Surge 3.3

2010, October 30: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

I appeared in the Palanquin's upstairs lounge, startling several of the patrons.

The upstairs lounge, reserved for VIPs, was likewise decorated with festive spirit. Rather than spider webs, the walls had been covered in a scale pattern starting from one corner that faded smoothly into fractals and mazes. Looking closer, I could see pictures of jack-o-lanterns and bats embossed in a tasteful gold that tied the orange scales and green mazes together nicely.

Faultline sat with Gregor and Labyrinth at end closest to the balcony, where she could overlook her domain in full. Rather than their usual masks, Faultline and Labyrinth wore simple domino masks that left their lower jaws bare so they could eat and drink.

The ceiling was a bit lower there, casting them in shadow and providing some hint of privacy. The acoustics of the building had also been arranged so that the music wasn't quite as loud here. I spied Newter in another corner close to the bar, a gaggle of inebriated girls surrounding him.

Choosing to leave Newter to his fun for the night, I made my way over to Faultline, arms spread and a wide smile on my face. "Faultline, Gregor, Labyrinth! Thank you for the invitation, my friends," I called, louder than strictly necessary.

"Good evening, Creed," the owner of the club said, standing. She extended a hand and I laid a soft kiss on the knuckle. Unlike the guests, she didn't bat an eye at my sudden appearance. "A bit late for pageantry, don't you think?"

I took a seat next to Gregor and leaned back into the plush cushion. "What can I say? Tonight is a night for masks."

"So it is. I take it you were enjoying the festivities?"

"Indeed, Sparkles is one of the funny drunks."

I spied a ghost of a smile. "I have it on good authority that she did not drink enough to get drunk tonight. Will you make nicknames for every hero you meet?"

"Not Panacea. I respect her too much to mock the name. Why? Jealous?"

"Hardly. I'm quite happy with my name, thank you."

"As am I," Gregor said in his smooth baritone. "Would you care for a drink, my friend?"

I looked around the table. Faultline nursed a glass of whiskey on the rocks with a single orange peel curled around the ice. Gregor had a margarita glass full of some fragrant liquid that was green on top and pink on the bottom. Labyrinth wore her shawl like a quilt and nursed a cup of coke.

"Sorry, I actually came up here because I didn't think I could drink more and be in a crowd without doing something stupid. Mind if I grab some water?"

"Of course, it's good for a man to know his limits." He waved and a waitress hurried over. Like the bartenders downstairs, she wore a cocktail dress, but unlike theirs, hers was a tasteful black and didn't show nearly as much skin. The dress was accented in orange and gold, much like the rest of the room. A short, orange feather boa completed the outfit.

"Gregor, what is it exactly that you're drinking? It smells great."

"It is a custom cocktail that Ethan made for me. Since opening the Palanquin, I've had many chances to try different drinks and I have discovered that I have a bit of a sweet tooth."

"It tastes like watermelon," Labyrinth said. "Coke is better."

"Of course," the Case 53 said indulgently before turning back to me. "How has business been going?"

"I'm swamped, or I would be if I accepted the requests I got on PHO. Some of those are just plain ridiculous though."

"Oh?"

"About twenty percent of my inbox are death threats from Empire or Merchant accounts. Another twenty percent are just questions about my intentions for the city. There was that request from Velocity to come report to the PRT, too. Of the actual questions about my products, more than half of them were jokes. I mean, seriously, some asshat wanted me to make him fetish gear for his sex dungeon using Germa fibers so the ropes won't break."

"That sounds… suspicious."

"I know, right? I reported that account to Smaug Mama and moved on. I did receive an introductory message from Uppercrust and Big Rig though, so that was nice."

"Are you interested in the Elite and Toybox?"

"More Uppercrust and Big Rig in particular," I said. "I have no interest in any other Elite cell but the New York branch. Bastard Son needs to be put down like the dog he is. As for Toybox… How upset would you be if I replied to Big Rig?"

