WAKING WITH A GIANT HEADACHE, I REALIZED I WAS HAPHAZARDLY SLUMPED OVER A TABLE, BARELY SHOVED INTO A CHAIR. BLINKING, I THOUGHT BACK. GRIMACING, A HAND CAME UP, AND I RUBBED MY HEAD AS LAWRENCE GLANCED UP FROM WHERE HE WAS. LOOKING AROUND THE PLAIN ROOM, I SAW A METAL TABLE, A GIANT MIRROR BEHIND LAWRENCE, AND TWO METAL CHAIRS. AN INTERROGATION ROOM. HUH.
“I see you are awake,” Lawrence mused with a sigh, setting his iPad down, onto his lap. I observe him closely. Was he related to Savant? A half-brother?
I blinked. They looked nothing alike, aside from the fact that their suits matched their hair. Lawrence was thin, but he had no muscle substance, and his facial structure was wrong. Not to mention he was several shades lighter, and a more pale, ivory color than Savant’s smooth olive skin.
Swallowing, mouth oddly dry and cottony, I cough to clear my throat, then speak, “Where’s Savant?”
Lawrence’s expression turned quizzical, “You two. He asked where you were as well, when he woke up. In any case, you will be able to meet up with him and attempt to kill the other after you and I properly meet.”
I watched as Lawrence stood up, and after a moment I did too, when he held out his hand. I gripped it firmly, almost crushing his hand before he tightened his grip, and we shook hands.
The air sounded weird, I noted. A slow hissing sound, rasping like paper scraping against stone. That was the only other noise, everything else quiet. Not the normal sounds of city life. Nothing. The air was stale, but it didn’t have a particular taste, or scent, which allowed me to smell Lawrence. He smelled… Blue? He smelled like the blue flavor of airheads, like candy blueberry.
I tried not reacting to the idea even as we dropped our hands and sat. My lips twitched. Was his tongue blue, too? Coated in some blue foods? I bet I could guess his favorite color. Unlike Savant, who, surprisingly, liked the color lavender. It made me feel odd, that I recalled that even after all this time.
Nostalgia filled me even as my thoughts drifted at the cold feeling of the metal chair beneath me. The hard back pressed into me as I leaned into it.
Lawrence, after a moment of adjusting his iPad, spoke, “I, as you know, am Lawrence. It is nice to officially meet you, after the distraction Savant seemed to have caused. I am your liaison, your connection to the Hero Association. We would like to extend an offer, from Association to you, Quantify.”
My eyebrows rose, and I waited as I stared at him. Savant spoke with me about it. He’d been a neutra, a person who used their powers notably without being a hero nor villain, before he’d become a hero. That was presumably why his name was much less on-the-nose and blatantly bad. The Hero Association promised him endless resources to grow his powers, of which he hasn’t yet told me what they are, and in return he’d stop helping villains.
Savant managed to barter them down to where he’d only help villains if they required his specific help, and only if they’d make concessions decided on by the Association, for a bit less money and a lot more resources.
“Right,” Lawrence said, and my attention was broken as I watched him shake his head, “Much less talkative when Savant isn’t around, then. The offer is such: We will give you a monthly stipend of ten thousand dollars for the next ten years, coming to a total of one million two hundred thousand dollars. In return, for those ten years, you will allow us to look over your villain theories and videos before you post them, as well as personally helping our affiliated heroes grow their powers. The time can be extended if you prove useful during those ten years, but it would essentially be an employment contract.”
I tilted my head, humming as I thought. That… wasn’t a bad offer. It really just depended on what they meant by “look over” my theories and videos before I post them. It didn’t even mention an exclusivity deal, which I’d expected. The exclusivity deal would’ve been a deal breaker anyway, as I was eighty percent certain an online friend I had was a villain, living in London.
“By look over, you mean…”
“Edit,” Lawrence explained, “Prevent the villain from gaining any ideas from the videos. We will also grant you an editor with which to use on either of your channels, so that your theories do not have to be as spread out as they are.”
I tilted my head. Edit. I’d lose a lot of viewers, as over sixty percent of my content revolved around villainy. Not to mention my massive donors were probably the villains in question. I shook my head.
“Nah. Was that all?” I asked, standing up.
Lawrence immediately paled, and he stood up, “What do you mean no?”
