinic?"

Taylor had filled me in on the cover story. She was a little smug that the 'medical checkup' part wasn't actually a lie. "Everything looked good. They recommended a few more days of rest, but apparently I'm recovering well. Should be able to stop the medication."

I could see tension leave the man. "That's great news. And please thank Lisa again. This has been incredibly generous on her father's part."

"I will." She hefted her bag. "I'm just going to drop this upstairs."

"I have some tea in the kitchen. Come down and join us when you're ready." She nodded and slipped up the stairs while Professor Hebert's husband led me to the kitchen. The house was comfortable, but had a sense that something was missing. Most of the little touches that brought a home together seemed off somehow, like they were out of date or out of place. I would probably be right to assume losing Professor Hebert was to blame.

Professor Hebert's husband guided me to a chair at the kitchen table where some cups and a plate of cookies were set out. He retrieved the teapot before starting to speak.

"So, do you work for Lisa's father?"

It was the expected interrogation, and one I was prepared for. He might have been grateful that Taylor was alright, but he wasn't a stupid man. This was a sensible level of precaution to take.

"Not regularly. I've worked with Brian more often. Honestly I'm not really that close to the group." He nodded and I continued. "Mostly I do odd jobs and repair work, so we've crossed paths a few times."

"Taylor mentioned you dropped out of school?" He pitched the question as delicately as possible, and at least gave the impression that there wasn't any judgement attached.

I nodded as he poured the tea. "In my second year. The program wasn't working out for me, and I ran into some other problems…" He waved me off before I could go any further.

"That was… It was after Annette passed?" I nodded and saw the old pain in his eyes.

"I… they had a memorial service at the University, but I didn't think… the funeral seemed like something more personal…" I trailed off rather than stammer any further.

"It's alright. Things, they were bad back then. I just appreciate how much she meant to everyone." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, but he quickly schooled his features again. "So, you've been doing odd jobs since then?"

This was one of those situations where sharing information would be the best thing to put him at ease, and fortunately there wasn't much I needed to fabricate or keep hidden.

"I moved back in with my parents in Captain's Hill for a bit, then started working in the city." I explained. "Part time retail, Downtown."

The man nodded in understanding. As jobs went in Brockton Bay those positions were the most accessible and least sought out in the city. High standards and a lack of a living wage or any benefits wasn't a good combination. The turnover tended to be pretty bad.

"Taylor mentioned you were good with machines. That a holdover from your program?" He asked, and I tried to keep a straight face at my skill level being described as 'good'.

"The repair work pays better than retail did. It's something I was able to pick up and develop." That seemed to garner some level of approval from him. "I'm mostly taking stuff as it comes, but I have done some work at my gym and helped out after the blackout."

"What gym do you go to?" He asked.

"Bay City Boxing." I replied, and saw the recognition on his face.

"I know the place. You work with Douglas James?" He had a slight smile as he asked the question.

I blinked in response. Had I ever actually heard Doug's last name? Or ever heard him referred to as Douglas? "I've helped Doug out with stuff around the Gym, but I train with one of the other coaches. Mr. Laborn."

Mr. Hebert nodded at that, and he seemed to relax further. It looked like he had put something together. "Is that mainly where you work?"

I shook my head. "I've helped out around the place, but I've done deliveries, other repairs, and some auto work for one of the people who coordinated things after the blackout. Mrs. Gartenberg."

That got an immediate reaction from Mr. Hebert. "Is that Miriam Gartenberg?"

I blanched. "I'm not sure. I don't think anyone ever mentioned her first name. She's a short, older woman, uh, she managed a lot of the stuff and baked…"

"Miriam Gartenberg." He said with confidence, and there was a knowing look in his eyes. Oh God, was he going to call to check up on me? From his expression I'd bet he was. At least I think I was safely within Mrs. Gartenberg's good books, but it did leave me wondering just how well connected and respected was that woman?

His demeanor shifted slightly and I got a sense the interrogation portion of the discussion had concluded. "Thank you again for helping Taylor. She's not been having the easiest time lately and I'm glad people have been there for her."

"It's no problem Mr. Hebert. Uh, I've only seen her a few times, and I didn't even know her last name until today." I admitted.

"I could tell it meant a lot to her, hearing about her mother like that." He smiled softly. "And please, after everything you've done, call me Danny."

There was a pinging sensation in my brain that felt like a piano wire snapping. "Uh, Mr. Hebert, I'm not sure I can do that. I've even been having some trouble not referring to Taylor as 'Professor Hebert's daughter'."

That brought a smile to his lips, not the sad nostalgic smiles he'd been wearing, but something with actual mirth. "Really?"

I nodded in embarrassment. "To be honest, when I found out who Taylor was I realized I'd still assumed she was in eighth grade. Your wife only mentioned her a few times, and I never really thought about what happened."

A bit of sadness tinged the mirth, but didn't banish it completely. "I might be a bit guilty of that myself. Kids seem to grow so much when you aren't looking." I caught an edge of regret in his tone.

This was a delicate topic, but I probably wouldn't have a better chance to ask. "Taylor mentioned she was having trouble at school. She didn't go into details, but there was something bad a while ago?"

The man's face turned suddenly ashen. "I understand her not wanting to talk about it. She'd been having trouble for a while and at the start of the term there was an incident." He spat the last word. "Taylor was in the hospital afterwards, and the school promised to step in and make sure things change, but I don't think…"

He trailed off and I understood why. Trusting a school administration to manage things, to correct a situation they let develop in the first place, that was a serious long shot. Without legal requirements or the threat of serious litigation nothing would be done.

"Mr. Hebert, if there's anything I can do to help… I mean, with anything, please let me know." I swallowed. "Anything I can do, even if you just need a mechanic…"

"Thank you. I appreciate that, and it's… It's good to know Annette still means that much to people." His voice wavery, but he seemed calmer than when I first saw him. He glanced towards the door and smiled.

"Come in Taylor. I'll pour you some tea."

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, small talk, and discussions of Taylor's other 'friends'. Mr. Hebert would be going back to work tomorrow, no doubt facilitating Taylor sneaking out to my meeting with the Undersiders. The talk was lighthearted, and I mostly took a back seat and let Taylor catch up with her father. They even shared some stories about Professor Hebert, and somehow I got the sense that was a significant event for the pair.

