Wake 1.8

2010, September 13: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

That evening, I pulled out the PokéNav and gave Newter's boss a call.

'Could I be like Faultline?' I liked their mercenary style of choosing their fights. They were officially villains, but like Toybox, straddled the line between rogue and villain, a low priority for the Protectorate. 'If I like them, why not join?'

And why not indeed. They were reasonably powerful, highly competent, and had even defeated both Chevalier and Myrddin in Philadelphia before coming to Brockton Bay. I had some personal suspicions about hat one. Information about that encounter was sparse because the PRT kept that embarrassment under wraps, but any event that resulted in a group of four mercenaries escaping from two Protectorate heads, one of them Myrddin, could be considered a win for Faultline.

The only thing that kept me from outright joining Faultline was my relatively inflexible schedule and inability to leave the city on jobs.

'Still… a friendly relationship can't hurt,' I thought as I dialed the number.

"Faultline speaking," came the crisp, professional voice. Wildbow described her as a stern, no-nonsense woman of "angles and edges" and it was remarkable how that carried through even in her tone.

"This is Creed." It was the name I settled on whether I'd be a hero or rogue. The name implied a code of ethics, something that would hopefully go down well with the mercenary cape and the public in general. "Newter and I spoke a few nights ago."

"You're the new tinker he met at the junkyard." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. Welcome to Brockton Bay, Faultline."

"Thank you. Now, why have you reached out to me?"

"I am unfortunately not in any position to leave the city for extended periods of time on jobs. I cannot join you, but I would like a friendly relationship."

"Agreeable. Are you aware of your specialization?"

"That… is complicated," I started. "Suffice to say, it is rather broad in scope. I take it you are interested in purchasing some tinkertech?"

"I may consider it," she hummed noncommittally. "Newter was impressed with the expanded backpack and I admit it can be useful on missions, but I take it that is not all you can build?"

"Far from it. That was my initial project to improve my scavenging."

"I thought so. What else have you built so far?"

I let out a breath. "I do not feel comfortable disclosing my capabilities over the phone, Faultline."

"Very well, that is understandable. Would you consider meeting me and my team in person?"

It was fast, but it also hopefully meant she wouldn't have the chance to set any traps for me. Barring all else, I knew her civilian ID, Melanie Fitts. I could easily force a MAD scenario. "That would be acceptable."

"I plan to operate out of the Palanquin, a club near the north end of the Boardwalk. Will you be available tonight?"

I considered it. Her willingness to meet in her headquarters implied her sincerity. She wouldn't be willing to trash the HQ she'd worked so hard to renovate, especially not if it meant drawing local attention to herself. "It will have to be past eleven," I said, thinking about mom and Sierra's sleep schedules.

"Very well, midnight then. Please enter through the back."

"Understood."

X

Eleven found me sneaking out of the house through my window, this time with my Expansion Suit textured to look like my normal wear. Just in case anyone was watching, I climbed down slowly. When I was a few blocks away, Bryce Kiley ducked into a convenient alley and emerged as Creed.

"This feels incredible," I whispered to SAINT. I knew intellectually that the suit would boost my physical abilities. It made me a little bit stronger, a little bit more durable. It offered far better boosts to agility and reaction speed, but knowing and experiencing were two different matters. I wasn't suddenly Batman, but the suit did let an orphan street rat rob a museum with ease. Seeing the world as Creed, I felt that the cars were moving slower, the sounds of the city crisper.

"Porygon," he agreed. For once, he was not constrained by the camera of my PokéNav; he was seeing out of my helmet, my own eyes.

I jumped five feet into the air with ease and climbed up the fire escape to the roof. "Ready, buddy?"

"Gon!" A low trill, one I'd gotten to understand as excitement, came from the in-helm speakers.

We raced across the rooftops, far faster than any normal person could hope to keep up with. The gray of the Expansion Suit made us all the harder to spot, with the burnt orange patches blending with the orange light of the streetlamps.

I raced along with the aid of Agility. Leaping the gap between buildings was a bit nerve-wracking at first, but I quickly adapted to my improved physical abilities. The suit cut my travel time from a full hour's jog to under fifteen minutes.

"Damn, would be nice if there was a way to quantify aura," I muttered to myself as I caught my breath across the street from the Palanquin.

Unfortunately, despite all of the pokémon world's advancements, aura was not a power that was well understood. At first, I thought that the PP, or power points, used in the games could be translated to some kind of aura measuring stick, but that turned out to be a false lead. Every pokémon was different; and so too, every human was different. In-game, an arcanine and a vulpix could both use Fire Blast just five times, but reality was not so simplistic. The energy of all creation was not something that could be readily quantified by man.

I gathered my wits and jumped down to the street below.