I gave him a raised-eyebrow look, “I mean, no. Maybe if you made me put a giant pay-wall for the theories, but to not let me say parts of them at all? For me to be censored like that as well as having to be at your beck and call whenever you get a new hero? No, thanks though! I appreciate the offer. Have a good day, blue guy.”
“Bl- wait, wait!” Lawrence tripped over his own feet, back pressed against the door as he looked down, meeting my eyes. His brown iris’ were thick, pupils dilated. The eyes themselves were wide, and he looked shocked, eyebrows raised and mouth fluttering open and closed, “20,000 a month.”
“…” I sighed, bringing out my phone, “Do I have to call Savant? This is so lame.”
“No, no, wait, please, I need- I mean, we, the Hero Association, need this!” Lawrence begged, all sensibility and logic lost in the moment as he took my phone and clutched it desperately to his chest.
I observed him for a moment, humming a long, flat tone as I stared him in the eye. This would earn him a promotion. Or a giant pay raise, at least.
It was tempting, though. I’d have access to more heroes and their powers than ever before. I’d know Savant’s powers. I’d know Stalker’s, I’d know Sun’s. But the edits… No. I couldn’t fuck myself and my viewers like that.
“Fifteen thousand, access to the knowledge of every hero, villain, or neutra’s power that the association has access to, and I can post my theories in full, but you can edit the free ones, as well as tell me which heroic theories I can’t post, as long as they are under the Association’s jurisdiction, and I can make the pay wall a ridiculously high one, if you really, really dislike the idea.”
“How high?” Lawrence asked.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Dunno yet. Few thousand? Hundred thousand? Something like that, with an extra fee doubling or tripling the amount to make it only visible to the person who payed for it, especially if it’s a dangerous villain I’m doing it on. I guess for each theory we can debate over how high the ridiculous price must be.”
“Ten thousand, and the price can’t be lower than twenty thousand.”
“Lower than five thousand.”
“Ten?”
“Hm… Twelve thousand a month, and the price can’t be lower than ten thousand.”
“Deal,” Lawrence said, and I reached out a hand. We shook on it, “I’ll get to work writing up the paperwork.”
“Mm, will I have to contact Law-Rend?” I asked, name-dropping a neutra lawyer who absolutely shredded the justice system with his natural charisma, perfect recall, and intimate knowledge of each and every law in every big city, state, country, and continent.
“N-no, I’ll make it straightforward,” Lawrence said, looking more relieved than I thought he would after I heavily ripped him off.
Villains stole money, they’d have no issue paying any number of ridiculous fee if they wanted to know, and if I made it so the smaller fee would make the theory public, with a shout-out to the donor in a very anonymous way, then it’d just be easy.
Not… that I thought anyone would actually pay the fees. I just… I didn’t feel right, not having my theories accessible, even if no one could actually access them. I knew if a villain wanted to, enough, they could hack into it, or some other hacker could, and then I’d just freely post it, because I genuinely enjoyed the newcomers who spoke of my videos, who added theories or debunked them.
The paycheck from the ads were nice, too.
Lawrence’s head jerked, and he hesitated, a frown appearing on his face. The frown increased as he looked at me.
“Oh, right, before I write anything up,” Lawrence said, “We’ll create the website that protects the unedited theories. That way no one can easily hack into the websites, as we’ll use Defen-Sex to create the pay wall, the video catalog, and all the other things that will be required,” I pulled my lips into my mouth, but he continued, “This isn’t negotiable. You will be put into contact with him, of course.”
Defen-Sex. A neutra who wasn’t actually really a neutra, as he was like me and just really good at his chosen hobby, which just so happened to be making impenetrable websites.
I frowned, “Then I’ll have full control of the website, and the Hero Association can’t monitor the IP addresses of whoever enters and leaves the website. It will be wholly anonymous, and any large payments won’t be looked into.”
“With the agreement that you, yourself, cannot pay for the theories to be publicized, as well as you cannot commission someone else to publicize them.”
“And it will be written into the contract that if either of us betray or breach the contract, not only will we be financially ruined, but we will have to shut down our organizations, mine being my two channels, as well as any others I may create, and yours being the Hero Association in full. With, of course, a bi-yearly check up by an unbiased third party.”
Lawrence paled.
“Shouldn’t be a bad deal, as long as the Hero Association doesn’t plan to go against what the contract says, right?”