Taylor saw me to the door as Mr. Hebert cleared up the dishes. "Thank you." Professor Hebert's daughter looked both relieved and uncomfortable at the same time. "I know it was awkward, but I think… I mean, it's been hard for…"

"I get it." I assured her. Whatever problems were in play something like this wouldn't fix them, but it might be a step towards something healthier for both of them. "I'll call Lisa later, check in about things. She'll probably fill you in."

"Right." She nodded. "I'll see you later. And thank you."

It felt weird being thanked for something that also seemed so minor. I didn't really do anything but show up and exist. I got the sense the dynamic there wasn't that healthy. There was a sense of the parental distance that comes from not knowing how to handle something. I was familiar with that particular dynamic and the problems it could cause.

As I pulled away the Celestial Forge missed a connection with the Knowledge constellation. I drove out of the residential area of the Docks towards my own neighborhood and left my car at the gym before returning to my apartment.

I felt drained from the entire experience, but also kind of lighter. It was intense and not exactly comfortable, but it had made a difference. Things that had been bothering me, constantly lurking on the edge of my consciousness while I avoided looking at them because I had no idea how to deal with them? Suddenly they seemed manageable. Not everything had been dealt with, but enough had that I was feeling confident in my ability to at least manage the rest of them. I actually felt like I could handle my problems.

When was the last time I had felt like that? Everything had seemed so insurmountable for so long, with fresh hell getting piled on top of slightly less fresh hell. Now I had a way through. I had a hard road ahead of me, and not everything had an easy solution, but I at least felt I could deal with it.

It wasn't until I opened the workshop that I realized the big difference. That strained feeling I'd had since I woke up was gone. Whatever spiritual equivalent of overexertion I'd been laboring under, the events of the day had addressed it.

I wasn't sure exactly when the feeling had departed. There was definitely still a good amount there when I left the workshop, but it wasn't as bad when I woke up. Was that the events of the morning, or just a natural recovery? Either way, the discussion with Taylor and her father had addressed things. I don't know if that was actually some kind of 'spiritual revival' thing, or if interacting with people had some kind of equivalent nurturing effect, but I did know I felt like I had recovered.

More than recovered. I felt better. The exact way Elven Enchantment worked was a bit nebulous, but there was a metaphysical component. Not like a gas tank, more like a kind of spiritual strength. The sight of those trees, the unbelievable, unearthly beauty of that light, that was my biggest source of that kind of strength, but it wasn't my only one. I could draw strength from other parts of my life as well.

It seemed this was another situation where dealing with my shit was going to have to be a priority. You couldn't exert spiritual strength if you were an unfocused indecisive mess. If I ever wanted to be able to sing to the unseen I would need to get comfortable with myself.

Also get over my fear of singing in public. Serene Sinatra may have drastically increased my singling skills, but I still wasn't secure enough to actually try it out. Maybe once I was confident enough in my spirit to be able to attempt the third level of enchanting I could give it a try, but for now I wasn't ready to start belting out the top 40.

Opening the door reestablished the link with my computer core, allowing Fleet and Survey to update themselves with newly collected data. Through my neural link I was able to review the status of the workshop. It seemed my last set of duplicates had spent some time improving the networking of different systems. I could remotely access critical pieces of the workshop equipment, both the Garage and Hangar, and even some of the labs.

There wasn't a hard link to the Laboratorium at yet. Those ancient computers were still frighteningly advanced and even though the machine spirit A.I.s present weren't the kind to exponentially advance themselves and run out of control, they were still incredibly sophisticated and optimized programs. The rest of my systems weren't really ready for that kind of exposure.

Also, they could be really opinionated at times. Like, really opinionated. Cantankerous would probably be the way to put it. I guess that comes with running several thousand years of optimization routines on a confined system, but there was a real sense that the sun would burn out long before I could shift a decision made by any of the older machine spirits in that lab.

I picked my way into the workshop, taking the familiar route to the Alchemist's Laboratory. It was the familiar pattern of getting a set of duplicates out as quickly as possible, then figuring out what we were supposed to do. It was a weird division of responsibility considering I was just pawning off decisions on other versions of myself.

I stopped dead when I got to the lab. I knew the lab upgraded itself based on my skill level. As my powers granted me new knowledge and abilities the lab grew larger, added equipment, and even supplied additional reagents. I had seen it upgraded with everything from interior gardens to space age chemistry equipment. I knew I should expect an upgrade to account for the possibilities of my new alchemical knowledge.

I just hadn't expected the cages.

The section of the laboratory with the transmutation circles had expanded substantially. Simplified Formulae had given me a basic understanding of the craft, mostly focused with improving the efficiency of the transmutation arrays. Alkahestry granted me an entirely new way to sense the world, allowed healing, and facilitated ranged transmutation that was possible to use in combat. Advanced Formulae covered the rest of it.

I just didn't expect it to be so horrible.

Human transmutation, hell, the transmutation of any living creature was a massive risk in all schools of alchemy. Alkahestry dipped its toe into the concept with the sensing of life energy and healing arts, but there was basically nothing I could do to a living creature when I just had Simplified Formulae. They were too complex and advanced to even dream of attempting a transmutation.

Advanced Formulae opened things up immensely. I wasn't limited to basic shapes and recombining simple compounds. My understanding of the three stages of transmutation, comprehension, deconstruction, and reconstruction, had expanded to the highest levels of the art. I could create machinery in an instant, use alchemy in combat, and even affect living beings.

That was what this lab was set up for. There was a higher-level aspect of this art that used living creatures to produce something of immense importance. I didn't know what the end goal was, but my skill was enough to work towards it, meaning my lab was set up to accommodate the research. And from the shape of the equipment I was willing to bet it was intended for humans.

To say I was uncomfortable with this was an understatement. Even the small area clearly designed for animal subjects was stomach churning to look at. I had been happy about this power. Instant fabrication, shaker-like combat, and the ability to seriously advance production on every level. Instead I was greeted by this.

