Recruitment

Chapter 1

Mark was late for his supervillain meeting. He had been fretting about this for about a month, and he was somehow still running late. He was walking briskly through one of the city’s endless supply of dingy alleyways, equipped in full costumed for the occasion. A black spandex mask that covered all his head and hair, with green lens over his eyes. The back of the mask was reinforced with some rubber polymer- not as good as a helmet, but better than nothing. His legs were covered by simple black leather pants with minor padding for his thighs and knees. Over a full sleeved skintight black shirt, he wore a Kevlar vest that was cut to suit the contours of his body. It was dyed- black again, but with green accents to hint at his powers.

He had tried to make the costume himself for about two weeks before giving in and contracting a mask maker. He didn’t regret it. Embedded within and throughout his costume was a cornucopia of devices- speakers, listening devices, cameras, sensors and more. Trailing above him was his drone, Bitbird, softly humming as it streamed its bird’s eye view to him. A constant stream of information overlaid onto his vision. A HUD, as it were, thanks to the chip implanted in his brain.

The meeting was to be held in some old factory near the edge of town. He felt outwards with his power as he approached the complex- and felt only his own devices. The area was largely abandoned it seemed, and old enough that there was nothing electronic nearby.

In the distance, he could see two men drinking and talking to each other. Not a problem, he thought. The two were facing away from him, and besides, they were probably too far away to tell that he was wearing a costume anyway.

It was the sort of place that made Mark think of tetanus boosters. There were random sheets of metal lying around, more rust than iron. There was what was once a car in the middle of the road, torn apart until the barest metal skeleton of the original car remained. The road was paved with concrete once, presumably. But now it was puckered with holes and coated with dirt and mud. There was more than a little trash littered around, and the walls were riddled with graffiti, both artistic and foul, and with hundreds of little scratches and blemishes. There was a stream of water running down the road and Mark had to maneuver himself to avoid stepping in it.

Perhaps not a bad place for a supervillain meeting. Tonally apt, he supposed. But he didn’t see what the harm was in meeting at a coffee shop like a normal person.

His HUD pointed the way- one of the smaller buildings in the factory complex. Mark had figured a factory would be just one big warehouse type building with machinery inside it, but there were smaller buildings all over the place. It was like almost like a small town. And not a pretty one. Everywhere he looked, he saw reddish brick structures in varying states of ruin, from broken glass to missing walls. Out of idle curiosity, Mark checked out the history and details of the factory. At his mental command, packets of information and data streamed from the computers embedded into his suit, to radio towers miles away. The entire area had shut down about forty years ago as production moved overseas. It had been a popular spot for drug dealers until it had been cleaned up just last year. Mark spotted a needle stuck in some mud a little distance away, being bathed in the water of the stream. Great, now I have to worry about Hepatitis as well as Tetanus.

He felt his heart quicken as he approached the building. It was unassuming, just a single floor, but tall. It was situated in the midst of a cluster of other buildings. Some kind of administrative center perhaps. Or housing for the factory workers. From the outside he could see several windows equally spaced along the walls. There was nothing to suggest the building wasn’t empty like all the others. He reached out with his power once more and felt nothing. He looked at the windows of all buildings in the area. Still nothing.

He took two deep breaths to calm himself and walked in, leaving Bitbird to hover outside, surveying the exterior.

It was dusty, and dark. Beams of light from the outside streamed through some of the broken windows, illuminating rectangular sections of the room, but most of the interior was buried in shadow. He narrowed his eyes and peered through the darkness. He couldn’t see anyone there, unless they were hiding in the shadows. Mark thought about turning on the night visi-

“Marcus Gianni”. A voice to his left. Almost behind him.

Mark flinched in surprise and immediately cursed himself for it. He whipped to his left to locate the voice. A figure standing half in darkness. He had walked right past him without noticing.

“You know my name”, Mark said. The man had figured out his identity; he tried not to scowl at that. It wasn’t a complete secret, but pretty secretive nonetheless; Mark used his power to wipe official record of his identity off various digital databases whenever he had a chance, but there were many he hadn’t been able to access. Not to mention information stored on paper and in minds. Nothing he could do about that.

“I do. Nice to meet you Mark”, the man replied. His voice was deep, but surprisingly youthful. His tone wasn’t necessarily meant to intimidate, but Mark wasn’t stupid. The man used his real name, and it was because he wanted to set a power dynamic here.

