Wave 2.7

2010, October 7: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

Nothing interesting happened on Wednesday. Matt was a bit less reluctant to learn.

I did get the call that Faultline had my two hundred pounds of volcanic ash, so I made my way to the Palanquin at midnight. I wouldn't be able to work with it until tomorrow, when Faultline would have the forge beneath Harvey's set up to my specifications, but having it alone was good enough.

Tomorrow, I'd build myself a set of hover boots and seastone knuckles to embed into my gloves. Once I could secure a stable supply, I intended to coat my entire lab in it, much like the SMILE factory in Dressrosa.

The seastone was an interesting material. It wouldn't negate powers, capes weren't devil fruit users, but that didn't mean it'd never come in handy. Having the "essence of the sea" within also meant it'd likely come in handy in a future specialization. Or, in the worst case scenario, I might have to put down a fruit user if I ever decided to mass produce SMILE fruits. Combined with their durability, it'd be weird if I didn't have at least one seastone weapon.

X

I was halfway through world issues with Mrs. Currie when I realized I had yet another material shortage. If I wanted to make a lineage factor extractor and splicer, something I'd taken to abbreviating as an LFES, I desperately needed an advanced chemistry set. I wasn't just talking about the makeshift garbage found in meth labs like coffee makers and Pyrex tableware. I needed a centrifuge, distiller, electrolytic cell, and more.

That was the kind of thing I could expect to find in a university lab or Medhall. The centrifuge was especially important because I'd need it to do double duty to isolate pyrobloin from other minerals in volcanic ash. I had a small one I'd planned to cobble together for the purpose using a food processor, but I could always do with bigger.

'Something tells me Amy won't let me hit Medhall and "I swear they're Nazis" won't cut it.' I crashed my head onto my desk, ignoring my copy of the textbook.

"Bryce, is there a problem?" Mrs. Currie asked in that way teachers have that really said, "There'd better not be."

"No, ma'am," I said back.

"Good, maybe you can tell me what you thought of the Boston Games."

"It's an interesting case study in what happens when the PRT manages to clean up the gangs but lacks the power or preparedness to fill the vacuum. A lot of people, including me if I'm honest, criticize the PRT for not being aggressive enough against the Empire, ABB, and Merchants, but we often forget that taking down the gangs is actually only half the battle. If Brockton Bay's Protectorate moved against the gangs, we could likely have a scenario even worse than the Boston Games."

She looked a little surprised that I could talk about the subject at all, but it was one I'd done extensive research on, both as a matter of personal curiosity and one critical to my immediate survival.

'I can't convince Amy to let me steal from Medhall or Brockton College. I likely won't be able to find any major drug dens that the Empire runs, if they run any at all. I could make more centrifuges from stuff I can find in a drug lab though,' I thought.

It wasn't explicitly something shown in One Piece, but it seemed that my power would happily provide the components for anything so long as I worked towards a One Piece tech tree. I could make most of the lab equipment I'd need using the appliances I'd stolen already, but when I went on my larceny binge, I was shooting for anything that looked vaguely useful, not focusing on a specific type of material. It wasn't surprising that I'd run out of one thing or another.

'Guess I'm hitting the Merchants. I'm going to have to remake the expanded bag so it doesn't get in the way of my cape. Maybe a series of smaller bags attached to my lower back and thighs? I think I have some camping gear in the stockpile. There should be a survival pack somewhere…'

I started to doodle on the edges of my notebook. It didn't look like tinkertech, more like a series of bags attached to a mountain climber's harness, so I didn't worry too much about it being seen. That was the beauty of One Piece, I found: It looked basically normal, if a bit strange.

'Alright, plan "Build new bags to steal with then convince Amy to let me hit the Merchants for stuff to build a few extra centrifuges" is a go.'

X

"Hey, Ames," I said over lunch, "do you have time today after school?"

"She's free," Vicky answered for her. "Actually, so are we, right, Dean? We can totes make it a double date!"

"I don't know, Vicky," Dean tried to calm the girl. "Maybe we shouldn't assume he meant this as a date."

Amy shot me an irritated glare. "It's not a date."

"But you can come too, Victoria," I said nonchalantly. The best way to get rid of Vicky was to employ a bit of reverse psychology. "I wanted to pick Amy's brain about the AP bio project Mrs. Pearce assigned."

Vicky made a face and backpedaled like a cat confronted with a spritz bottle. "Eww, no. Never mind."

"You want to come, Chels? Steph?" I asked.

"Nah, we have cheer practice," Stephanie said. Chelsea nodded as she chewed through a turkey sandwich. "You two have fun."

"Right, fun." I turned to Amy. "I'll be in the school library after class."

X

I got out of my last class, English lit with Miss Lam, before Amy. We read The Great Gatsby, in my case for the fourth time. And like the first three times, I wasn't sure what the moral of the story was supposed to be; they were all assholes.