It was apparent my power didn't take moral stances. It wasn't asking me to use this equipment, it was just providing the opportunity. Really, I couldn't even tear it out. The lab was fiat backed and would restore itself if anything was removed. At best I could rearrange it to minimize the implications.

I tore myself away from the deeply unsettling addition and moved to down a duplication potion. When my duplicates stepped out the first looked back at me and said what we were all thinking.

"Fuck."

I let out a single dry laugh. "That's about it. Damn it, I was actually feeling optimistic before this came down on me."

"Yeah, I get it." The second added. "But it's not that bad. Fucked up, sure, but unethical science is all over the place. Just because we have the facilities for it doesn't mean we're under any obligation to entertain the idea."

"He's right." The first added. "At our level transmutation is strong enough without whatever that crap is working towards. We don't need to entertain it, and we're not avoiding a power this useful just because the higher-level stuff is twisted."

I looked over at a ten-pointed circle with chains attached at each point. Twisted was right. Still they, or I, had a point.

"We'll clear this up as best we can." The second offered. "You go check on Garment, maybe take care of the call with Tattletale?"

I nodded and left them to the lab. Through some mercy my duplicates were only insufferable during good or at least neutral times. They never moved to kick me when I was down, which I appreciated. As much as my duplicates' tendency to mess with me gave me concerns about my mental state, the fact that they knew when to stop was also reassuring.

I found Garment in her textile area working at a newly added set of monitors with some complicated editing software being run by Survey. When she saw me, she waved me over and made some inquiring gestures.

"Oh, it went really well." I considered if I should share details, then decided Garment was probably the safest confidant. "I actually knew her mother. She was one of my professors in college. My faculty advisor."

Garment made an interested gesture, then signaled something to Survey which resulted in a series of video clips being reshuffled.

"She died in my second year. Car accident. I think it hit her and her father really hard. I don't know all the details, but it probably had something to do with the lead up to her trigger."

Garment looked sympathetic and gestured for me to continue.

"I'm going to try to help her. Like, both with the other stuff and in general. We'll see how it goes after tomorrow's meeting."

With that Garment excitedly gestured to the screen and survey brought up a bunch of screenshots from Uber and Leet's Saturday broadcast. Specifically, still shots of the Undersiders during the later stages of the fight. She drew attention to Regent's burned costume, Gure's shredded and incomplete motorcycle leathers, Tattletale's costume with large portions missing, and Taylor, who looked the most collected of the group, but who Garment obviously had some issues with.

"Oh, I don't know if they've replaced their costumes yet." Garment perked up in excitement. "But even if they haven't, I'm not sure you'll be able to do it."

It hurt to see Garment's expression of confusion at the idea.

"Look, you're just getting set up…" Survey pinged my implant and displayed the same information on one of the screens. Garment's account had been set up, along with official I.D.s and legal paperwork that could be collected at the central office. I guess proof of identity wasn't a big concern for her. There was also a note about approval for various small business loans and inquiries from a local real-estate company.

Garment somehow managed to look smug in the face of the information.

"Alright, you're mostly set up, but this is a delicate period. If you get started making clothes for supervillains that could taint you by association." She made a nebulous gesture and I got her meaning. "Doing it anonymously might work, but people have ways of digging into these things. Plus, your designs aren't exactly subtle."

Garment actually looked proud of that statement, but kept expressing concern towards the images on the screen. I had the feeling she didn't want me associating with anyone insufficiently attired. Also, that no matter what I said on the matter there would at minimum be a half dozen concept sketches for new versions of each of their costumes, and probably prototypes made in her spare time.

"Look, we can come back to this." Garment's body language suggested agreement, but also that this was far from decided. "What are you working on here?"

It turned out Garment had taken the lack of ability to directly stream as an opportunity to move into more complicated forms of media. Specifically, edited content. What was being assembled was a near feature length YouTube video titled 'The Construction of a Late Regency Evening Gown Using Historic Techniques (Hand Sewn)"

As I guessed, Survey had come up with the title.

I watched a little of the introduction as the Forge missed a connection to the Magitech constellation. It was fairly well put together, which I'm guessing was Garment's influence. Survey was doing an excellent job, but this was new ground for her and she didn't have the best sense of pacing or how to transition.

Maybe we should start doing a movie night? Hell, if we viewed them in the throne we could get through most films in less than five minutes. That could actually be really useful for the A.I.s' development, not in terms of raw information of optimization, but in terms of giving context to situations.

I made a few recommendations to the edit of the video and left it to Garment to upload. I doubt it would be much use as an instructional video considering the speed and skill level Garment was working at, but with her showmanship there was an entertainment value in just watching a dress like that come together.

A quick check showed my duplicates were still working in the Alchemist's Laboratory, but the worst of the additions were being relocated to less prominent positions. I would never be able to prevent my Laboratory from having holding cells, but at least we could avoid the impression that human experimentation was a regular occurrence.

I slipped into my office and found one of the duplicates had repaired the desk. And also made a few subtle improvements to the rest of the décor reflective of the change in skill level from the time it had been constructed.

Without constant upgrades there was a kind of speckled effect in my workshop from the combination of original equipment, early upgrades, and late upgrades with everything having visibly different quality. Anything that got too obtrusive was dealt with by one of the duplicates in their 20% time, but that usually involved the addition of some novelty or inside joke.

I settled into the chair and brought up my omni-tool, secured the line, and called Tattletale's number from the emulated sim card of my 'work phone'.

"Hello Joe." She picked up on the second ring and didn't sound quite as stressed as the last time I spoke with her.

"Hello Lisa. I spoke with Taylor. We've sorted things out." There was a pause, then I heard a long sigh of relief over the line.

"Good to hear." There was a rustling in the background. "And I feel weird for having to say this, but thank you for not rushing out in the middle of the night with some crazy superweapon."

I grinned a little sardonically at that. "No problem. Happy to do nothing any time."

There was a huff and I heard her mutter "if only" before she continued.

"I've got things set up for the meeting tomorrow. Are you good to come by the hideout at noon?" She asked. I got a sense she was either drawing things out, or balancing a lot of other factors.

"No problem." I didn't particularly like Tattletale, but I wanted this to come together as much as she did. There was no reason to make thing difficult.

