“Your sources are your own,” I replied to Matt’s news, truly unconcerned about the issue, which I could tell relieved him somewhat. “I trust that the news did send you on an investigative binge?” I continued with a knowing face.
Matt Murdock’s psionic forte was the senses, both biological and divinatory. The Daredevil of New York didn’t even need to be in the same building as you anymore to listen to your heartbeat, and could watch you from miles away.
He could be the spider at the middle of a web, watching what needed to be seen, and since he was very careful not to do clairvoyant stuff around psis or mages, the mundane folks had no clue he was watching and identifying them, then following up with technological or living observation.
He was probably the best confirmer of street-level crime in the world, making a point of at least once a day trying to follow up on things like suspected murderers, wife-beaters, child-abusers, kidnappers and their victims, and similar things that were generally below what came to me... and which he could refer on to Dealer for extra divinatory support, if needed.
Since the legal forces and media didn’t exactly know how such things were being discovered, there wasn’t anything resembling broad attempts to avoid them, such as, oh, lead-lining boxes for kidnap victims.
It also came in very handy for building cases against corrupt cops, a remarkable number of whom had been cashiered from the force in recent years, and Matt’s work on dead cases left unsolved was slow but steady.
“I can send you the reports, but the preliminary analysis says at least six branches of the Zodiac are involved.”
I steepled my fingers, thinking on that. “Are any of the companies who have been working with the Baxter Foundation less than three years involved?”
He frowned, matching my posture for a moment as he went through his own Visual Files. “No,” he said after a minute or two. “None of the newer companies have been approached or influenced, that I know of.”
“Are all of the companies so influenced ones that were influenced when Alderstein was handling the Foundation’s accounts?”
That took him a much shorter amount of time to confirm. “Yes...” he answered, seeing where this was going.
“Someone sold a list or is currently advising the Zodiac in this endeavor. There’s many ways to approach this, but the easiest is actually transcripts from the trials listing out the fraud, I believe?”
“Getting a full list of the companies involved would have been restricted to a handful of lawyers... or their paralegals,” he noted.
“It sounds like the whereabouts of a few people need to be checked on. Which branches of Zodiac are involved?”
Matt rattled off the six branches, and I filed them away. “I’ll make inquiries of Mr. Hill and the boys. I won’t drag them into this, but I should be able to get some contact numbers, at the least.”
“I’ll get the eyes up and running,” he nodded. “Second order of business: the Jameson matter is ready to be presented.”
“Ohhh, nice. Too bad Peter can’t come along.” He handed a leather case over to me, and I took it calmly. “I’ll take a meeting with him immediately. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”
“I rather doubt it, but it is a long time in coming,” Matt agreed with a sigh. “There are journalists who’ll go to great lengths for a story, but as an editor he should have more restraint. Some of the things he’s done... well, he has a great deal of money. He’s going to need it all if this goes public.”
“We shall see if his devotion to truth extends to himself and his family.” I tilted my head as I considered the case. “He might confess to some of this, but the ramifications of all this are going to involve prison time. The continuing liability for the Scorpion is going to hang over his head for the rest of his life.”
“Criminal charges are nothing small in his world. They will immediately place him in a blackmail situation. He will owe us a favor.”
--------
I knew where to go in the Daily Bugle. Newspapers catch a lot of flak from supervillains and violent criminals in a supersverse, and at this point I’d saved the lives of a couple dozen reporters personally, let alone what Peter had done for them.
It could be said that I was one of the big reasons the Bugle was successful. It was a very photo-heavy paper, but unlike a mainstream Marvel universe, Peter wasn’t there to provide the glorious photos to pick from for JJJ to rave about. Since I’d been the reason that didn’t happen, I had to be the one to make up for it, right?
As a result, I had started and Felicia had taken over using two Simulacra working the photo beat as the twin sisters Lyta and Polly Drew, using magic to cover for the fact they weren’t human and a little bit of sculpting to not look like us. They didn’t have much in the way of social lives, partially because Sims don’t eat and drink if possible (although magic could deal with that, too), and because their personalities were kind of programmed and stiff, even if we could link into them.
Regardless, they were full-time photographers with inside tracks on super-hero stuff, so they got good pictures of great stuff all the time. As a result I knew the Bugle inside and out, and everyone who worked there. How many times had Peter or I had to run over here over the last few years, or intervene with someone pressuring those who worked there?
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Their cover was so good Felicia had replicated it many times over, spending her Sims on photographers and reporters at newspapers and bureaus all over the world, replacing a couple of mine who had been doing that. If it took Polymorph spells to use them in a sexual capacity without giving everything away, well, that’s what it took... and an Ur-Priest Nine still had access to IX’s and could make a Polymorph Self spell last all day, all the time, turning a Construct of blood and ice into a warm and willing human being...
An intelligence organization, indeed. If their personalities were a little cold and icy, well, plenty of men were turned on by that, too.
We could have one Sim per point of Intelligence bonus (unmodified by spell power boosts). That meant 15 and more for each of us, however.