The club was an old building refurbished to fit the purposes of the mercenary band. It stood two blocks from Lord's Street and four from the Boardwalk on top of a hill. It was a four-story building with sizable floorspace and I couldn't help but wonder how much being a mercenary paid.

Like with many new clubs, they were running a special, "Two for one cocktails!" a bold sign prominently positioned outside read. There was a respectable line out the door with a well-muscled bouncer who loomed over the waiting customers.

"Looks like Faultline's already finished hiring," I mused.

I made my way to the back door. Instead of approaching as I was, I textured myself to look the way I looked when Newter first met me: a ridiculous sweater wrapped around my head with a pair of jeans to finish the ensemble. I knocked and less than a minute later, Newter answered.

"Hey, Creed," he greeted with an easygoing grin. "Glad you could make it. Boss-lady's upstairs."

He led me through the back of the club, the section that had been converted for the Crew's personal use. "How've you been, Newter?"

"Pretty good, but between you and me, it's been kinda boring. I can only scout out the area so many times before it all becomes routine, you know?"

I hummed noncommittally. "Have you fought the Merchants yet?"

"Nah, those guys? I got a few of them to leave the area in exchange for a good high."

"Careful, that might just encourage them to come back."

"We'll deal with them if they get too pushy," he shrugged, completely unworried about the least of Brockton's gangs. "It's not like we care too much either since we're not planning on holding any territory besides this little hill."

"Fair enough." We climbed the stairs to the third floor, where Faultline's office was. The third floor had largely been converted to a set of bedrooms and work stations.

Newter didn't bother knocking. "Yo, boss-lady, Creed's in!" he cheered.

Inside, a stern woman with a welder's mask sat at a large office desk strewn with binders. In front of the desk was a coffee table surrounded by sofas and lounge chairs. It was a strange mix of homey and professional that fit in well with my image of the Crew. A man who could only be Gregor the Snail took up two-thirds of a sofa while a dainty slip of a girl in forest green sat across form him. The maze-like pattern on her mask identified her as Labyrinth, one of the strongest shakers in the world. Newter ambled forward and collapsed onto the couch next to Gregor. "I bring you, Creed!" he said with a flourish.

I could just feel the frown Faultline must have worn behind the mask. "Do try to be professional, Newter," she chided.

"No can do, boss-lady. This is my R&R time."

"Hello, Creed, my name is Gregor the Snail," came the Case-53's deep voice. It was surprisingly smooth. I expected his voice to sound coarse, perhaps as an effect of various acids or grinding shells, but it had a silky quality that made me think he could sing in a jazz group if he wanted. There was also an accent I could place as vaguely Scandinavian.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The man himself was odd to look at, but not terrifying or grotesque. I found his appearance fascinating, though I realized that this was the power talking. Sometimes, my power behaved almost as though it were a pokémon professor and by the standards of that batshit crazy world, Gregor was practically normal.

If I had to guess, he stood at roughly five-ten and was literally three times my width. The strangest part about him wasn't the snail shells that dotted his body like acne or visible shadow of his skeleton, I'd expected those. The strangest part was that he had no hair, not even eyebrows or lashes. It was odd, but odd in a mundane way that threw me for a loop.

"Hello, I'm Labyrinth," the girl I knew to be Elle said quietly. I'd expected her to be distant, quite literally in a world of her own, but she seemed remarkably alert, possibly one of her better days. Perhaps this was why Faultline wanted to see me so quickly, a show of strength while her most powerful asset was alert enough to cooperate. After all, had I been anyone else, the knowledge that a shaker of her caliber was staring me down would have convinced me to behave.

I gave the deceptively waifish girl a once over. She was thin, and blonde, but beyond that, I couldn't tell the slightest detail about her. She could be twelve or in her early twenties thanks to the mask that covered her whole face. She even sounded somewhat ambiguous; her voice had an airy note to it that made her sound like she was speaking from a great distance away.

"Hello, Gregor, Labyrinth." I nodded to each in turn and reminded myself that despite his oafish appearance and her detached demeanor, they were far more intelligent than they first seemed. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"If you don't mind my asking, how long have you been active?" Faultline asked.

"I've been active since late August," I said, seeing no reason to hide it.

"I see, then has anyone explained the unwritten rules to you?"

I nodded. "I appreciate you trying to brief me on cape etiquette, but yes, I'm aware of them."

"Very well then. You are aware of the risks of being a tinker?"

"I am. Tinkers are most vulnerable in the first weeks before they can establish themselves. I know that should my presence be known, different factions will do anything, even disregard the unwritten rules, to try and recruit me."

"Why did you see fit to reach out to me then? Newter left the ball in your court, so to speak."