"Right. And just to confirm, you aren't going to be asking for a cash payment when you show up?" Her voice sounded confident, but not smug. She wasn't pushing her luck on this.

"Well, is there any way you'd be able to cover even the lowest estimate for that work?" There was silence on the line. "No, I won't be asking for cash. We can sort this out with jobs and other stuff like that."

"I figured, but it will be good to confirm that to the rest of the team." I suppose being indentured with a measure of freedom was better than having debt collectors hunting you down. "I'll let you know if anything changes, but otherwise I'll see you tomorrow." She cleared her throat. "And please, hold off on the gangs until then."

"No problem. See you tomorrow." The call ended and it was nice to reflect on the fact that for once I wasn't explaining myself to a Tattletale half an inch from meltdown. After the mess that was Taylor's situation a high-pressure debt negotiation with a group of supervillains seemed positively relaxing.

Actually, considering my only goal for this was for them not to get themselves killed in the next few days I felt pretty good about my chances. As long as I didn't push hard enough for the team to collapse I would be good, and I could avoid that just from creative allocation of debt.

I took a moment to review the rest of my agenda. Things kept piling up to the point where even two duplicates weren't enough to manage them. I made a quick decision and I headed for the entryway. There I found a new locker with a lab coat and small energy pistol.

The pistol was a stubby weapon with a rounded rectangular barrel wrapped around a focusing emitter. By all accounts not a particularly impressive firearm in terms of damage, though fairly reliable even without the advantage of my powers, and easy to manufacture or modify.

The real gem was the ammunition. It was in highly limited supply, but the pistol drew power from a small yellow and black cylinder. I could tell what it was even without the advantage of my demigod senses, immense technical knowledge, or advanced scanning systems. That was because it was printed on the side.

Fusion cell.

The laser gun was powered by a tiny fusion reactor that could fit into something roughly the size of a D battery. It put out 1040.8 volts, DC, and had enough energy for thirty shots. I had other power sources, but nothing as cheap, simple, and versatile as this.

I moved into the Laboratorium where I was once again welcomed by the electronic chirps of the skulls and now the digital greetings of the machine spirits. It took barely a moment for the skulls to discover the new technology and after repeated insistent prodding I handed over the weapon and power supply for scanning.

The weapon was useful enough, though not particularly impressive by the Laboratorium's standards. The real meat came from the breakdown of the fusion cell. It used a series of hydrogen isotopes and was able to sustain a fusion reaction and provide an electrical current from the results, all within a tiny casing.

Once again, the Laboratorium was not particularly impressed with the technology, but studiously documented it anyway. I also received compliments on the lab coat, though with the suggestion that it would look better in red.

The coat was an interesting thing. There was nothing technically advanced about it, and it wasn't magical in any way, but there was a certain effect tied to it. Wearing the coat made it easier to focus, at least concerning technical subjects. It would normally have been too subtle to notice, but with repeated monitoring as I donned and removed the item of clothing there was definitely an effect.

It was kind of like that feeling you get when you wear a more professional outfit and you change your behavior to account for it, compared to when you're lounging around the house in more comfortable clothes. It was like someone took that effect and amplified it to give tangible results.

I had no idea exactly how strong the effect was or if it could be duplicated. It was a useful thing to have on hand, and putting on a lab coat when entering my workshop did feel more sciencey, which was actually the entire basis of the effect. No matter how this worked, I was convinced Garment would have the entire matter thoroughly explored in short order.

After taking some time to review the rest of the Laboratorium's findings I moved to refresh the duplication potion. The more disturbing aspects of the additions to the lab had been shifted aside in a way that made them nearly unnoticeable, and my duplicates had provided an extensive number of alchemical notes before they left for their 20% time.

The full range of transmutation available was seriously impressive, and that was just at the entry level. There were recommendations for multiple avenues of research concerning energy balances, temperature manipulation, aggressive deconstruction arrays, and rapid phase shifting.

The extent of this power's versatility was evident in how the workshop had been continuously rumbling since the duplicate's 20% time began. Survey was very helpful in providing me with updated maps documenting the addition of hallways, elevator shafts, and entire rooms.

I took it with good humor and downed another potion as the duplicates vanished from my digital awareness.

"Right, critical projects?" I asked them.

"Taylor's gear and nanotech improvement?" The first replied. This close to the duplication there wasn't much chance of having different objectives, but I preferred to check anyway.

"I'll hit the nanotech lab." The second offered.

"And I can start on design plans for equipment." The first echoed.

I nodded. "Right, and I'll…"

"Aisha would like to speak with you."

All three of us looked towards Survey's hologram in dread. Upgrades to the workshop's network meant floating drones weren't strictly necessary. Both A.I.s could generate holograms of their avatars anywhere the network reached. Survey seemed to enjoy the experience, though I'd mainly seen Fleet use it to generate holographic pace cars for his scaled down Formula 1 races.

Both duplicates turned towards me with an expression suggesting they were very glad not to be me at that moment.

"I guess I'll take this call." They gave me a sympathetic nod, then vanished off into the workshop. I took a breath before pulling up the link to Aisha on my omni-tool.

"Alright, what's wrong?" I asked.

"What? Why are you assuming something is wrong?" She said in an indignant tone.

"Because you called me?" My reply didn't go over well.

"Nothing's wrong. It's just…" she glanced to the side and looked apprehensive.

'Nothing wrong'. Right. "Just what?" I asked.

"MydadwantstomeetGarment." She blurted out the words so fast I could barely understand them.

I took a moment to process her jumbled statement. When I finally parsed it, I decided I couldn't have possibly heard that correctly. "I'm sorry, what?"

She chewed on her lip before replying. "Okay, so my dad got out of the hospital today and, well, you know how Garment's stuff is different from what I usually wear?"

"Just a bit." I said sarcastically, remembering her denim shorts, fishnets, and tube top combination. Based on the logs from the emergency incinerators I think Garment might have actually burned that when nobody was looking.

"Well he noticed, obviously" she confessed.

"And you told him about Garment?" I honestly expected better from Aisha.

