Interlude 3.15.5: Various

Melanie Fitts

2010, November 9: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

I looked out over the Palanquin dance floor as I filled in an acquisition form for yet more liquor. The club was a never-ending gullet. More than seven thousand dollars per month on alcohol alone, never mind food, payroll, utilities, and other costs of business. Luckily for me, the club was also a highly profitable business, especially in a city like Brockton Bay. It wasn't uncommon for the Palanquin to rake in upwards of thirty-six thousand dollars per month.

And of course, that was discounting my other activities.

The last mission had been a relatively easy one; I'd chosen it specifically so I could test out Creed's tech in the field. The mission was a simple matter of theft and corporate espionage. We were tasked by a mid-sized robotics and computer manufacturing company to steal relevant files on proprietary technology from Yale University's computer engineering labs.

The client wanted files on what was supposed to be a new model of photolithography machine. From what little I could glean about the tech, it was a machine that made microchips on silicon semiconductors. The technology was old, but the new model was inspired by a more advanced variant used by some tinker or other that could consolidate and integrate more circuitry in a much smaller area. By acquiring the schematics, and preventing the university from patenting and selling it to their competitors, they hoped to corner the market while jumpstarting their own R&D branch.

The job was a bit of a departure from our standard missions, contraband delivery and bodyguarding, but I felt that we were well-equipped to handle it. It was a simple, straightforward job that didn't even have us leaving New England.

The mission itself went off without a hitch though there was a minor bit of trouble in the aftermath.

I was impressed with Creed's Bug Box, the all-purpose digital lockpick that he claimed could bypass any electronic lock in seconds. The university's state of the art security was rendered helpless, and without leaving the slightest sign of forceful entry.

Securing the paper files in the lab director's room was a simple matter of picking the lock and making copies before storing them into my expanded bag. The electronic files ended up being equally easy to acquire when Newter found the man's password taped to his monitor… like an idiot… Though to be fair, "YaleCS2011" was hardly going to stop a dedicated thief. He probably never bothered changing whatever the IT department gave him.

Our mission completed without any snags, we returned back to our hotel room. The next day, when we were getting ready to head home, the heroes found us. They were led by a thinker named Intuit, a minor thinker who received varying intensities of shivers and goosebumps when he stepped near events he found morally objectionable within twenty-four hours. He could also use that power to track the culprit apparently.

I considered the likelihood that he'd be around the lab to be negligible but looking back on the circumstances and his age, he was likely a student or lab tech at the university. In hindsight, I should have prepared for such an eventuality.

Fortunately for us, Labyrinth was having a good day. Gregor, Newter, and I held the local team off for several minutes, giving her the chance to set the stage. She turned the hotel into a giant maze made of sandstone bricks reminiscent of the tombs found in the Valley of Kings. We phased through the walls while the Protectorate had to break through or go around. In the end, we were able to reach our rental car and make our getaway, leaving them stuck and waiting for reality to reassert itself.

That was admittedly closer than I'd have preferred, and all because of chance. As powerful as she was, I did not enjoy inserting Labyrinth into our missions. I knew she was more aware than most assumed but that didn't mean I could shake the near instinctive need to view her as a little sister that needed to be protected. In that sense, her shield module and invisibility cloak were a huge source of relief for me. With them, it was possible for her to sit around and change the battlefield as she pleases while remaining all but undetectable.

That extra protection was something I wanted for the rest of my team, but I wasn't certain if I could get Creed to accept more commissions from me. He promised to give commissions through me priority, and while he did seem like he valued his word, it wasn't lost on me that he had distanced himself from me somewhat.

No, I was not in the habit of self-delusion: Creed had outgrown me. I'd initially thought I could have a tinker on-call for years thanks to Newter's initial kindness and our deal over Harvey's, but he managed to surpass what I could provide him in a short few months.

I wondered which it was. Had The GOAT reached out to Creed after our deal? Or had Creed acted independently before The GOAT reprimanded him? Ever since he'd made his association with the mysterious thinker public, he'd acted with a more heroic lean. That he had two catalogs was telling.