Faultline shrugged. "Not very, so long as you keep our current arrangement. I am a professional, Creed. We understand that yesterday's enemies can become today's allies and we conduct our business with that in mind. No sentimentality, no grudges, even if the other side feels differently."

"Excellent, and I told you, we're friends. I'm not going to leave you hanging because Toybox offered me a deal. Besides, like I said, I'm mostly interested in Big Rig. He's got several designs for construction drones that I want."

Labyrinth perked up at that. "Are you building a house?"

"Kind of," I said with a smile. "I'm thinking about turning my lab into a mobile fortress."

"I want to help." A marble pillar rose between us. Atop that pillar was a flawless sculpture depicting a castle on a hill. It shifted as I watched into the very recognizable Taj Mahal, and then some kind of Chinese pagoda taller than I thought was realistically possible had it been made of wood. "I know lots of castles."

"Thanks, Labs, but it's not that kind of fortress. I want to make a fortress that can move, to be where I need it no matter when or why."

The pagoda grew a rounded dome at the very top with a needle. At its sides, three wings sprouted to form a rocket, or her best approximation of one. It was honestly really cute. "Like this?"

"Not quite."

The pagoda flattened down like some angry god smooshed it into the earth. A western medieval castle grew from its remains, as did a mountain that almost-but-not-quite pinched itself at the base in a rough diamond shape. It looked like something out of Howl's Moving Castle. "How about now?"

"No, I'm thinking more like a ship. I don't think it'll be a building in the normal sense, sorry."

"Aww…" She looked dejected for a moment, then perked up again. "Can I help decorate?"

'Am I ready to share the lab with someone else?' I thought about the question. Amy knew where it was, but she was as loyal as they came. As manipulative as it was, her neuroses would keep her from just leading the heroes to my doorstep unless I crossed some major lines. Nor could she even get there on her own for that matter.

But Faultline's Crew… They had no interest in the city, but I knew that they could be convinced to intervene here if given enough incentive. I wanted to think that they were friends, and that the feeling was mutual, but money talked, and Faultline certainly spoke the language. I was saved from having to answer by Faultline.

"Labyrinth, I don't think Creed wants anyone to know where his lab is."

"I don't," I agreed, shooting her a grateful nod, "but she wouldn't be the first to visit. Tell you what, Labs, I'll give you your own room and you can decorate it as you please when I finish building the whole thing, okay? Then it'll be mobile and a far lesser security risk to show it off."

"Promise?"

"Promise," I said. It was one promise I'd make easily. By the time I was proud enough of my ship to allow someone else on board, I'd also be strong enough to dissuade all but the strongest threats in the world.

Labyrinth nodded and went back to scanning the dance floor aimlessly. I wasn't sure what she found so interesting about the sea of pulsing bodies and strobing lights, but she seemed amused so I left her to it.

"So your lab is big enough that you can assign rooms to guests, huh?" Faultline said with a smirk.

I coughed awkwardly. "You know what we need? A change of topic. Say, Gregor, how'd you end up joining the Crew?"

He laughed but went along with me. "There is not much to tell, my friend. I will caution you however that not all Case 53s are as comfortable with our origins, or lack thereof, as I am."

"Shit, sorry," I apologized. It came to me that asking a Case 53 about their earliest memories could be seen in much the same way as asking a cape about their trigger. "That was insensitive, wasn't it?"

"Do not mind it. You asked how I came to join Faultline, though my origins are tied to it. My earliest memories, like most like me, are not pleasant. I woke up in the sewers, with not a scrap of clothing to my name. When I emerged, people fled from my appearance. The Detroit Protectorate even thought I was a biotinker's creation for a time. It was a cape from one of the many gangs there that stopped to speak with me first, someone by the name of Cabaret. She ran a club similar to the Palanquin and employed me as a bouncer. It was during the off hours that I taught myself to read, write, and use modern technology."

"That's impressive. I don't know if I could do that." I was reminded again that despite appearances, Gregor was anything but a brute. His bulky frame bellied a self-reflective and philosophical mind that thought deeply.