"Not at first, but he checked the others and saw the label. He had heard about it from the gym, so I had to come up with something." She looked more than a little embarrassed by the situation.

I sighed. Apparently I should have expected better from Garment, though trying to stop her from taking pride in her work was probably a lost cause. "So, what did you tell him?"

"I said I ran into Garment near the gym and she made me the clothes."

"And he bought that?" I asked.

"Not for that many outfits." She sighed. "I told him she was opening a shop soon and wanted me to help. That's what the outfits were for."

That was actually remarkably believable. "And he wants to meet her?"

"Yeah, said if I'm going to be working for her he wants to meet her first." She shifted nervously. "Probably wants to thank her as well."

"What? Why?" I asked.

"Because he really likes the outfits." She yelled. "Like, compared to what I used to wear. He's complimented me on them like five times already. It's weird."

"I though you liked those dresses?"

"Well, not if my dad does as well." She pulled at the hem of the fitted blouse she was wearing. "This was his least favorite, and he still says it looks smart."

I sighed. Once again, reminded that she was thirteen years old. "Alright. I'll talk to Garment. She can probably set something up. We're probably going to have a location for her in a couple of days, so does your dad have a cell phone she can text?"

"Yeah, I gave it to Survey." The hologram smiled and displayed a string of numbers.

"Okay. Tell your dad she'll set something up, and we'll go from there. We can probably play it as you not being a good fit for the job and get you out that way." I offered.

"Um," Aisha stammered. "Actually, I wouldn't mind helping out. I mean, if she needs it and it's okay." She raised a hand and ran it along the diamonds decorating her hair clip. "I know it's not a problem with Ren helping me, but it was a big deal when she could see me. If she needs help getting set up, or anything like that, I'd like to pitch in."

I was surprised by the offer, but did my best not to show it. "I'll talk to Garment, see what she needs. Right now, I'm not even sure what the store is going to look like, but we can figure something out."

She smiled at that. "Thanks. And thank Garment for me too."

"I will. I'm glad your dad is doing better."

She rolled her eyes. "Like anything could keep that man down."

I returned a grin. "Right. I'll talk to you later."

"Later." She quipped with a smile.

I let out a long breath as the phone disconnected. This would be another mess to deal with. Was it safe for Aisha to be publicly with a cape? I mean, publicly associated? Garment wasn't likely to be stirring many pots, and she'd probably have a few employees. I wasn't sure what the child labor laws were or exactly what Aisha would be doing.

I turned to the hologram. I could do this digitally, but Survey seemed to be trying to develop language and interaction skills, so it felt right to indulge that.

"Could you update Garment on the situation and start compiling relevant legal codes related to operating a boutique and employing a minor?" I asked.

Survey's avatar smiled. "I would be happy to. I will begin at once."

The hologram blinked out and I detected activity through the network as she went about her tasks. Once again, difficult but manageable. I could deal with this. It was a good feeling, not being overwhelmed by life.

I felt the Celestial Forge move again, with the Quality constellation swinging closer. I had built up to my highest level of reach once again, but every time I'd hit this point a smaller mote consumed a portion of it, taking me back down to a moderate level.

That didn't happen this time. One of the largest motes in the constellation swung towards me. In a horrible wrenching feeling every ounce of reach was torn away. The power involved was like nothing I had experienced before. I could actually feel the interplay of forces at work as the immense amount of energy pulled against my power's attempts to secure it.

I had badly underestimated the strength of the larger motes. These weren't normal powers. These were game changers. I watched the mote strain against my power like a tethered star. Slowly, ever so slowly, my reach pulled it out of position. The rest of the Quality constellation swung off into the distance and a mote of light with the force of a supernova descended upon me.

And it fell.

…there is more to the world than you would think. Even what we understand of the multiverse isn't exactly right. The universe isn't a single existence. There are textures to reality, the main side that we encounter every day, and the reverse side of the world. The side that exists beneath the thin layer of conventional physics that govern 'normal' reality.

I don't know how I got here. I imagine I was taken, that my existence was facilitated somehow. This wasn't a place for humans.

My presence here was a mystery, but a mystery with a purpose. The land around me was sweet. An impossibly perfect island, lush and green with distant forests and fields or untrodden grass. This was a place that had never seen the hand of man.

Until now.

That's why I was here. My hands worked, they crafted and shaped the material under the tutelage of a being I couldn't even begin to comprehend. A being as old as time, manifested from the will of the planet itself, and solely directed towards me. The person, creature, entity, was an immense, overwhelming wellspring of will and power.

It was a faerie. One of the great Faeries, creatures that had as much to do with images of flower sprites as campfire sparks had to do with an exploding galaxy. It was beyond power, and it was here, watching me work.

This land was beyond decay, beyond age, beyond time. Not just removed from them, the very concepts didn't exist in this place. I worked, each attempt gradually improving. My hands learned faster than my head could follow. I was learning a principle, not a practice. Every iteration, every attempt got closer. Movements shifted slightly, binding more of the impossible nature of the place into my work.

Days of spring sunlight and the smell of summer shifted into nights of autumn winds and the stars of winter. I worked through them all. This place, it was beyond sleep, beyond weariness. My tutor changed and I worked. An entire pantheon of greater fey observed my practice, offered instruction, and smiled at my improvement.

I worked by the light of twilight spilling into dawn. I worked under the pure light of midday. I worked as the sun dipped into a well of amber gold that spilled across the sky. I worked as the purple velvet of evening faded into the clear radiance of a night full of diamond stars.

And then I did it again.

And again.

There was no boredom, no frustration, no dulling of interest. That would have taken time, and time did not exist here. Not in anything like the traditional sense anyway. I worked for what might have been a week and what might have been the lifetime of the universe.

And then I was done.

I understood the result, not the process. My hands understood the process. They knew what had been done, and through countless repetitions, improvements unto infinity, they had done it. There was no more work needed.

My work was complete. More attempts than could fit into mortal memory had led to one perfect creation, an object so perfect that it couldn't have been created by mortal hands.

Because it wasn't.

With the confirmation of the quality of my work I was presented with the script. The Fairy Letters that could mark an item of only the highest quality. The proof of my skill in creation. The certification of my work as truly beyond the capability of mortal man.