I spent the class working on a catalog of nonlethal tinkertech I could sell to heroes, independents, and wealthy civilians.

When Miss Lam, a young, mid-late twenties Vietnamese woman half my classmates had crushes on, called on me, I told her that The Great Gatsby wasn't a commentary on wealth. Instead, it was a social commentary on what it meant to be part of an in-group. After all, Gatsby accumulated wealth, power, and fame yet was still rejected. It wasn't plagiarism if the source was myself in another life, right? Satisfied that I'd read the material, she left me to my woolgathering.

I rushed to the library, a two-story structure that took up a significant portion of one wing of Arcadia's "H," and reserved a small group study room. Our library was well-stocked with spare copies of textbooks students had donated at the end of the year, an effort started by the principal five years back to care for students from the other side of the tracks. It also had sizable sections dedicated to classical literature, fantasy, and other genres as well as how-to guides and instruction manuals.

I set my Legend-themed backpack on the floor and pulled out my laptop to start transcribing the tinkertech catalog I planned to build. I was at it for about ten minutes before Amy joined me, her bag tossed carelessly to the side.

"What's up, Bryce?"

"Not much, just checking in with you about my cape plans. You did want to be kept abreast of this, right?"

"Someone's gotta make sure you don't set the city on fire," she joked.

I feigned taking an arrow to the heart. "You wound me, Ames."

"You can pull an Emperor Palpatine at will," she deadpanned, "a fire is very possibly in your future."

"I can," I nodded. "'Can' being the operative word here."

"So, what's your big plan? Don't tell me you actually want me to look over your biology homework."

"Of course not," I scoffed. "AP bio is just a bunch of memorization anyway. No, I called you here because I plan to hit a Merchant drug lab for materials."

"Really? Why? Aren't you being too rash? Please don't tell me you need a meth lab of your own."

"No, but I do need some of those chemicals and hardware. Since you're against me stealing from legitimate businesses, this is my best option."

"Can't you just buy an appliance?"

"Not going to risk discovery. I could probably do it, but I need some materials in bulk and that's definitely not worth the attention. Besides, I'm not made of money."

She mulled it over. "Okay, I'm not against you looting a Merchant lab. Was that all? I want to put in a few hours at the hospital today."

"Nope, here, look at this." I turned the laptop around so she could see what I'd been writing.

"Hover boots? Shield generators? Germa fiber cloth? Hammerspace bags? Is this all stuff you can build?"

"Basically, yeah. No crime, so I need a way to make money. I'm planning on selling tinkertech to heroes, independents, and rich civvies. Before I put my catalog out there though, I want you to screen them for anything that'd be problematic."

"You'd let me tell you what you can and can't build?" Her tone was surprised. She'd obviously had some experience with Armsmaster before.

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I wiggled a hand up and down. "Ehh, kind of? I'm willing to let you have a say in what I make public. Being a cape is all about sending a message, remember? And I want to show you that I'm sincere about letting you be my moral compass."

She smiled honestly, her freckles stretching across her cheeks. "Thanks, Bryce. That means a lot." She looked at the list for a moment before she pointed to one item. "What exactly is a wapometal?"

"It's not an invention as much as it is a material." I pulled up a relevant Wikipedia article. "It's a type of shape-memory alloy, SMA for short. SMAs have been around since the 1930s, since way before capes. Basically, it's a type of metal alloy that can be deformed and then heated to repair itself. Normal SMAs have really low fatigue resistance, but that's not true for wapometal. Wapometal is unique among SMAs in that it is extremely durable, even usable in combat purposes. If I made plate armor with it and Lung went to town on it, I'd be able to repair it to pristine condition in an hour or so."

She hummed. "Okay, that sounds useful. And the Germa fibers are the stuff your suit's made of, right?"

"Yup."

"I'm against you selling the shield module and some of this defensive stuff."

"Explain that one to me," I said. "I figured those would be the ones you'd really like."

"I like it, but I don't think it should be public. Sell it to heroes only. Granting people invincibility makes them think the rules don't apply to them. Trust me, out of all the capes I see, I see brutes most often. I know it wouldn't be your fault if your inventions get misused, but I'd rather not have a new villain who thinks he's hot shit because he has some kind of brute-level costume."

I thought about it. "Alright, so you think I should make two separate catalogs?"

"Yeah, probably. I'm not comfortable with you selling honestly, but a differentiated catalog is better than nothing." It was a moment before she spoke again. "You should probably limit distribution for hover boots too. Flying is a major advantage and most Protectorate districts have at least one flier for that reason."

I made the appropriate change to the document. "Okay, what else?"

"Black Rhino?"

"It's a three-wheeled motorcycle powered by a soda engine. That's okay, right?"