"I reached out precisely because he left the choice to me," I said with a smile at the orange boy. "I am aware of a tinker's potential to be a massive force multiplier. Instead of trying to pressure me into compliance, he decided to give me the chance to choose, and there are few things I value more than my freedom to choose."

"I see. That is an understandable worldview. Tell me then. You said you were unwilling to join me, but you still came here to meet with me. What is it you want to get out of tonight?"

"Several things come to mind, but most of all, a business partner." I removed my expanded bag and put it on the table. "I did some research on your organization, Faultline. I know that you are mercenaries, officially villains, but you never kill and tend to take jobs that are less… bloody. That, combined with Newter's actions, tells me that you work with a code of honor of sorts. I think I could stand to sell to someone like that."

"Oh?" Her response had the perfect blend of curiosity and professional reservation. Where Faultline was hard to read behind her welder's mask, Gregor and Newter looked at the expanded bag with anticipation. "You did imply over the phone that you've built other things. I take it that you've brought them with you?"

"Of course. There are several capabilities I am unwilling or unable to sell at this time, but I will outline the ones I am willing to put on the table." I gestured to the bag. "To start, the expanded bag. My bag has a carry limit of six hundred pounds. I could reasonably work as a no questions asked courier service with this alone. You all were already aware of it."

"Does it have to be a backpack?" Gregor asked.

I thought about it. The principles behind the folded space technology could be applied to other containers, from pokéballs to bags. "There is no reason it needs to be a backpack," I said. "My backpack just happened to be what I had on hand. I intend to reinforce my bag as it is. The carrying capacity would be different depending on the size of the container, but I could tinker a milk carton if you want." He nodded, satisfied. "The backpack's various pockets can also be individually expanded for different uses that may come in handy on your jobs: weapons, medical supplies, smuggled goods, et cetera. Now, the tinkertech I think you will really be impressed with is my costume."

"What? A sweater? Very grunge," Newter joked.

I snapped my fingers dramatically as SAINT made my disguise flicker. My frame was covered in pixels before those pixels scattered like so much static, revealing me in my gray-orange Expansion Suit. "A sweater," I said with a cheeky grin he couldn't see. I snapped my fingers again and my head was replaced with Faultline's. "A welder's mask," I said as SAINT used the voice synthesizer in my jaw guard to perfectly imitate her voice. Another snap, and this time I wore Labyrinth's green, maze-patterned mask, "and so much more."

I frowned a little. Labyrinth's voice was a bit more difficult to fake. Something about her power, or perhaps a quirk of her mask, made that airy intonation tricky. It wasn't a big difference, but it was there if one listened carefully.

"Impressive." This time, Faultline seemed to be doing more than humoring me. "I take it you can take the appearance of anyone else you've seen before?"

I nodded and switched to a full-body copy of Newter, sans tail. Scanners in my helmet matched my facial expressions to the textured model, allowing me to grin at them. "Yes." I stood and stretched before walking around the room. "The textured model is just that, a model. You can think of it as an advanced hologram if you must. With it, I can change my appearance to anyone I encounter. I'll even feel like my model, though it won't hold up to hard impacts."

I then stood before Labyrinth and became a mirror image of her before taking a seat next to the pale blonde so they could compare us side by side. "Although, because the model does not alter my actual size or mass, I can't even begin to copy Gregor due to our different physiques. The suit will adjust for some variances in body type, but there are limits. Note that as Newter, I couldn't grow a tail. Also, just because I look like Labyrinth of course does not mean I can behave like her."

"And this suit would be for sale?"

"Not the suit necessarily, it's got a few more tricks I'm keeping in reserve, but the texturing technology? Absolutely," I replied. "I would be willing to make a suit for one of your Crew, or a shawl or cape if that works out better for you."

"Huh, if you did this in a week, I'm kinda afraid of what you'll make in a few months," Newter said. "And seriously, please stop wearing Lab's face while you talk. It's weirding me out."

With a clap, I was back to my biker outfit. Faultline allowed herself a few chuckles at her subordinate's jesting. "What are the suit's defensive capabilities? It appears to be made of leather."

"The exterior is leather," I confirmed. "It was built from a set of motorcycle leathers among other durable fabrics, so I can promise that it will last. The suit is not stab proof, but it will protect the wearer from falls, road rashes, or regular punches and kicks. I could make the same with Kevlar or other materials but you'll have to source the raw materials yourself."

"Was there anything else you wanted to show us?"

"Not as much, no," I shrugged. I certainly wasn't going to reveal SAINT or my ability to code combat assistance AIs into the suit. The hacking suite that could pop open a pokéball was something else I decided to keep in reserve for the moment. It was too reliant on adapting to different codes and signals using SAINT's own processors. If I wanted to give it out, I'd have to dumb it down a bit. "I haven't had enough time to build much else, I'm afraid. That said, I will say that I am able to apply the principles of the suit to various other applications such as hidden doors or just the best 3D TV in the world."