"Thank you. I spent two years with Cabaret until one of her rivals, Volcanic, set fire to her club. Cabaret passed away." He sounded genuinely morose as he remembered his first employer and likely friend. "The event made me seek my prospects elsewhere and over the course of several weeks, I made my way to Philadelphia, where I met Faultline."

Here, Faultline took over. "I offered him a deal: He would join me as my partner and I would do whatever it took to help him find the truth behind Case 53s."

"And… Have you?"

"No, we've found little. Due to recent events in Philadelphia, we were forced to relocate to Brockton Bay. We do not intend to give up."

Gregor placed the remains of his cocktail on the coaster. "Indeed. While Newter and I are both comfortable with our bodies, we wish to know who we were, if only to put it behind us."

I nodded. "Makes sense. It's a worthwhile goal."

I couldn't do it now, but there were plenty of fictions out there where growing an entire body in a vat was feasible. It was very possible that one day, I would have the means to move someone's consciousness into a new vessel. In that event, would the Shard remain? Would it go berserk like with Noelle? Or in the worst scenario, without a human mind, would I inadvertently create a titan? I wanted so badly to offer Gregor hope, to say that one day, I could fix him, but those words died in my throat. He didn't even know I could biotinker and I wanted it to stay that way, for now.

"Ah… Faultline..." Before either of us could say more, Labyrinth drew our attention to the dance floor. We looked where she pointed and saw three men surrounding my sister and friends.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

We couldn't hear them from here, but Sierra and Michelle were standing with Sabah between and behind them, arms crossed defensively. One of the three men leaned forward aggressively. Whatever was said, it made the girls shrink back even further. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Labyrinth sink into the couch, hands wrapping around her elbows.

Faultline looked them over for a bare two seconds before sighing. "Empire wannabes," she growled, out of irritation more than any actual concern, like someone who just found out they forgot to do laundry. "There's always a few."

"How can you tell?"

"Most of their aggression seems to be on the Indian girl."

"I don't like them," the waifish blonde whispered.

One of them reached out to grab Sierra's arm and I saw red.

"Arabic," I corrected her without thinking. I stood, sparks dancing from my fists. "I know this is your club, Faultline, but if you don't kick them out, I will."

"You know them?"

"Friends of mine out of costume."

She looked at me, then at Labyrinth, and nodded before waving to a waitress. "Sit down, Creed. Let me handle this. As you said, it's my club."

I took a deep breath and reluctantly took my seat. "Thank you, Faultline. And thank you, Labyrinth, for finding them," I said. I didn't think the blonde heard me. "The redhead's name is Sierra. The brunette is Michelle and the Arabic girl is Sabah. Sierra and Sabah aren't the clubbing type, but I can guess why they're here. I don't want this to be the highlight of their night so…"

"Say no more." The waitress hurried over and Faultline whispered angrily in her ear. She wasn't the one she was mad at, but she paled anyway. "I'll have them brought up as an apology. Food and drinks on me tonight. I take it you can pretend to be a stranger for an evening?"

"Yes," I said, relieved. They shouldn't have to end their night this way. "Or I'll just make myself scarce. Either way, I owe you one."

"Don't mention it. You are not the only one who finds such men… vexing."

"Gang members will sometimes visit the club," Gregor said in his smooth, jazz band accent. "Most of them are here for recreational purposes and we leave them be, but there have been several who have intentionally sought to cause trouble."

"Why do you let them in at all?"

"Like those three, they don't always wear their colors on their sleeves. It is not until they act that we can see their true allegiance."

"I also cannot ban gang members so long as they do not start fighting," Faultline added. She met my disgruntled glare coolly. "Think calmly, Creed. I am neutral, and that means treating all equally, even if I don't like it."

Beside her, Labyrinth brought her cup to her lips with shaking hands. "Please don't fight."

"We're not fighting, Labs. I'm sorry for worrying you." I let out a frustrated sigh. "I hate politics sometimes."