"She hummed. It should be fine. Can you limit the output of your engine for civilians? Maybe keep things comparable to an ATV or dirt bike?"

"I can," I confirmed.

"Okay, I don't see any other problems with this. Only…"

"Only what?"

"This catalog is going to make you seem like you'd do anything for money. Are you sure that's the kind of image you want?"

"My image is as I am, or as close as I can get it. I want to tinker. I want money to tinker. I want to have fun using the inventions I make. If I happen to help people along the way, great, but I'm not making it my main priority," I said honestly. "So yeah, I'm fine with that image."

"I wish I could be that carefree," she whispered, as though afraid to admit it even to herself.

"Who says you can't be?" I wrapped one arm around her shoulder. "You help so many people. It isn't wrong to take some time for yourself. Maybe hang out with Vicky? You know, just you two. She wouldn't begrudge you a sisters' day out, right?"

"You're right, I might ask her tomorrow." She picked up her backpack and gave me a soft smile. "Thanks, Bryce. I'm going to go to the hospital now."

"Alright, don't burn yourself out."

X

With all my materials and tools from Faultline coming in tomorrow, I found myself in a bit of a conundrum: I had nothing I new I could build.

Wapometal and pyrobloin needed a dedicated forge which wouldn't be ready until tomorrow evening. Seastone and hover boots both needed pyrobloin. The Black Rhino trike needed wapometal to be combat-viable. The LFES needed more chemistry equipment that I wouldn't be getting until I could build myself something from a raiding a Merchant lab.

I had an entire notebook full of things I wanted to do, including reinforce my entire lab with near indestructible seastone then convert it into a ship of my own so I could get out of dodge when Levi inevitably showed, but none of it was possible at the moment.

I paced around my lab. "What else can I build?"

SAINT hopped out of the PokéNav in a shower of pixelated sparks. "Reee," he trilled. He nudged my backpack, not the Legend-themed, rainbow-colored one I used for school but the large, black one I used as Creed.

"You're right, thanks for reminding me, bud." I gave him a grateful pat and spent an hour loading new schematics for a series of smaller expanded bags into the sewing machine. The two holsters meant to strap to my thighs could hold fifty pounds each, with the one at the small of my back beneath my cape having double capacity. I also made a few miniature ones for my breast pockets that could hold forty pounds each. All told, it was less than half the carrying capacity of my bigger backpack, but having unrestricted access to my shield-cape would be worth the trouble.

While the sewing machine prepped the bags, I spent the next few hours working out the inner circuitry that would turn them into hammerspace items. Six weeks later, I still had no idea how any of that worked. I asked SAINT to wake me before dinner and allowed myself to sink into the paradoxically clear yet fuzzy haze that was my tinker fugue.

X

Sierra pushed her roasted Brussels sprouts around her plate, making them run circles around the small volcano of mash potatoes and gravy. She teased one of her dreads, pulling at the tip and letting it bounce back. Finally, mom had enough and set down her fork.

"Sierra, honey, did something happen?"

"Huh? No, nothing happened. College is fine."

"You know you've always been a shit liar, sis," I said.

"Language, Bryce."

I ignored mom and continued. "You're one of those health-conscious weirdos that actually like Brussels sprouts and you haven't touched them. So? Spill."

"I mean it, nothing's going on at school."

"So not schoolwork. Friends?" she flinched. "Ah."

"What? Sierra?"

"Sabah's dad's sick and she's been feeling down about it, that's all."

I chewed the chicken Kiev and savored the herby notes of the filling. "How sick? Also, should you be telling us this?"

"It's not like you're going to make her life difficult. I think her dad has some kind of heart condition."

"That's terrible," mom gasped. "Is he in the hospital now?"

"Yeah, he's doing okay but they want to keep him there for a while."

"Has he been put on Panacea's list?"

She sighed. "Yeah, but it's going to take a while. She's super busy and it's practically like winning the lottery."

'I know I told her to relax a bit, but I can kind of see the pressure she's under if everyone wants a piece of her time.' "Do you want me to ask Amy?" I tried. "She doesn't take requests so it might be a hard sell, but she'd at least listen I think."

"It's fine, Bryce. Her dad's stable and he'll likely be released within a week or so. It's just that there isn't really a cure so he'll be back in the hospital eventually."

"Okay. If he gets worse, let me know. You can apologize to Sabah for sharing family secrets after I have a chat with Amy."

She smiled uneasily. "Yeah, sounds good."

X

After dinner, I called SAINT and had him start a search for Merchant labs. He wasn't an amazing hacker, not compared to Dragon, but gathering information from the city government was no issue. Most of it wasn't even hacking, simply the accumulation of information that was already publicly available by law.