Creed was a hero, or at least heavily influenced in that direction. Question was, where did that leave our relationship?

I was brought out of my thoughts by a phone call from a familiar name: Coil. He'd called twice before, the first to ask for my services and the second to pass on a commission request to Creed. I'd refused the former and Creed hadn't even considered the latter. The young tinker had been uncharacteristically emphatic about not forwarding any requests from Coil, no matter the promised price, and had suggested I too have nothing to do with him.

"Faultline speaking," I said, voice firm and crisp.

"Evening, Faultline." Coil's voice was smooth, deep and buttery like a man trained to be an orator from a young age. It sounded a little too oily for a villain; no one in our line of work should sound so charismatic. "Congratulations on a job well done."

"Coil. What can I do for you?"

"I have a proposal for you."

"I don't take on jobs in the city. You know that already."

"Nor would I ask that of you," he said smoothly. "I do have a different business proposition, Faultline."

I rolled my eyes skeptically. Coil was every bit the snake he dressed as. He did however have deep pockets, as well as a professional demeanor about his organization that I appreciated. It likely spoke poorly of the city that Coil's organization was the best of the gangs, but that chaos was part of why I moved here in the first place.

"Go on then. What is it?"

"I would like to purchase information from you. As I understand it, The GOAT is a thinker with designs on this city in the form of their proxy, Creed. I would like to know more about them."

"That… is not an unreasonable request," I admitted. In hindsight, it was a little surprising that it had taken a gang leader this long to approach me. I decided to press him on it. "What changed? You could have come to me when Creed first appeared. Why the sudden interest?"

"Hardly sudden, Faultline. I like to consider myself a man who is well-informed of local powers so when a tinker with the resources Creed has appeared out of the blue, well, that was reason enough to begin digging."

"But you've dug up nothing."

"Indeed. Creed's organization is exceptionally well-hidden. As Creed seems to have spurned my attempts at communication, I have decided to look for The GOAT directly."

"You're not alone in that," I told him honestly. It wasn't as though I hadn't tried to find more information myself. And like Coil, I'd unearthed absolutely nothing. It was enough to make me wonder if The GOAT existed at all.

And yet, they existed. Beyond Creed's own word on the matter and ridiculous "crime spree" that no sane villain would attempt otherwise, the fact that he was willing to split his catalog between heroes and civilians implied outside influence, not to mention the information alluded to on Creed's first PHO post. It garnered an unusual response from Miss Militia of all capes, which indicated either a talented hacker who could access her personal files or a social thinker who could read the normally unflappable woman.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Then you can understand the frustration. In the interest of full disclosure, I suspect The GOAT of being a powerful thinker capable of discerning the underlying mechanics behind powers."

"How so? I hadn't realized they'd given the game away."

Quiet chuckles sounded through my phone. "They did. Are you aware that Kid Win finally found his specialization?"

"The Ward? No, I didn't know that. It's good business for mercenaries like myself to stay away from the Wards."

"True enough. Then allow me to share: Kid Win was given a set of LEGOs by Creed, perhaps because he felt his PHO post wasn't being taken seriously. He discovered his specialization, modularity, that same day after playing with those blocks."

"You're certain? That sounds… ludicrous…"

"I am confident in my sources, yes," he said dryly. "Either Creed himself has a second thinker power, or The GOAT instructed him to assist Kid Win. I would like to know why."

I quirked a brow in interest. That was unusual. Was The GOAT the type to hate being ignored? Most people were, thinkers especially. It was possible that they urged Creed to act when they realized the PRT wouldn't follow through on that cryptic PHO thread. Or perhaps they never intended for the PRT to act on the original post and only posted a month in advance just to prove how great their power was?

I scoffed. Thinkers. Egomaniacs, the lot of them. It wasn't worth trying to wrap my head around their thought process.

"That explains why you want the information, not why I'd want to dig deeper. As I mentioned, I've already failed on that front."

"I am willing to provide ten grand per piece of useful intel, no matter how small, as a base. Twenty-five for any indication of The GOAT's true motives. A full hundred for details on their power and location of their headquarters."