I gasped, propping myself up on the counter of the laboratory. The memories from this power weren't like the others. They weren't fading. I don't think they could ever fade. I looked down at my hands, barely recognizing them. There was power there. Unbelievable power, past what any human could accomplish.

Power that had been brutally forced into me.

I shuddered at the experience. I'd had memories inserted before, but they were just that, memories. They weren't me. I didn't think I actually lived as an alien robot, or fought an interstellar war, or trained for years with British spy technicians. They were fabrications that happened to involve some vague approximation of me. But this…

This had actually happened.

Not right now. I hadn't just been spirited off to fairy land to learn how to make things properly. It was like with my implant, it showed up having been there for years.

At some point in my life I had been taken. I had been taught by faeries. And now anything I made by hand was a GREAT deal better than anything a human could make.

The power was called Master Craftsman. That name may have been the greatest understatement in the entire Celestial Forge. It applied to anything I made by hand, and scaled based on how much of it counted as having been hand made by me.

I could assemble an Ikea set and because my hand was doing the work it would see improvement. A noticeable improvement, but nothing beyond what furniture is capable of. I didn't make the boards, I didn't make the fasteners, I didn't paint the parts. Every point where another hand or machine contributed to the construction diminished the effect I could have.

It was nothing like what would happen if I made something entirely by hand. With nothing else directing the tools I could bind forces that I barely understood into the construction. The result… well, it wouldn't be human. It was beyond the work of mortals. Something no man could create. That was what the fairy letters were for. When I made something entirely by hand it wouldn't be part of the human world anymore.

It would become a Divine Construct.

I almost laughed. I had just received a mastery of alchemy. Transmutation on a level I only dreamed of before. The ability to instantly create anything I could imagine out of anything I could understand. And suddenly, a new power made it so that the only way to achieve the true heights of my skill was to work by hand.

Alchemy wasn't obsolete, it just wasn't going to be producing my best equipment. At most I would be using it to prepare materials, rapidly build less critical items, or for its multitude of combat applications. It really says something about my power when I receive complete control over the shape and nature of matter and find it eclipsed within a couple of hours.

The Time constellation passed by while I was processing the implications of my latest power. The experience, an untold amount of time spent repeatedly working to try to achieve perfection, it was the kind of thing that should have bothered me. On the surface level it was way too close to a lot of personal experiences, but the actual details were a different story.

The great Faeries had no malice behind their actions. There was no derision in response to mistakes, no judgement. They knew I was human. Making human works was no mark against me. And every improvement, every success, every little victory had been noted. Acknowledged. There was no reason to diminish achievement or undersell an accomplishment. No indication that I shouldn't feel proud of my accomplishments.

The experience was jarring due to its suddenness, its blatant intrusion into my life. In terms of what I actually went through it was less concerning than a lot of my other powers. If not for the fact that I KNEW it had happened it might have been one of the more pleasant powers I'd received.

This was the real force of the Celestial Forge. Not slight improvements in fabrication time or scraps of mechanical knowledge. This was one of the great motes, the burning stars that dwarfed everything else. The true power.

The idea of it, the sheer number of powers like this waiting for me, it was both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying.

My musings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps moving towards the Alchemist's Lab. I turned to see my duplicates take a few shaky steps into the room.

"Hey." I offered lamely.

"Uh, hi." I could see the weight of this power on both of them.

"We wanted to check, uh, you doing alright?" I turned to the second and shrugged.

"Probably about as well as you." I quipped.

That got me a smile. "That bad, huh?"

I only shrugged in response. "I guess we knew something like this was coming. If minor powers can hit as hard as they do, then the big guns…"

"Yeah." The first responded. "Hopefully they won't all be like this."

I gave a light nod and let a moderately comfortable silence settle over us.

The silence made it very easy to hear the clatter of high heels running across the workshop floor at a speed that would be suicide for anyone not independently animating their footwear. The three of us turned to see Garment burst into the Laboratory and rush over to me.

"Hi Garment." I waved off her concern. "Yes, I'm fine. It was just a big shock. A really big shock."

Garment looked relieved, but also somewhat anxious. I noticed she was holding her sketchbook and smiled.

"Garment, how much of this is personal concern and how much is you wanting to use my new power to make clothing beyond the level of mortal skill?" I asked in a wry voice.

Garment made an extensive show of displaying her absolute horror at the idea and probably how I should be ashamed for even suggesting it. I gave her a level look until the theatrics petered out and she reluctantly indicated that it was about 50/50.

"Right." I gave her a warm smile. "I have a bunch of stuff to take care of, but put together some ideas and we can try them out later."

Garment perked in excitement, but gave one last concerned gesture before she left. "Yes, I'm fine. You can go."

"He is." The first offered.

"Don't worry," Assured the second. "We'll look after him."

She waved in thanks to both the duplicates before departing to her personal studio. I let out a breath as she left.

"So, what's first?" The second duplicate asked.

I shook my head. "This is a complete upheaval. Pretty much everything needs to be replanned to involve as much hand crafting as possible."

"Won't that be fun?" The first quipped. "Any idea how you build a quantum entanglement communicator by hand?"

"Not unless we can rig the micromanipulators to be about a billion times more accurate." The second offered.

"Hey, can I leave that to you two?" I asked.

They nodded. "Sure, we'll plan things out. What are you going to tackle?"

I gave them a grim smile. "I'm going online. Been leaving this too long. Time to see what I can accomplish by actually talking to people."

The first returned my smile. "Well, it worked today. Maybe you'll get lucky and keep the streak going."

"Yeah." The second added. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

I gave him a sour glare as both duplicates burst into laughter. God, he better not have jinxed me. Shaking my head, I left them to their work and headed for the computer throne.

It was time to go online.

Addendum Chris

Chris scrunched his nose as he trailed behind Dauntless. Three days after the fire and the rig still smelled like burning metal. He didn't know what kind of technology had been used to upgrade the drilling platform and move it to the bay, but whatever they'd treated the structure with became especially pungent when burned.