Mark started to walk over, but stopped when the man raised his hand.

“Let’s maintain a distance for now”, he said, curt.

He took a look at the speaker. He wasn’t necessarily hiding in the shadows but he wasn’t in the light either. Mark took a second to examine his recruiter. Thinker. Leader of Scalpel. Power unknown.

He was in costume as well. It was hard to make out the exact details in the dark. It didn’t help that the costume was mostly black and dark colors. He was wearing something between a trench coat and a cape, extending down until about his thighs. He wore a simple mask that covered his eyes and most of his nose, but left his mouth and chin free. The forehead of the mask had a third eye painted on it; it had a certain glassy finish to it that made it seem a bit too lifelike. Mark was reminded of those portraits whose eyes seemed to follow you no matter which direction you looked from. Suitably unnerving. He was wearing what looked like fairly impressive body armor. The armor plates- it looked like some kind of hard leather- were sharp, angular, and painted over with darker colors. He was wearing gloves which looked a bit pointed at the knuckles. He wasn’t big, but he wasn’t small either. He looked fit, and more than a little intimidating in the shadows.

Mark wasn’t sure what to say. Ask him what his starting salary would be? Did they even do salaries? Did he have to list his best and worst qualities?

The man walked over to a window near him. He picked up some papers that were on the windowsill and started looking at them. Mark caught some of his features through the light coming from the window. He had brown skin, and mild stubble. There was an easy confidence to him, but Mark could tell that he was alert, his body ready to pounce at any moment.

“Marcus Gianni AKA Technique AKA MegaHertz AKA Digitalis”, Thinker was reading the files in his hands. “I prefer Digitalis I think”, he remarked.

“I’m partial to Technique myself”, Mark replied. None of those names were his own inventions, which was a bit irritating. But he didn’t know how to publicize his chosen name, even if he could come up with one. Make a facebook post?

“Started fairly recently”, Thinker remarked, reading through the files. Mark was curious himself to see them. “You’re in… high demand.”

That’s putting it lightly, Mark thought. But he didn’t reply to that.

“Techno-Kinesis? No, that’s not the right word. Technopathy, let’s say. Impressive level of control over all electronics. From what I can tell, anything with a processing unit, you can control. Can get through most forms of encryption, given enough time. And a greater proficiency in technology that allows you to build your own cutting edge tech and software.”

Mark nodded. He wanted to know about his powers. “I don’t know if I would call it proficiency. I don’t even know any coding really. Hell, I’m not even sure how the internet works, beyond some vague intuition supplied by my power. It’s more like- like, I’m talking to the tech, and I’m very convincing. Meaning, I don’t even do anything myself, it’s like I persuade the computer or software or whatever to do what I want it to do. So I can get around most encryptions because the encrypted software thingy ‘wants’ to help me, and ignores the encryption. I mean, the software’s not alive or anything, I’m just trying to make an analogy…” he trailed off. Thinker was frowning at him, with an odd expression on his face.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“You’ve mostly been hitting ATMs, and occasionally some smaller banks”, he continued, his eyes back on the files. “And lots of petty theft I’m sure. I’m not sure why you would do that instead of just hacking into the bank proper and taking larger amounts of money”, Thinker commented. “Sorry, convincing the bank computers to give you money”, he corrected himself.

Before Mark could reply, Thinker continued, “Your power has a range”, he guessed.

Mark hesitated a second, then nodded. “I could use someone’s phone and use their bank account to interface with the bank, and maybe transfer some amounts of money, but to get any real access..”

“You would need to go right up to the bank’s computer systems”, Thinker finished. “Hmm, so your range must be shorter than I thought.”

“It’s not really a fixed range per se. Some of the more complex stuff I need to get closer for, and takes longer, but then there’s a lot of easy stuff I can do from a decent distance away.”

Thinker looked up at that. He seemed mildly surprised.

“I think twenty-something feet is my record.”

The man smiled a little. “Word of advice, Mark? Don’t tell potential enemies the specifics and the limitations of your power.”

Mark resisted the urge to smack himself. Once more, the familiar thought rushed to him: I’m really not cut out for this stuff. But he brushed it aside. More important was something the Thinker had said.

“’Potential Enemies’? I thought we’re here to see if I could join your, um, team? Listen man, I’m not here to fight.”