"Politics is a tool, one you've used well enough so far, but it can just as easily inconvenience you."

"So I'm learning."

"Faultline," Gregor said firmly. He gestured not to Labyrinth, but to her feet.

I looked and couldn't quite suppress a gasp. The warm, hardwood floor of the Palanquin had been replaced by cold, white porcelain. The sofa she sat on became a cot on rickety metal. It was like watching the world be rolled up like a scroll, the wallpaper of reality being peeled back to reveal the ugly truth beneath. Labyrinth had fully retreated into herself and pulled her knees to her chest, making the already slim girl look positively diminutive.

"Shit," she swore. She glanced down and saw Sabah, Sierra, and Michelle make their way upstairs, led by a smiling waitress. "Gregor, take her too her room."

The large man swept Labyrinth up in his arms and began to lumber away. I stood to follow. I didn't know what I could do, but I felt that I had to see this. Maybe it was because she was the first to receive a full costume from me, but in the short time I'd known her, the quiet girl had grown on me.

Faultline grabbed me by the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Creed, but we'll handle things from here."

"I want to help."

"We're just going to put her to sleep. It's fine. Keep your friends company."

I saw that she wouldn't budge so I collapsed back into my seat.

I sighed and considered looking for the door. The night started fun, a lovely chat with three pretty girls, a nice buzz courtesy of my favorite barkeep, and even some bonding time with my closest allies. Now though, Sabah, Michelle, and Sierra were coming up and Faultline and co. were obviously busy. I could feel the buzz of alcohol starting to wear off so I gave the bouncer a respectful nod and dipped out into the night.

X

2010, October 31: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

It was almost one in the morning when I arrived back in my room. I was tired, more emotionally than physically, but there was one more thing I wanted to do before I hit the hay. The gravity child serum was complete, had been complete for a day or so now, and it was time for me to inject it into myself. I didn't know how long it'd take for my body to undergo the changes catalyzed by the serum, so I had to do it tonight or wait a full week. Sunday was free, Monday was not.

I held the vial in my hand and held it to the light. The serum was a nearly uniform cobalt with some hints of silver sheen. It had a milky tint to it and to the untrained eye, it could have passed for mercury.

I pulled out a pack of non-prescription contacts I'd bought in textured disguise just for this purpose and set them under my pillow. SAINT popped out of my PokéNav as I settled into bed.

"SAINT, the serum should knock me out for several hours, six at minimum but more likely eight to ten. Could you put the syringe out of sight? I don't want mom coming in to wake me in the morning and freak out thinking I overdosed or something."

"Porygon," he nodded.

I reached out and gave him a scritch beneath the bill. "Thanks, bud, you're the best. Salted almonds are in the third drawer. Don't be seen."

Instructions given, I found the vein on the crook of my elbow and pressed the injector. A hypodermic needle popped out with a muted sting. I pressed the plunger and watched the liquid silver sink into my veins.

Then the world became a little fuzzy and inky blackness crawled up the sides of my vision.

X

I woke up to the sun glaring down on me from my window. I closed my eyes against the harsh light and instinctively reached for a pillow to cover my face. The sudden ache stopped my hand cold, forcing a groan from my lips.

I learned a valuable truth that day: Alcohol and superpower granting serums did not mix. Sure, there were no permanent negative effects, but hangovers weren't exactly fun to deal with, especially when just moving made my muscles ache something fierce.

"Wow, what the hell happened to you, bro?" My sister's voice came from beside me. "You're not usually this lazy. What happened to your morning run?"

"Get out," I managed a pathetic mumble. I couldn't even muster the anger at her being in my room.

She did not leave. Instead, she slapped a palm down hard on my stomach, squeezing out a loud whoomph from my lungs. "Oh, come on, Bryce. Mom's already back from church and making lunch. Get up!"

"Gahh!" I shouted. Just for a moment, I felt my aura respond and almost hurl my sister through the wall. I thankfully managed to leash it in time. Instead of the retaliation she so rightly deserved, I turned on my side and curled into a ball. "Sis, seriously, fuck off."