Some of that was probably the residue of the weirder bomb blasts. Oni Lee had been keeping things more conventional than what Bakuda had used at the storage center, but there were still outliers. Parts of the rig that were melted, or looked like someone had scooped them out with an ice cream scoop. Pools of some kind of green slime, and walls with spider-like patterns of electrical burns.

This wasn't what they had sent him here for, but it was what drew his attention. Unlike Dean or Carlos, he had never worked from the Rig. The Wards were already operating out of the PRT headquarters when he joined a year and a half ago. Maybe it would have made a difference, being in the same building as Armsmaster, having another tinker to work with.

Maybe, but somehow Chris doubted it.

Dauntless floated up to a higher level where the stairs had been taken out. Chris engaged the repulsor in his greaves and covered the distance in one leap, launching away from the stink of the lower levels. The Protectorate hero looked back at him and smiled. He wasn't checking on him, not after this many successful jumps. It made Chris feel a glimmer of pride.

He still felt awful about the bank. That disaster and the aftermath… it was terrible. Worse, it was mostly his fault. He had been so proud, so excited to show off his Alternator Cannon. The one brilliant thing he had built after two weeks on a medication that made him a dizzy, anxious and nauseous wreck. So excited to show it off he didn't even think.

When he read the transcripts he saw it. Apeiron called him out specifically. How he escalated things, how he was betting the Undersiders wouldn't hurt their hostages even when he was deploying an A-class weapon against them. That they cared more about civilian lives than he did.

Maybe if he had left the cannon in his lab things wouldn't have gone so wrong. The Undersiders could have still gotten away, but they'd still have Aegis. Maybe even still have Dean.

That burned him. The suit sliced up, all the work he put into it gone, and he couldn't do anything about it. He was under lock down, no new construction. He couldn't make the parts he would need to fix it even if he had the time to spare. So his friend was off trying to find a better tinker while he sorted junk.

There was the glimmer of hope. Even after his hoverboard had been sliced apart he'd been able to salvage the components, keep everything functional. His jury rigged thruster gauntlets and repulsor greaves were working better than his hoverboard ever had. He could actually move now, make himself a difficult target mid fight rather than floating above the battlefield like the world's least effective gun platform.

He couldn't exactly fly, but he was finding new applications all the time. After working in a couple of cores from a failed kinetic pistol he had enough strength to skim along the ground, or even water.

That's right. Rather than be hauled out here he'd made it on his own power, riding the waterline like a hovercraft.

"Need a break?" Dauntless asked. The sun was starting to sink over the city, and it was a spectacular view from the Rig.

"Sure." Chris replied. "I think we're down to the communications tower, secondary power core, and what's left of Armsmaster's lab."

"We're making good time." He settled down on an outcrop of steel and Chris joined him. "I'm glad we were able to get you out here."

Dauntless was sincere in his praise, and Chris appreciated it, but being good at something like this seemed like a mixed blessing. It just confirmed what he'd been worried about since he was able to salvage his board.

The Protectorate needed someone to survey the damage at the Rig. Because of all the tinker systems that meant they either sent him, waited for Armsmaster to get back on his feet, or called for outside help. Apparently they decided he would be better than nothing, or at least better than something that would add a week-long delay, at best.

But looking around at the damaged systems he was seeing it. He could assess the damage, that was true, but more than that he could see how to isolate the damaged components, modify them to work together, and combine them into something new.

That really drove home what he'd been dreading. Kid Win, golden tinker, the boy who styled himself off of Hero himself, was a garbage tinker.

All the problems he'd been struggling with, the lack of focus, the dyscalculia, the unfinished projects, none of it mattered with this approach. He could take his broken tech, his half-finished projects, his trash, and combine them into something new. Looking around he could see how to do it with the Rig's systems. It would need a little more modification, but after that he could throw it into the garbage pile and start working.

It was the horrible feeling of finally learning his specialization and being ashamed of it.

"Something bothering you?" Dauntless asked. He must have been showing something on his face. Chris quickly schooled his features, but it was clear it wouldn't help at this point. He sighed and turned to the Protectorate hero.

"It's just, I've really screwed up recently. The bank was just…" He didn't know how to continue. His body still ached from that fall, and that felt justified. If he was responsible for that mess then it was for the best that he had missed Panacea.

Instead he'd had to get normal treatment, with all his injuries documented by the Youth Guard woman. Apparently that was standard practice, but for anything bad they'd always had Amy drop by before they needed any major treatment. He'd never even seen the major injury form before.

Of course, Amy was unavailable after her meeting with Apeiron. That new tinker, that good tinker, had been making waves since the moment he arrived.

"The bank wasn't great." Dauntless admitted. "But you learned from it. You're taking your reprimand like a professional and you'll come out of it stronger. Other than that, I doubt there will be anyone who'll speak a word against you, not after the Gallery."

Kid Win smiled at that. Dennis might have been the one who got the official credit, since he was leading, but everyone got glowing reviews afterwards. It might actually have shaved a chunk of time off his tinkering lock down. He'd even submitted plans for the tech that he improvised to Dragon. That was like the biggest deal for tinkers.

"I'm glad it went so well." He replied. "We were lucky."

"No," Dauntless countered, "You were smart. You learned from earlier mistakes and did better the next time. That's the most important thing."

"That was Clockblocker. I just went along with it."

"Leaders are only as good as the people they work with. You all did your part."

It was the kind of thing that was supposed to sound cheesy, but Dauntless could always sell those lines perfectly. It actually reminded Chris of old footage of Hero's speeches.

"Hey, about leaders." He asked. "Is Weld back in command, or are they still keeping him out?"

"No, he's officially back. The time in the infirmary counts as active duty, so he had some mandatory downtime." Dauntless replied. "He spent some time calling the Boston director and his friends in a few different cities."

"Isn't he under a gag order or something?" Chris had heard about it third hand. Apparently he wasn't supposed to mention anything about Apeiron or how he got out of the bay.

"He needs to have a Protectorate or PRT agent present for his calls, but there haven't been any issues. I was there when he spoke to a friend from San Diego and they just talked about what restaurants he was looking forward to visiting when he saw her again."

Chris nodded. He knew there was more going on with Weld, but it felt like he was constantly three steps behind everyone else. That was a natural state of being a tinker. You spent so much time inside a lab you had to play catch up with the real world.