“I-I cannot personally agree to such a thing.”
“Cool!” I shrugged, not expecting anything else, “Then give me my phone, and—”
The speakers in the room, which I hadn’t noticed until they shrieked as they were turned on, fizzled for a moment.
“Don’t worry, you don’t need to add that clause, Quantify. I can make sure that the IP addresses can’t be tracked, and will be randomized in the website’s records after they leave the website, with no chance of recovering the actual IP address. The payments will be easy enough to make anonymous to both you and others, and as long as you give the HA your bank info, I can block any possible method of you paying, though I can’t really track it beyond that, the HA will have to figure that out,” The illustrious, squeaky voice of Defen-Sex rang out.
I shrugged, “I’m agreeable, then. Now. Really, really important to the actual signing of the contract, whenever it is written up.”
Lawrence focused.
“My phone.”
Glancing down, his face turned a nice shade of pink as he scrambled, practically shoving my phone at me and stepping out of the way of the door, clearing his throat as he straightened, once more looking like the epitome of professionalism.
“I will have a contract written up, then,” Lawrence said.
“Great. Bye,” I awkwardly agreed, leaving. Looking around, I saw two hallways.
A door opened, and Defen-Sex came out, as well as Reader, and a groggy-looking Savant who was holding his head. Reader was a hero who could read minds. No wonder Lawrence off-handedly added in that Defen-Sex would make the website, if he was there. Why, though?
“To test if he could create a machine that could have the same effects as my powers,” Reader muttered, bags under his tired brown eyes, hair the same color ragged and scruff rough and unshaven in what appeared to be weeks. He had rimless wire glasses, and he wore a hoodie and shorts, hairy legs connecting to long black socks, feet shoved into slides. Had he not smelled like he was weeks into a depression, I might have found him cute.
Was that the reason I didn’t have powers? Did I have to be inherently beautiful, sexy, cute, or hot in order to gain powers? I have yet to see an ugly person with powers. That meant that in order to gain powers… did I have to work out or something? Look cuter? Learn make-up?
“Mmgh, thanks, kid, but I’m too old for you,” Reader groaned, rough, groggy voice interrupting my thoughts, and once again reminding me of his smell as he stretched, arms raising, “I feel like I’m weeks into depression, too. Defen-Sex apparently doesn’t need sleep, or free-time.”
“Those are for people without hobbies,” Defen-Sex said reasonably.
“People without a life, you mean. Who needs sleep or free-time when you can have fun doing neither of those things?” I agreed.
“Me,” Reader snapped, looking like the world was doing him an injustice. His eyes, which had been glaring at Defen-Sex, turned to me, looking just as angry, “The world is an injustice. I don’t want to hear your shitty thoughts. Leave me alone.”
My thoughts weren’t that shitty. It wasn’t like I was thinking any mean or bad thoughts. I was just thinking of the probability of creating a hive-mind—
“Ugh, please, you guys. Stop thinking. I need…” Reader fell asleep. Defen-Sex scowled, but sighed as he turned to me, holding out a hand.
“Hello! I’m Defen-Sex. Yes, I chose my own name,” He said without my prompting, “You’re Quantify, right? You’re like me. A genius in one specific topic?”
I frowned, shaking my head, “No, not really. I just ask really easy questions, but apparently no one else does.”
“Ah, I feel that,” Defen-Sex said cheerily, glimmering green eyes and messy blond hair everywhere, hiding most of his pudgy face.
It occurred to me that somewhere along the way everyone I’d met, in one way or another, had given up on actually doing their hair. I guessed it must have been a hero, neutra, villain, or genius civilian thing, as I had my long, flowing, amazing dark chocolate hair in a pony-tail, and my manager and the receptionist did as well. How long ago was that, again?
“So. I’ll probably not start on the website just yet, but it should be done within the week, which is more than can be said for the contract,” Defen-Sex said, shrugging as he groaned into a stretch as well, “Maybe more if I get too bored and decide to sleep or eat.”
Reader snored, loudly, and we all observed the standing man. He was shorter than Savant by a lot, about the same height as me. He really did look tired. Defen-Sex looked up at him curiously, frowning.
“Punt…” Savant said after a moment, voice odd. When I looked at him, though, he was just shaking his head, pointing behind me, “The exit is that way.”
Shrugging, I bobbed my head once, before turning and walking away without another word.