Again, Thinker looked genuinely surprised at that.

“Neither am I. But until we know we can trust each other, that’s exactly what we are. Potential enemies.”, he shrugged.

“Seems like a cynical way to live”, Mark remarked. He was suddenly beginning to feel a lot more tense. He hadn’t walked into this expecting to be treated like an enemy.

“I don’t expect to fight. But I have to take precautions.” And then as if to demonstrate, he pointed at Mark. It took him a second to realize he was pointing at his chest; When he looked down, there was a red dot on it that was moving ever so slightly. Sniper. Had that just appeared, or was he only now noticing it? I’m really not cut out for this.

Mark gasped. “What the fuck?”

“Just a precaution”, he repeated.

Thinker took a step forward and more light flooded over his face. Mark thought he was vaguely South Asian, though he didn’t speak with an accent. On an impulse, Mark started a facial scan. He didn’t like doing this; it was far too invasive, a bit too scary in its power. But Thinker had found out his identity and had a sniper trained on him, so Mark decided he could live with it.

It wasn’t a facial scan, really. More like an identity scan- it catalogued his voice, speaking style, face (thought half of it was covered in a mask), and a million other things, cross checking them against all the databases that Mark had access to. There was no other piece of software in the world even close to as good as his, thanks to his power. Mark hated that he had it; and he hated that he had to use it as often as he did. This alone could change the world in the wrong hands, and making things like these were entirely too easy with his power.

The HUD lit up with a name- Neel Khatri. Indian descent. 23 years old, almost 24. Born and raised in the US, served in the military. There was more information there, but now was not the time.

“I wanted this to be a peaceful meeting, Neel”. Mark tried to sound menacing. His mind was racing, looking for ways out of this. He used his power to feel out his surroundings again, looking for any sort of tech he could use. Nothing. Thinker had apparently brought nothing digital with him.

He used his drone to check out where the sniper’s beam was coming from. Not too far, just the adjacent building. But further than his range, Mark noted. Not that it mattered. He couldn’t control purely mechanical devices like guns anyway. These people are careful, Mark thought.

But there was still something strange about it. Not that Mark knew much about this stuff, but the location of the snipers’ ‘nest’ seemed odd. If Mark had happened to be standing just a few feet to the left or right, the sniper wouldn’t have had a clean shot. What would they have done then? Perhaps they had more snipers? Weird. Mark considered simply stepping out of the way, but he doubted they’d be happy about that.

Thinker still hadn’t reacted to hearing his name. He was thinking, Mark supposed.

“Should have guessed that you of all people would be able to figure out my identity”, he seemed amused.

“I’m not here to fight”, Mark repeated.

“Neither am I”, Thinker reassured him. “As I said, this is simply a precaution. You’re overreacting.”

“To a sniper rifle being pointed at me? I don’t think so.”

Thinker sighed. “To be quite honest, I’m surprised you haven’t taken precautions yourself.”

He was going to smack himself twice later.

“So what, I need to prove myself to you? Show you I’m not wearing a wire?” Mark ventured. He could just try to book it out of there. If the sniper couldn’t make the shot, he would be out of its range within a second or so; He would have to outrun Thinker but-

“You don’t need to do anything.”, Thinker said, interrupting his thoughts. “My colleague is currently verifying whether or not you’re actually a potential enemy. If everything checks out I’ll apologize for my rudeness and we’ll have a more relaxed conversation.”

Mark did a quick scan of his own devices. “Nothing digitally related to me is being tracked or infiltrated right now.”

“No, that’s not how she works. She’s pretty good at getting information, sort of like you. She’s the one who informed me of your identity. But she works differently.”

Mark had done his research. “Lucky Guess?”

Thinker nodded. “We won’t have you shot unless you deserve it.” Thinker remarked, as if that was supposed to be comforting.

When Mark didn’t respond, Thinker spoke once again. “Ok, might as well make something out of this. What are your options, then?”

“What?”

“Here you are, with a sniper rifle trained on you, and a supervillain in front of you. I know there’s no electronics nearby except the ones on your suit, and that drone of yours. Not that those are negligible of course. But they’re not going to get you out of this situation. So suppose hypothetically I was being aggressive, which, again, I am not trying to be aggressive here.” He paused. “But if I was, what would you do?”