I stilled. "That's a lot of money."

"I do not like unknowns, Faultline."

"Unfortunately, I'm going to have to decline. As lucrative as this sounds, I wouldn't know where to begin searching. I told you already, I've already exhausted my own network trying to find out more."

"Not all of your network."

I understood what he was getting at immediately: Creed. I could just ask him to put me in touch. In fact, I was probably the only person in the city whose request might not be rejected offhand. It was a tantalizing proposition, and not just because Coil had deep pockets.

It wasn't lost on me that The GOAT knew powers, and in a way that had stumped the PRT. If they could help a tinker like Kid Win figure out his specialization, what else did they know? Did they know where Case-53s came from? Or maybe they had a way of finding out a cape's personal history? Or, dare I hope, some secret that might hint at reverting back?

I shook my head. It was unlikely in the extreme. It was far more likely that The GOAT's understanding of powers was narrow and applied only to tinkers, which would explain how they earned Creed's loyalty so quickly.

'But what if they know more?' a niggling thought in the back of my mind whispered. Could I deny that chance? Could I deny my family even the slightest chance at closure? If not Newter and Gregor, perhaps they could advise me on how to keep Elle more present? That alone would be priceless. Pressing Creed for a consultation could get me his enmity with nothing to show for it. 'Or it could change everything…'

I wouldn't have to tell Coil anything. No, the payout would be icing on the cake. Now that the idea was in my head, I couldn't readily dismiss it. Creed was a valuable connection, maybe even a friend, but my goal has always been singular: the secrets behind Case-53s.

"I'll consider it," I told him finally. "No promises."

"Of course. Good day, Faultline. Consider this a standing offer."

The moment the call cut out, I called everyone to my office. They arrived a minute later. Gregor strolled in with his typical grace that bellied his size. As he crossed the door, Newter hopped to the wall and scurried along the ceiling before flopping down onto his favorite couch. Elle was comparatively more sedate. She carried a Rubik's cube in her hand; having something to fiddle with helped her concentrate.

This was my team, my family. Creed was a valued ally, but The GOAT could be a precious font of new information. I had to at least run the idea past them. "Everyone, I have a proposal for you all…"

X

Brian Laborn

2010, November 17: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

I paced around the base, trying to clear my head. Things were getting hot, hotter than I was comfortable with. Yesterday, the news talked about a shootout between the ABB and E88 that ended with the arrival of Oni Lee and the deaths of a bunch of gangbangers. It was described as the proof of mounting tensions despite the best efforts of the Protectorate, tensions that we'd strained.

I'd had my doubts about targeting Hookwolf's dogfighting rings before but went ahead with the attacks on the boss' orders. He had us attacking the Empire almost exclusively now. They were morally guilt-free targets, hell, basically a public service even, so what did it say that these jobs made me more anxious than anything else we'd done so far?

"It's exactly what you're thinking," Tats, Lisa now that she was out of costume, said. She sat at the kitchen table, sipping some blend of herbal tea that was supposed to be good for migraines. I doubted it'd help, nothing ever did. She continued when I looked over. "Empire sent people into the area to scope us out. ABB didn't take kindly to it. Oni Lee sent a message."

"Thought the gig was too good to be true." Just because we vanished in smoke didn't mean people couldn't tell the general direction we disappeared to. Our hideout was technically near ABB territory; even the skinheads could put two and two together.

She snorted. "A hundred bucks for each dog freed? Per person? Yeah, no shit, Brian."

"So the boss is trying to what? Start a war?"

"Probably? He doesn't tell me everything."

"Guess, then. Your hunches are usually right."

"Aww, thanks, boss, love you too," she said with her trademark teasing smirk. As much as she liked to make light of it, stroking her ego really was the best way to get her to cooperate. It was like managing Aisha, but admittedly smarter and with less drug money involved.

"So?"

"So yeah, boss wants us to fight Hookwolf. Or get Hookwolf to act more blatantly."

"He's-"

"He's not selling us out or cutting us loose. But yeah, he's making us goad the most violent faction in the Empire."

