“Control circuits, too. They love putting those in. Self-defense, they say. More like petty revenge.” Mr. Hill rolled his eyes, took another bite of cable, and closed his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them, he was serious. “Okay, Dillon, you got yourself a partner. I’ll have my lawyers draft us up something nice and legal we both agree on. I will hold ta that document, so you better have what you want set in stone when it is drawn up.
“If you screw me, I will hunt you down and kill you. If you think your little sparks will save you, well, I’ve eaten actual lightning strikes before. Helped my digestion. Do we understand one another?”
“Yes, sir, we do, sir!” Dillon agreed quickly.
“You will stay away from gambling until your casino debt is clear. I will talk ta them about what we are going ta do to clear your debt. My word will be enough to give you time. Girl, how fast can we get some more of that volturium cable for him to work on?”
“Midas controls the wholesale market in the States. It will require a trip to Boston. He has a precious metals warehouse there where he artificially creates shortages of certain metals.”
“Huh. So he’ll shaft us on the price as soon as he realizes the value.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, we’re gonna need an alternate supplier of the stuff.”
“The primary source is in Venezuela, at Lake Maracaibo, sir. Midas secured the rights to the area, which has the most lightning strikes in the world.”
“Lightning, huh. Well, lemme think on it.” He rose all the way to his seven feet of height, looming over Dillon and I. He flicked out a business card, which he handed to Dillon. Grimm Materials, it said on it, with an address. “We’ll be working out of here. I have your number. Unless I call you ta say otherwise, be there tomorrow at noon, and we’ll get to work. I promise we’ll have something ta do by the evening, even if I call you.”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” Dillon said, clutching the card like a lifeline, and clearly resisting the urge to salute. He settled for shaking the bigger man’s hand, and had a big smile on his face as he headed out the door.
-------
We both watched him go, giving him a minute to get ahead of us, and then headed out ourselves.
There was a charity gambling event going on to raise money for some of the people who had lost their homes in the Atlantean attack, or lost loved ones. The Atlanteans might or might not get to them, and they needed the help now, not later. Susan Richards was working with Nelson and Murdock to set up a foundation permanently to address such matters.
“Watcha thinking?” Mr. Hill asked, as we made our way toward the Resort’s main ballroom and two auxiliaries, where the glitterati were already converging. Me and my simulacra were going to be dealing at ten different tables simultaneously, all different games. People were looking forward to seeing me and the Magic of the Cards at work.
“There are other sources of volturium outside the States. It will, however, be a bottleneck going forward. We will need a primary supplier who is not Midas, preferably a friend, ally, or associate.”
“You got someone in mind?”
“There’s a Thunder God living in town now.”
“Huh.”
“Also, there’s one working for The Great Bear.”
“Double huh!”
“I imagine if we set up lightning attractors in the local skyscrapers, we could also do excellent business on our own, and the skyscrapers would consider it an additional revenue source.”
“Or in Boston?” he asked thoughtfully.
“Midas tends to concentrate on the smaller office buildings and residentials as more reliable income sources, yes, sir.”
“That means we’ll need to process the copper from those strikes. How much gets Energized when struck?”
“Approximately a maximum of one ton, sir.”
“That’ll go quick. Need a shop to process it into cable, too.”
“Correct, sir.”
We reached the public area where the glitterati were gathering, but avoided the main crush of activity for the working entry to the side. People still noticed Mr. Hill and called out and pointed to him, and there was even some impromptu clapping for him.
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“Feels weird,” he muttered, trying not to smile.
“As you say, sir. You noticed Stark holding court, as well as the Fantastic Four?”
“I did...?”
“Perhaps an opportunity to discuss joint business that would further the technological growth of the United States is in order, sir.”
“Got it.” We came in the side door which smartly dressed casino workers were ducking into and out of, making sure everything was ready. Tables, lines of showy slots, random games of chance, even a few carnival-like games for those interested.
“If it isn’t the man of the hour!” Ligganto drawled as we came in, looking Mr. Hill up and down as if he were a complete stranger. “Dish. How much did you get paid to fight that Attuma guy?”
“One million dollars,” Mr. Hill replied without blinking an eye. “I’da done it for a lot less after they killed my dog.”
“Did they now.” Mr. Hill just nodded curtly. “Well, then, he got what was coming to ‘im.” Ligganto turned around, and started pointing out his security guys, adding in an aside, “I understand our vampire elders meetings are suspended for the foreseeable future...”