Was this some kind of dumb interview thing?

Two deep breaths, Mark thought. I should probably think of next steps anyway.

“The sniper is at a bad angle; I could jump out the way and get free of it”, he said.

“It’s a gun. A sniper rifle. You’re not going to dodge a bullet. Something else.”

“My drone has a tranquilizer gun attached to it. I tranq your sniper and deal with you.”

“Tranquilizers take a while to kick in, and you’re not going to hit the sniper anyway. And no offense, but I doubt you can ‘deal with me’. Something else; combat isn’t the solution here.”

“Why should I tell you what my plan is, asshole? You’re the one who I’m planning to get away from.”

Thinker winced. “Again, no one is going to hurt anyone, unless they deserve it. This is just a hypothetical. And besides, you’ve already got the winning ingredient, and with it it doesn’t matter whether or not I know your plan.”

Mark frowned. Winning ingredient? Ah.

“Your identity. I have your true identity. I can leak it. With my power I can do it with my mind through my suit’s tech, and I could do it while- if- I get shot. That’s my plan- blackmail.”

Thinker nodded. “That would be the play, given your current situation. It’s not perfect- I could live with my identity being leaked if I’m being honest- but it’s enough to give me pause. Good plan. Best given the circumstances.”

“Great, thanks. Can you ask the sniper to stop then?” the laser dot was still hovering over his chest. Mark almost felt like he was being softly poked wherever the dot was. His heart was beating fast.

“Not until I’ve had confirmation”, Thinker said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “But I have to say, points off for coming so unprepared. You’re new, so I guess I can overlook it, but if you’re going to be in this business you must overprepare for every little thing. I mean that alone convinces me-“ he stopped. “Ah, and there’s the confirmation! You’re not going to be an enemy.” Thinker smiled. He was pointing at Mark’s chest again. The laser dot was gone. That easy?

“I apologize for my rudeness”, he continued, taking off his mask. Addressing his surprise, Thinker said, “We both know each other’s identities, I don’t see the point in the masks. Besides, I wanted to have a more relaxed conversation, remember?”

Mark took a second to adjust to the sudden change in tone. A second ago he had been ready to fight his way out, and now this. Thinker had taken off his mask and had slipped it into his jacket-cape thing.

“Just like that? No more suspicion?”

Thinker shook his head and gave a small smile. “Only the healthy amount. Hopefully the rest of our talk will be more pleasant?”

He makes it sound like a question, like I’m the one being unpleasant here. Mark sighed.

“Should I take off my mask?”

Thinker shrugged. “Up to you. I do know your identity as well, so I don’t see the point in keeping it on. Conversations are better without masks too.”

Mark took off his mask and held it in his hand.

“Come on.” Thinker directed him towards an exit on the far end of the room. Mark turned to follow. A few steps, and just like that, he was out of the sniper’s range. His heart was still beating fast.

It had started drizzling outside. The ground was peppered with dark spots where droplets of rain were being absorbed by the soil. Mark had to fight to keep his teeth from chattering.

Thinker lead them towards the edge of the factory complex. What lay ahead was undeveloped, empty land. A massive sprawl of dusty nothing with patches of grey green grass here and there. It stretched off for quite a distance until it was interrupted by a distant highway. The clouds were a deep blue and grey now, and Mark took a second to watch spears of water dropping from the sky. There was no one else around. Someone had set up a table nearby with two chairs beside it. The table was the kind with an umbrella sticking out of it, thankfully. Thinker likes to be prepared, Mark made a mental note. If so…

“Why not just do your ‘verification’ before I showed up? Rather than pointing a gun at me? Especially considering you reached out to me about this whole thing.” Mark tried not to sound too annoyed. He took a seat as he spoke.

Thinker made an apologetic face, taking a seat himself. “My colleague’s power has... certain requirements. This was the only way to make it work, sorry.” He took a seat. “You can never be too careful, right?”

Mark nodded. “Fine, whatever. So what now?” He took a moment to look at Neel Khatri. He had ochre brown skin, and brown-ish eyes. He sported short cropped black hair, and had some stubble over his cheeks. His face was somewhat gaunt, with a sharp jawline. He turned to look at Mark. His look was intense, analysing. As if he was taking in every detail. It was mildly off putting, like he was trying to look through him. Mark had to look away.

“Now, is your interview, I suppose.”