"Yes, can we?"

"No, Newter."

"Awww… But, but, super-TV…" the boy drooped.

"Is full body coverage necessary for your disguise function?"

"Yes. If you want to use the texturing function of the Expansion Suit, you must not wear anything over it and you must cover all of you. The suit can compensate for relatively simple things like a backpack," I pointed to my own, "but the bigger it is, the more energy it consumes."

She clicked her tongue in disappointment. "That's a pity. My original intention was to give it to Newter as he is our most agile member, but he needs to be able to make skin contact with his opponents. What exactly is it powered by?"

'In my case, aura and hyper-efficient pokémon world techno-bullshit.'

"If I made you one, it'd contain a tinkertech battery cell that can be charged with any conventional generator, or even a powerful enough electrokinetic. Are you interested in a suit for yourself? Or perhaps Labyrinth?" I tried. "A shaker of her caliber who could appear as she wishes could easily wander her territory with no hope of being found."

"Tempting," she admitted. "For now, let's consider the expanded bags. How much do you think they're worth?"

I laughed. I could see what she was doing. Tinkertech wasn't like produce; there was no set price on tinkertech. With no frame of reference, a new tinker was likely to greatly devalue his own inventions. "Nice try, but I don't want monetary compensation," I said.

"Dude, did you just show up to show off?" Newter complained. "My super-TV…"

"Your TV is fine the way it is," Faultline said tiredly. For all his abilities, Newter was still a teenage boy and sure as hell behaved like one. "I take it you want something other than money. A job?"

"Hah, no, of course not. You haven't fully established yourselves here," I pointed out. "Odds are, each of the cape factions in the Bay are going to poke at you until you make it clear that you're only interested in using the Palanquin as a base. I don't think you'll be in any position to leave the Palanquin for a while and I don't have anything that needs doing out of the city."

"We won't take any jobs inside of Brockton Bay," she warned.

"I know, I know. I don't want to hire you for a job. I want you to act as a go between so I can drop off my expanded bag and you can get what I need for me without arousing suspicion." I waved at my outfit. "I'm still a new tinker and 'low-key' is the name of the game right now."

"Prudent," she hummed.

"That's not all though. I'll add expansions to one bag per member in exchange for two more favors: First, you will allow the use of the Palanquin as neutral meeting ground between me and any other faction. I negotiate with. Second, seeing how you purchased and refurbished the Palanquin, you clearly have contacts in real estate. I want you to help me buy an abandoned building for use as a lab, then hide the trail to the best of your abilities."

"You want us to be your proxies."

"Yes, at least until I fully establish myself. Four bags, three favors. Deal?"

"The building is easy enough to arrange. I have some contacts, but they will have to know that you are associated with me. I would think that alone would be enough to pay for the tinkertech bags," she said. "You are not merely paying for abandoned real estate; you are paying for discretion and professionalism."

I nodded easily. "Which is why the other two favors are all much more manageable. Occasionally send Newter on a shopping run. Occasionally provide neutral ground and ensure my safety in negotiations. Neither are stringent commitments."

"That depends heavily on what your shopping list contains and who you negotiate with."

"True, I would be willing to give you right of refusal for the use of the Palanquin as neutral ground on good faith. I just want the possibility to exist should it become necessary."

She considered my proposal for a minute. "Very well, that is reasonable. I and my organization will help you acquire a lab discretely. We will also be available should you require resources that you cannot acquire on your own. We will consider allowing you the use of our headquarters as neutral meeting ground. What kind of real estate were you looking for? Do you require something the size of a shipping warehouse or something smaller?"

I shook my head. I had ideas for a lab of my own, but at the moment, a second safehouse certainly wouldn't hurt. "Not at this time. It's possible that I may want to expand in the future, but I won't need something so excessively large. A simple building, the more unremarkable the better, will be fine. I would like it to be as close to the Boardwalk as possible," I added. "The fewer reasons for active conflict with a gang, the better."

"I'll see what I can do. I should have a few options laid out for you in a few days."

Author's Note

First contact! Kind of, not counting the initial Newter meeting. Funny thing, I've been looking for more detail on Elle/Labyrinth, but she's an extremely vague character. I'm going to see if I can flush her out a bit more than "that autistic girl." As far as this story is concerned, she's sixteen, two years older than Bryce. I'm going with sixteen based off of Mimi/Burnscar's estimated age of late teens-early twenties. There isn't really a reason for me thinking this, but I don't think she'd be much younger than that.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.