Unless you were Apeiron.

"Hey, the thing with Weld? It's not about that master stuff, is it?" Dauntless looked a bit uncomfortable at Chris's question.

"That 'master stuff' is under evaluation. The PRT is still collecting data and trying to contact the people he rescued." The cape didn't sound particularly happy with the situation.

"Right. Didn't one of them attack the agents when they tried to bring them in? I heard some of them got injured." Despite the serious nature of Chris's question Dauntless smiled in response.

"Oh, yes." He looked off at the bay as he responded. "I think that was Mrs. Masuda. Seventy-five-year-old grandmother, soon to be great grandmother. She objected when the agents arrived to take her in for assessment."

"Seventy-five?" Chris gaped. Dauntless just shrugged.

"Apparently Apeiron can heal arthritis and osteoporosis, plus a few other ailments that used to slow her down. Nobody was expecting her to be that spry." His face turned grim. "Also, she grew up in California. I think she was six years old in 1942." He looked at Chris. "You know your history?"

It took Chris a minute to put together the date, location, and nationality of the name. "Internment?" He asked. Dauntless nodded slowly.

"She was quite adamant about not coming in voluntarily. It's going to get messy." He shook his head. "Not a good move for the department, and not what the Director needed now."

Chris was a bit uncomfortable being exposed to information like this. The Protectorate had always kept things at least looking professional. Right now, an idiot could see things were falling apart. HE could see things were falling apart, but there was a difference between that and having the most powerful hero currently active in the city basically admit it to him.

"Do you think that master stuff is true? I mean, Panacea, that tech from the PRT, and all the people at the storage yard…" It wasn't a comforting thought, the idea of that many people being compromised.

"It's not that likely, but you have to see these things through." Dauntless admitted. "Master stuff, it can get tricky to assess. Just look at Canary."

"That artist who attacked her ex-boyfriend?" She wasn't really the type of singer Chris listened to, and aside from that song last summer that got way too much airplay she hadn't really been on his radar. Not until the report came out.

"That's what they thought, but one of the thinkers at Watchdog looked into the case when they were doing initial assessments on Apeiron. That's why they had to cancel the trial." Dauntless explained.

"So it wasn't as bad as they said?" Chris asked hopefully.

"No." Dauntless replied in a grave voice. "It's actually a lot worse."

"What? How?"

Dauntless shook his head. "It turns out her master effect isn't direct mind control. She makes people suggestible, and not just to her. And the effect sticks around for a while afterwards. That's how the thing with her ex-boyfriend happened." Chris nodded and Dauntless continued. "Apparently some people figured it out, and started staking out people leaving her concerts. The people who had been exposed at that level could be talked into just about anything. Some of it was stuff like selling overpriced merchandise or signing for record clubs, but some of it was a lot worse…"

Chris swallowed as he thought about what people could try with that kind of effect in play. He'd done enough patrols of the docks to run into his share of age inappropriate crimes.

"The charges have been expanded. They're covering multiple states, so it's being tried on the federal level. They're also trying to bring charges against people who took advantage of the situation, as well as the record company and concert promoter, which will lead to civil suits." He shook his head. "It will be months before they even have the full case assembled."

Chris nodded in understanding. That was a case with a confirmed master and a set of clear circumstances, and they still needed months to figure out who was affected and how. If that was how things worked they would probably take years before they had a definite answer on Apeiron.

Nobody knew what was happening with that tinker, especially not other tinkers. He'd been on the Protectorate network to see what the other tinkers were saying, and it basically amounted to a pile of nothing. Going through every frame, assessment and scrap of information on the technology just got them nowhere.

It was infuriating because something was screaming at him that shouldn't be the case. It's like his technology was a combination of basic, easy to understand mechanics, exotic physics, and something that was just impossible. That's not even getting into the question of his specialization.

You know people had nothing to go on when they start throwing around 'entertaining' theories. 'He's a tinker who works to fulfill contracts, and can build anything he needs to accomplish that'. 'He's a tinker who can build anything as long as it's immaculately designed', a particularly harsh contrast to his own newly discovered garbage specialization. 'He's a tinker who can copy other tinkers on sight', or 'not a tinker and just combines tech with a different power'. 'He builds technology that copies parahuman powers and started with Alexandria'. 'He's Alexandria and Hero's love child'.

Chris felt particularly bad about that one. Not because he idolized Hero and had any objection to the association, but because part of him wanted it to be true. As contradictory and frustrating as Apeiron was, the idea that there was still a connection to Hero out there somewhere, that he hadn't completely left them, it was something he desperately wanted to be true. No matter how unlikely it seemed. That was probably why so many other people wouldn't let the idea die.

Chris took a breath and climbed to his feet, looking out at the amber sky. "We should probably wrap things up."

"Right." Dauntless rose alongside him. "You've got a curfew, right?"

Chris scrunched his nose and gave the cape a dirty look. The man broke into laughter and Chris joined him. He shook his head and followed the man to the communication tower.

He might not be Apeiron, he might not be a great tinker, but he would do what he could to help.

It was all he could do.

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Robust Engineering (Dune) 300:

Ten thousand years of stagnation in technology is a very long time... and now you know how to apply the lessons of those millennia to the construction of anything you have. Mass production does not exist any longer and even relatively common items are made as if masterwork quality, because aside from obvious cheap items, they have been built to last longer than the person using them. Expect anything you construct by hand to be able to last centuries, as long as you take a little extra time while you make it. With the amount of time you're going to be around... you may need that sort of quality.

Secular Skills (Red Dwarf) 200:

Through growing up in a society in which religion tried to stem the natural instincts of the cat people towards vanity and good looks, you learned to craft amazing clothes and outfits from the most base materials and tools, and don't worry they all will look fantastic.

Master Craftsman (King Arthur) 600:

Thanks to being taught by faeries anything you make by hand is a great deal better than anything regular human can make. Armor is nearly indestructible and lighter than it should be, blades are sharper, blunt weapons have more force behind them, bows and crossbows can shoot farther and are easier to pull back. Even mundane items like baskets work better, though you can't give items mystical powers without being a wizard or something.