To find likely Merchant labs, I had SAINT look for buildings that had been abandoned for at least a year according to the Brockton Bay Building Commission. Then, I narrowed that list to only those buildings within the core of Merchant territory. I couldn't imagine Skidmark would place a major lab in the outskirts of his turf where it could be more easily discovered. Third, using information from the same Commission, I had SAINT exclude all buildings smaller than four thousand square feet. That way, if it did turn out to be a Merchant holding, it would be more likely to be a big one with sizable investment.

I had no intention of wasting my time raiding some idiot's basement. It was possible the Merchants dug out some space themselves, but I remembered that the Bay sat on an aquifer. Add in the pipes and sewer system and there really wasn't much real estate belowground.

The only real hacking I asked him to do was with the Brockton Bay Police Department's Central Records Division. There, he was to look for police reports that originated from Merchant territory and also complained about the smell.

I suspected that most of those claims hadn't even been investigated, but that was fine, simply knowing a rough location would allow me to cross-reference the reports with the map obtained from the building commission. Setting the little guy to work, I turned in early for the night. I had a feeling it'd be a long weekend.

X

2010, October 8: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

I awoke to eight possible locations. There were others, but none exceeding four thousand square feet in area. With the background research done, there was nothing left but to scout out each of those labs in person. I was jogging to school when I received an email from Faultline.

Creed,

Good morning. The final touches to Harvey's Bar and Grill will be made during the day. I was informed that they expect to be finished at approximately two in the afternoon. You should check on your lab this evening and tell me if there is anything that needs adjusting.

I am sending this email in lieu of calling you directly so you have my email address for the future. We have accepted a job out of town and expect to be gone for the week. I will find time to keep in contact, but correspondence may be sporadic.

Lastly, I want you to know that I've sent out some feelers through my contacts for people who would be interested in purchasing tinkertech. I'll have a full contract ready for you when I get back.

Regards,

Faultline.

I hummed in thought and slowed my pace to a swift walk. It wasn't ideal, I'd planned to get the catalog set up as soon as possible, but it'd have to do. 'Well, guess I know what I'm doing after school.'

X

Harvey's Bar and Grill had gotten a full makeover that wouldn't have been amiss in a reality TV show. The red brick building had been thoroughly washed until the whites of the mortar could be seen clearly. A crimson awning shaded the entrance to the restaurant. The sign nailed to the wall was replaced, from a generic green and white to a sunny yellow framed with twisting four-leaf clovers. A smaller sign on the ground proclaimed its grand opening tomorrow, a fifty percent discount on all menu items for the opening weekend.

I'd changed into my costume then disguised myself once again, this time into a Thai native with bronze skin and almond eyes. If anyone was keeping track of Faultline's investments, they'd get nothing from me. I inputted the passcode into the keypad and let myself in.

The ground floor was now an old-timey bar. I knew everything was brand knew, but the décor still had the look and feel of a dive bar that had seen some decades of service. Varnished cedar and oak tables lent the place a warm ambiance. In one corner was a jukebox from the eighties, along with a retrofitted microphone. Behind the counter, I could see shelves of top quality liquor. There was an emphasis on scotch and malt beer. I recognized only a handful of brands, but they all looked to be of good quality.

Having taken stock of the restaurant, I moved up to the second floor apartment that Faultline and I had agreed to use as a safehouse. The studio had been fully furnished with a sofa-bed, desk, lamp, and some kitchen implements. It wasn't homey by any stretch, but it had everything needed for a person to be comfortable for a few days.

Finally, I made my way downstairs to the lab. At just a thousand square feet, the lab was tiny compared to the Gullrest, but it did contain everything I'd asked of and a bit more.

A set of crucibles, tongs, and other handheld tools were set aside on a small shelf beneath the stairs. Beneath the shelf, I found several sturdy, heatproof molds. The furnace, gas powered, sat in the far corner, with the grinder and lathe set against the wall closest to the stairs. At the center of the basement stood an island table with in-built drawers and an attached anvil for finer work. It was a bit cramped, but not enough that I couldn't swing a hammer.

Looking around, I noticed perhaps the most important custom job Faultline did for me: excellent vents and fans ready to disperse the heat of the forge. I probably wouldn't do much tinkering here during the day, if only to keep the sound levels down, but I saw myself checking in often.

"I'm going to have to replace the power source on all of these, aren't I?" I mumbled to myself. "Three soda engines at least, or maybe just a large one I can set into the wall to power them all? Yeah, that sounds like it'd take up less room overall..." I got to work with a grin on my face.

Author's Note

Lab's ready, though it's more about appearances than anything else. Still, he'll soon have a steady supply of wapometal and whatever else he needs being produced via SAINT's network in the background. Along with the shit from the Hillside Heist, he's largely set on any of the smaller projects, though he'll have to source materials for the bigger/more important things he's thinking of.

This is the writer equivalent of a DM saying "Keep track of your own arrows. I'm just going to assume you go get some back after every encounter and remember to restock at any village you stop by."

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.