"Bryce, you alright?" she asked, concerned now. "I didn't hit you that hard, did I?"

"You didn't. I think I pulled something while I was jogging yesterday," I lied. "Can you please leave?"

"Alright, little bro, but come down for lunch in fifteen minutes, 'kay?"

I muttered something vaguely resembling assent and waited for her to leave before drawing the curtains shut using Psychic. Now in blissful shade, I opened my eyes.

I saw more. No, not metaphorically, I literally saw more. Colors were more vivid, details more distinct. Pooky, the stuffed bear my sister gifted me as a joke when I was seven, sat atop my desk as he always did. Except now, I could count every last fraying hair if I wanted to. More, I could track the movement of a fleck of dust that floated onto the bear's nose. It was a remarkable amount of detail. I now had eyes that could compare favorably with a bird of prey's.

"Right, the twinkle eye," I muttered, "that's a thing gravity children have."

The twinkle eye was called that because the pupils of gravity children could contract into crosses, giving the illusion of "twinkles." The cross shapes formed large horizontal and vertical apertures, allowing for accurate gauging of distance. Because they were cross-shaped instead of larger circles, they blocked excess light, minimizing loss of detail.

My retinas now also boasted two intersecting linear foveae, sections of retinas that contained cone cells to best use the new pupil shape. The twinkle eye granted no powers, I could neither warp time and space nor see through miles of solid rock like something out of Naruto, but it was in itself a marvel of biology.

I crawled out of bed and did my best to ignore the massive migraine pounding nails into my skull. I felt through the bond more than saw SAINT come out of the small nest I'd built for him in the closet. He nudged my hand with the contacts I'd hidden beneath my pillow.

"Thanks, bud," I spoke softly, but even that sent a twinge of pain through my skull. Then, I got the bright idea to try and avoid the body-wide ache by lifting myself with Psychic. I immediately fell down, my head curled gingerly in my hands.

"Rgghhh..." That was a terrible idea, the kind that made me sympathize with Lisa and Dinah.

I lay there contemplating my own stupidity before slowly getting up, first on my hands and knees, then on my feet when the world stopped spinning. I palmed my contacts and went to the bathroom to put them on. My reflection stared back at me, cross-shaped pupils set in an otherwise unremarkable face. I allowed myself a moment to take in my new appearance before inserting the contacts.

Or, trying. Poorly.

Eventually, I stopped bruising my own eyeballs and managed to insert them properly.

Already, the ache was fading, to be replaced by the increased coordination and proprioception that came with being a gravity child. I helped it along with generous use of Recover.

Finally ready, I headed down to eat with my mom and sister. I took a seat at the table and my wonderful mother placed a bowl of linguine carbonara before me. I had to remind myself that I'd slept through breakfast.

"Smells great, mom." I barely got the words out of my mouth before inhaling a forkful of eggy, bacon-y noodles.

"Bryce, what kept you? You're not usually the type to sleep 'til noon," mom said.

I savored the buttery noodles and salty guanciale before answering. "I don't know. I guess it was a combination of stuff. I think I pulled something when I was out jogging yesterday. Then I stayed up late researching the Canary trial for a world issues project. I'm not sure when I went to bed, but I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"Do you want me to look at your back? I am a chiropractor, you know."

"Nah, it's fine, mom. It's not that bad."

"Okay, but come to me if it gets worse."

"Wil do."

We ate in companionable silence for several minutes before mom turned to Sierra. "So, honey, how was your night?"

"Ah… Slept at Sabah's. You know, did some student things."

Mom looked utterly unamused. "I was your age too, once. It's not hard to tell you were at a Halloween party. I'm not mad."

"You're not?"

"I just want you to tell me where you're going, dear. Besides, I trust Sabah to be responsible."

"Oh. Oww… You trust Sabah over your own daughter."

"I know you," she said like that explained everything. To be fair, between the three of us, it did. "So? How was it?"