"Why?" I spat. "We're not a combat team."

"Is anyone our age?" she retorted with a shrug. "As for why, one word: Creed."

"He wants to start a gang war because… because Creed said he'd come down on any instigators?"

"He didn't say that. He said he'd keep the balance, which isn't quite the same thing. But basically, yes. He wants Creed to act. I'm guessing because he wants to know more about his new abilities. Guy's been building, fast."

That couldn't be it. That seemed too… simple? Or maybe too high-level for us? I didn't know which but it felt like there should be more. "And where are we in all this?"

"You know that already. We're the match that lights the fuse. He'll probably have us back off once the ABB and Empire are at war."

"He's stoking a Lung fight."

"Maybe? I think he'd be happy with Creed taking on Hookwolf and Oni Lee. If Creed shows, and he wins, the boss gets a better idea of his tech. If Creed shows and dies, The GOAT loses their agent in this city. If Creed doesn't show, then everyone knows his ultimatum was just hot air. No matter what happens, the boss gets to see some chinks in the ABB and Empire armor. He wins either way."

"And now that Oni Lee got involved, Kaiser has to throw capes at the problem or he seems weak," I sighed. I was no thinker, but it wasn't like I was ignorant of the city's geopolitics either. Image was just as important as power and Kaiser, the man cared about image.

"Yup. Even if he doesn't do anything, Hookwolf will. He's the impatient type and that means Stormtiger and Cricket will likely move with him. At this point, Kaiser can't give orders he knows won't be followed."

"The boss is playing this city like a fiddle. All this just for Creed, huh?"

"Not just for Creed. I'm pretty sure the boss wants to take over the city, sees us as investments. Weakening the gangs is the natural way to go. But yeah, pretty sure the boss tried to buy tech from Creed without any success."

I let out a groan of frustration and walked to the corner. I kept a heavy bag and some weights here; they were good for stress relief if nothing else. Three jabs. Right cross. Left upper. I lost myself in the pace of my routines. As frustrating as it all was, the boss had all our numbers. By giving us a commission per dog, he turned it into a game for Alec. He didn't care about animals, but he'd help to try to get a "high score."

'Kid wouldn't know caution if it crawled up his ass,' I thought. It sometimes felt like he didn't take anything seriously, like life was all a big game to him until that final game over. 'If he was more serious, he'd try harder when I tried to teach him boxing.'

And Rachel… The boss had Rachel at the word "dog." He probably didn't even need to pay her for her to participate but did anyway so she could keep her growing illegal shelter funded. Rachel was a remarkably simple girl in that sense; keep her dogs happy and she'd be as loyal as could be, just like a dog.

Then there was Lisa. She seemed to do whatever the boss wanted, whoever he was. I didn't know what he was giving her, but whatever it was, it was enough. She knew too much and shared too little, though I gathered that was just a thinker thing.

It all left me feeling like I was the leader in name only. I couldn't say no. Even if I wasn't outvoted, there was Aisha to consider. The money I got went to making sure she had clothes, making sure I had a clean apartment I could present to caseworkers.

'Just a little longer,' I told myself. 'If I can get an apartment set up, I can have Aisha move in with me.'

Author's Note

Just something short to close out the arc and specialization. Mind the dates. Melanie's interlude takes place two days after Kid Win's.

A mid-sized club or bar can spend anywhere from $6,000 to $13,000 per month on alcohol. In 2011, that would be roughly $4,400 to $9,600 after adjusting backwards for inflation. In that sense, Melanie's Palanquin is doing quite well, as you'd expect of an alcohol vendor in a city as depressing as Brockton.

Yeah… Coil is interested in Creed for sure, but between a tinker who's (sorta) a known quantity and a shady thinker in the background, he's going to fixate on the thinker every time. Call it thinker-induced hubris, but he tends to think highly of people he views as similar to himself. And he sounds so darn reasonable, too!

There was supposed to be a PHO addition to this but I decided against it when I realized I got a bit carried away. That omake is Spontaneous Duck, which is either in the index somewhere or in the separate omake thread (if you're reading this from FFnet or Ao3).

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.