“Cleaning crews hated the job anyways,” Mr. Hill grunted.
“They did. Anything you want to add on?”
“Any problem with the kids?” Mr. Hill pointed over near where the chips would be issued to those buying in.
The X-Kids and the SHIELD squad kids, including the white and red-haired brother and sister brought in from the Avengers, were all milling around over there, clearly excited. The theme of the night was masks, so they were all wearing various masks that were not their own, providing additional security while keeping their autonomy. Peter was wearing a Patriot mask, and Jean was in a random Wasp outfit.
“No. They’re just here to meet and greet and stand near the bank, so not much training. All they gotta do is smile. Are they Powered?” Ligganto asked.
“Yes.”
“Always nice to have free Powered security.” He paused as he looked at his watch. “Wait. Are you expecting someone to make a move?” He was shocked as he realized the danger level had just exploded.
“I am, but not here, hence the kids. They can’t gamble or drink, anyways. So, if they wander off getting bored to look around the rest of the place, nobody cares.”
“Huh.” Ligganto patted Hill on the arm. “I think I’m going to go oversee the main floor.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Mr. Hill replied, and watched the head of security stride off quickly, talking into his mic.
“Where’d that come from?” I had to ask, as we walked to our positions.
“The Mick is planning to boost some cars from this place. Think he’d do that if some idiots hadn’t planned something distracting?” he growled quietly.
“Who would be so...” I resisted the urge to slap my forehead.
“So, you might want to tell the kids to go wandering a bit. If they try anything in here...”
------
“Mr. Purple Man, sir?”
“What?” he blurted out, turning around to look at me. “I didn’t give you permission to speak!” he snarled, pointing at my face.
“And why would I need your permission to do that, sir?” I asked him, and suddenly his face got a little pale as the eight of clubs in my hand burned off.
“You-you aren’t affected?” he squeaked, backing away, looking around frantically at everyone else standing around. “Well, what are you all waiting for? Get her!”
Nobody moved, including the FF standing there ready to do whatever he told them, and he bumped into something solid and transparent, which also happened to cut off his voice.
It didn’t get rid of the orders he’d already given, but he couldn’t give any new ones with a combined Sound Bubble/Force Bubble up.
He was a speaker, not a fighter. He got others to fight for him. I flicked up a flickering 7C, and inserted it into his mouth as he tried to press himself back through the force wall in the way.
There was a flash of psi-deadening dispelling magic that lit up every orifice on his head. Everyone in the room twitched, and a bunch of them collapsed even as they clutched at their heads, almost beating the Purple Man to the floor as he dropped quivering from the feedback.
The security guards holding guns to the heads of some very wealthy and important people shook, dropped their guns, and stumbled back. Mr. Hill rose to his full height, adjusted his suit, and came walking toward us as calls and shouts rang out. Stark and the FF shook their heads and grimaced, coming out of the mind control with more experience at the matter.
Mr. Hill loomed over the small man with the rich voice and mind control powers related to his pheromones. He reached down, grabbed Purple’s vest, and lifted him off the ground effortlessly.
“You are so damn lucky there’s a few hundred people here looking at me, or I would kill you right here and now,” he growled to the drooling, unconscious Purple Man. He glared at me standing there quietly. “How’d you resist, girl?” he asked quietly.
“I’m not in the room. I’m actually out in the main casino, which Mysterio has turned into a personal fog and light show,” my stand-in reported quietly. “A hard light Projected Image VII isn’t exactly susceptible to his pheromones,” I informed him softly.
He looked around at my other nine sims, all watching this with identical half-smiles on their face. They weren’t affected either, basically made out of animated ice. “Convenient. Need any help out there?”
“No, the kids have it. Jean’s almost got him centered... there he is. Okay, Wanda’s making his illusions reverse themselves... he’s running... whoops, wrong turn there, right into the webs the girls spun. Spider-man just laid him out... Luke and Danny just took out his crew, and Nova and Jewel turned all the getaway cars outside upside down. Pietro, the Quicksilver kid, has most of the patrons out of the mists now, and is pulling out the projectors.
“Should all be cleaned up in a couple minutes.”
Mr. Hill grunted. “Ligganto says the cops should be here in seconds,” I nodded in reply. “Awright, everyone, today’s unscheduled entertainment has completed his show. If you like, you can head outside and applaud as he and his friends are carted off to the hoosegow!”
There were more than a few cheers and clapping, and some people headed for the doors to do just that.
I paused him before he could head out with his purple prisoner.