"Not too bad. I met Crystal, Victoria, and Amy from New Wave." She grinned teasingly at me. "I asked Amy what she thought of you, Bryce. Do you want to know what she said?"

I rolled my eyes. She might have met them and asked after I'd left, otherwise she was full of it, but I couldn't exactly call her out on it. "I'm sure she told you that I'm a pain in the ass."

"She did, it was super cute."

"What part of Amy Dallon is cute?"

"Denial and puppy love. She cares about you, you know. For someone who calls you a pain in the ass, she had an awful lot of things to say about you."

"I'm sure she can tell you more about testicular cancer than you'll ever need to know. Knowledge doesn't mean fondness. We're friends, for the hundredth time."

"Sure, Bryce, sure," she winked conspirationally.

Sierra was my big sister. She'd never stop giving me shit over my "relationship" with Amy; it was what big sisters did. Rather than argue with her, I turned to mom with a change in topic. "Mom, I need some advice. I got my second tutoring client the other day named Hannah. I'm having a hard time getting her to study though. How do I motivate her?"

"Hmm, I suppose you wouldn't have been hired if she was the studious sort. You need to be firm with her."

"I am, but I think the problem is that she's in eighth grade. She thinks she can act out because I'm basically the same age as her." I wasn't expecting much in the way of advice, more venting for the sake of venting. "I miss Matt… or Mike… Whatever his name was…"

Sierra took a bite of her carbonara and slurped up a stray noodle. Now that we were talking about more serious topics, she was happy to drop the teasing. "Matt's that cape geek you tutored last, right? How'd you get him to study?"

"I phrased algebra as real-world problems involving cape fights and introduced him to physics equations. You know, speed, force, that sort of thing. Why?"

"Well, maybe you can do that? What's she interested in?"

"As far as I can tell? She's a pretty stereotypical popular girl. You know, glitter, ripped jeans, Glory Girl obsession, attached with a death grip to her phone, the works. I don't think she's going to be interested in real life applications of algebra. It's only been a week and I want to hurt her."

"Bryce…" mom trailed warningly.

"I know, I know. No maiming people who give me money… Don't worry, I'm much nicer to her in person. She's just… she's the type of person who'll smile for the adults but do whatever she wants the moment she thinks she can get away with it."

"Yeah, wish I could help, bro, but I don't really have any advice for you. I mean, I'm supposed to be tutoring you but you've always been really studious so I never had to do that."

Mom jabbed a fork in my direction. "Wait, honey, don't you know Glory Girl?"

"Yeah, mom. Victoria is a friend of mine. What about her?"

"Well how about getting Victoria to meet with her?"

I brightened and gave her a big, fake smile. "Thanks, mom, that's a great idea. I can have Vicky shake her down a bit. Think she'd be willing to hang Hannah from the flagpole?"

Sierra kicked me under the table while mom slapped my shoulder. "Bryce!" They said together.

"Kidding, kidding. Mostly…"

"I mean, what if you can have Victoria give her a talking to?"

"What? Use my heroic friend's reputation to get her to study? That seems… juvenile."

"Oh, I know!" Sierra exclaimed. "How about something more natural? Like, agree to go out for dinner with your friends after tutoring and have Glory Girl swoop down to meet you at the school parking lot so that Hannah girl can watch."

A part of me wanted to reject that idea out of hand, but the more I thought about it, the better it sounded. Vicky was the polar opposite of Amy; she had no trouble flaunting her celebrity status in the name of helping others. "That… that might work. It's petty as fuck, but maybe…?"

"Language," mom said reproachfully.

"I'll talk with her on Monday and see if she'd be willing to help me out. If not, well… I might have to give back the money Mrs. Chong paid me and apologize."

Author's Note

Nothing to say, so have an animal fact: Polar bears are black. Yes, they actually have black skin and blubber. As for their fur, the white color actually comes from the structure of their hair follicles. The follicles are translucent and reflect the nearest source of light, which in most cases tends to be snow.

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.