Dealer and Ursula used theirs fairly openly, giving them masks and numbers so that people could tell them apart, and using them to support their organizations. Dealer’s Sims helped with her restaurant on the Colosseum of Champion, supplemented her gambler dealing activities, massively expanded her Energizing of all kinds of materials, and did supplemental spellcasting. They also ran Clean Games at all the Jersey Casinos now, which were all well-attended by high-rollers who liked to know they were participating in fair games.
Dr. Strange had recruited one for housework at the Sanctum, opportunistic chad that he was. Dealer had let it be done more because it freed up Wong to do more exciting things than maintain the place than any other reason, and since he was a Natural Cook, they kibitzed on new menus and food tastings and such, often for a VERY eclectic clientele.
What can I say? Dealer was sweet on the guy, which basically meant I was...
Ursula’s Sims basically ran the Church of the Aesir. The new temples that had been approved so far all had one in residence, giving all of them a very powerful spellcaster to look after the place and help tutor any locals... and deflect any attacks, which they had to deal with rather often from radical Christians. This was especially true after someone in the United Nations started floating the idea of giving the Church of Asgard Permanent Observer status, equal to the Vatican.
Sunny had spread her Sims across Europe, working variously in government or the artistic or fashion community as organizers or instructors, not incidentally giving her instant notification of things happening across the continent.
Kwannon had simply asked Sama where she’d like to see the Sims go. Giving communities sudden access to a very high-Level Caster was a game-changing shift in things, and so Kwannon’s Sims were scattered across Tribal countries throughout Asia. Even a couple of the Tribes in the Nations were very happy to get a truly powerful Caster in residence for emergencies, and a strong instructor and example for their children.
My Sims were working for me as we expanded business operations, with a couple in academia serving as Modern Alchemy instructors, researchers, or lab aides. While fully able to pursue the scientific method, Sims were totally incapable of original thought, despite being able to be quite knowledgeable and intelligent. They could not, after all, gain new Ranks of Skills or Masteries, only refine what they already knew and add to it with experience, not actual growth. I mainly used them to have eyes on the major universities at all times, and in the research divisions of several companies with very questionable ethics, like Oscorp and Roxxon.
---
Nobody stopped me as I walked through the newsroom to the editor-in-chief’s office. I was in civvies, a powersuit at least ten years ahead of what was stylish around here, but nobody was going to mistake me for a normal person with the occasional sparks jumping between my eyes. Those who might have thought to ask if I needed help decided to sit back down, although Betty Brant did get to her feet as I walked up.
“Good day, Miss Brant. I’m going to see Jonah now. You might want to hold his calls.”
I had a reverb to my voice, my eyes were not friendly, and she sat back down without saying a word.
I opened the door, to the surprise of the man inside, stepped inside, and closed it firmly.
“What? Who are... you. Um. Dynamo?!” he blurted out upon seeing me.
He was a middle-aged man, with a short beard and trimmed mustache, going salt-and-pepper, keeping himself in mild boxing shape. His desk was covered with bric-a-brac and awards from several places, especially several civil rights organizations, more paperwork, and similar things.
I looked to have caught him in the reviewing of several stories.
“That is Dr. Ouilette to you, Mr. Jameson,” I replied politely. “I am in civvies, after all.” My eyes snapped as he rose to his feet, guarded at my intrusion, his eyes flicking to the closed door.
“If this is some kind of coercion...” he began defiantly.
“It is. The very best kind. The one that you will be thanking me for, and owe me a great favor for.”
His mouth opened and closed, staring at me, wondering what that meant, getting very uneasy as I set the satchel down on his desk and tilted it down to lay towards him. “I understand you were an investigative reporter before you bought the Bugle. This should be enlightening.” There was a ruffle of paperwork and shifting of objects, clearing off space on his desk as all of his inbox came into my hands. “I read your paper, and I’m quite familiar with its voice. I’ll complete your paperwork here while you read.”
His mouth opened, closed, and he stared at the inches of papers in my hands as I sat down, a red pen flicked out of nowhere into my grasp, and I started going through his notes and papers as if I belonged there.
Slowly he sat back down. He reached out, dragged the satchel closer, opened it, and lifted out the files within.
I made no sound of acknowledgement as the first gasp escaped him. I was flipping rapidly through the articles, crossing out and correcting the language, and even imitating his style of edits as I did, because I could. Only the executive decision stuff for money I didn’t do anything about.
He was looking at evidence. Copies of money statements, transfers, dates, to whom, and why. Alustair Smythe’s name was damning.
So was MacDonald Gargan’s.
Bills. Records of deaths. Records of medical care. Records of property destruction. Records of liability. Many, many records of libel, slander, and false accusations.
He broke before he got halfway through it all. “This... where did you get all this?” he growled, but it lacked heart.
“We’ve been building a case against you for years, Mr. Jameson,” I responded coolly, going through an exposé on construction fraud awarded by the city, a subject I was quite familiar with. “As you can tell by the times and dates of the libel you’ve been heaping upon Spider-man. That case is rock-solid, by the way. If your attorney tells you that you can fight it and win, fire him. The negative press and pressure will make sure that any delaying tactics won’t work, it’s going right to the top of the roster, just based on how quickly it will resolve.”