1.13: Looking for Answers
notthepenguins
Neither Spherical Nor Frictionless
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
The cafe was quiet, just after the lunch rush ended. Empty, save for the barista and a man perched in the corner going to town on a sandwich. And, of course, herself, set up in a booth with a clear view through the window.
A pair of men left a restaurant across the street, walking down the red-brick stairs.
Speed of exit high, not fearful. Recently had negative social encounter.
Gait and posture withdrawn, offended. Scolded by respected figure(s). Chastised by superiors?
Muscular build, light scarring, visible tattoos beneath clothing include neo-Nazi iconography. Structure known Empire 88 front. Empire 88 enforcers.
Pattern of mud on shoes. Both men involved in athletic movement on muddy ground within the last day. Color of mud inconsistent with local parks or yards.
Mud matches trainyards. Reports of gunfire at trainyards last night. Gang conflict at trainyards?
Both men involved in conflict at the trainyards, scolded by superior for poor conduct or failure. Conflict was undesired by Empire 88. Conflict ended poorly for Empire 88.
Lisa Wilbourn sipped at her absurdly expensive latte, and typed out a few notes on her laptop. There really was something strange about this gang war, then. To the best of her knowledge, the ABB had no assets within the trainyards, making a conflict there largely nonsensical. A new cape? An internal conflict?
She made another note.
But what could be causing it? Someone else left the restaurant.
Posture, expression. Just had a good meal. Body language, clothing. Going back to the office.
It was an interesting mystery, really. A new player? An old one? Someone like Iron Rain or the old guard back in town? Was it all linked to the bizarre threat against Arcadia this morning? That carefully-crafted statement which could as easily be from either faction?
Lisa liked mysteries. Or rather, she liked the satisfaction of solving them. The process of eliminating possibilities, of stepping ever-closer to the truth.
Her phone buzzed. Not her personal, but her burner. Only a few people had this number. She glanced at it.
She rolled her eyes. She might be a miracle worker, but even she wasn't that fast.
What she didn't like was the way her boss was riding her ass on this one. Gang wars were a dime a dozen in Brockton Bay, and they were still on top of the intel game. And yet.
Uncharacteristic urgency. External factors. External sponsors and/or recent visitors. Most likely candidate unknown Stranger.
She shivered. She had not cared for that visitor. The ghost of a headache stabbed at her, and she clamped down on her power as much as she could as she thought back over the memory.
Lisa was still drinking her coffee when she came into the office, at a bright and early nine o'clock. No one was in the waiting room, but the boss' door was closed. She shrugged and walked over to the door, raising a hand to knock.
The door opened. She blinked, stepped back out of the way as she saw the visitor leaving. Glanced at them curiously. They nodded to her and left.
It wasn't until the exit door closed behind them that she realized she couldn't remember their gender, age, race, height… anything.
Stranger, her instincts hissed.
Her eyes narrowed, coaxing her power all the way to life, waiting for a response, and…
Nothing. Not junk data, not confusion, no output at all.
"Come in, Tats," her boss said from inside, seated at their desk as usual. Today they took the form of a military-uniformed Asian woman with long dark gray hair tied in a ponytail, with two crescent-shaped hair decorations.
Voice calm on normal registers, slightly quavering subvocally. Masque hiding stress, anxiety.
Posture turned inward, not outward. No physical threat. Threat external. Threat only partly known. Threat a lack of information in itself?
Pre-2001 Schicksal Valkyrie dress uniform. Singular medal, Schicksal Ray of Glory. Medal only awarded posthumously. Medal not accompanied by others. Medal selected to make a point. Mimicking a specific individual known to Stranger who exited. Intended to emotionally disrupt Stranger. Targeted individual indicates Stranger known to Masque.
Lisa stepped inside, closed the door behind her. "Hey boss, what the fuck kind of Stranger was that?"
Blink, posture changes. Did not classify individual as Stranger. Surprised by classification, not by ability itself. Stranger-type ability known, but not permanent/all-encompassing. Creative use of alternate ability?
Masque just shook her head. "Apparently, nothing to concern ourselves with."
Stranger highly concerning to Masque. Stranger neither sponsor nor employee of Masque. Agent of sponsor?
Agent or mimicked individual well-known. Mimicked individual received Schicksal Ray of Glory, or did not but should have. Schicksal Ray of Glory known to Stranger; Stranger knew ranking Schicksal members minimum 13 years ago.
Masque's sponsor Schicksal or Schicksal breakways?
Masque unaware of reason for Stranger's presence. Believes they should be aware. Disorganized hierarchy or blurring lines of authority.
Stranger identity-
Nothing.
She let her power chew on it.
The beginnings of a migraine boiled up in her, and still her power was silent. She sighed and leashed it.
"So?" she asked, sitting down on the arm of the chair, reaching into her purse to grab several aspirin and wash them down with her coffee.
"So it's absolutely something to concern ourselves with."
Lisa grimaced again, reining her power in. Every time she tried to think about the Stranger directly, her power fizzled. No, not fizzled, worse – it kept working, it just didn't give her anything. Anything but a migraine, that is.
Unknown parahuman(s) active within city. Incidents in Winslow, Arcadia apparent. PRT also in the dark. Empire 88 at large unaware. ABB at large unaware. Smaller gangs reacting to impending conflict, not to known or known-unknown parahumans. Incident regarding Glory Girl on Monday indicating unknown parahuman; no apparent candidates within geographic region with unknown location.
Multiple parahumans. Single parahuman, grab-bag with ability to subdivide. Power-changing Trump. Unrelated incidents. Related incidents with single root cause. Group of parahumans capable of merging into a single parahuman. Infiltrator-type Honkai Beast. Alternate-Earth leak. Master-type effect causing 'stand-alone complex.' Acausal incident forming closed time loop. Ghosts???
Tattletale cut her power off with a sigh. It always got like this when she didn't have enough data, taking wild leaps of logic into multiple mutually exclusive, frequently absurd, conclusions.
Three men exited the restaurant, all three in suits. One a large, bulky man, his long blonde hair tied into a ponytail, one a lanky, brown-haired man with a briefcase, and one a short, pudgy bald man with a briefcase.
Other individuals uneasy, but following lead. Perceive him as a physical and social threat, but a familiar one. Individuals have previously observed lead engaged in violence, intimidated by display.
Larger individual body language, posture confident, unafraid. Used to authority, power. Slightly uncomfortable in suit, suit rarely worn. Parahuman. Exiting Empire front unmolested. Hookwolf?
Hookwolf Empire 88 leadership. Other individuals dressed more comfortably in suits, suits more worn. White-collar workers. Accountants or lawyers. Aware of Hookwolf's identity. Deeply informed about Empire 88.
She jotted down further notes. This was the first time she'd actually seen Hookwolf out of costume – assuming it was him, but the odds of it being anyone but him or an unknown were very low – and both he and the others would be very useful avenues for further investigation if it came to that.
A very risky one, though.
She had some other ideas to go through before she was desperate enough to try that one – herself, at least.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Suzy resisted the urge to shake her head and smile as, upon her return to the table, she found Kiana making her best effort to divest her of all snacks, chewing through a whole bag of chips like it was nothing. She was going to have to stock up if this was what the girl was like all the time.
And hide the good cheese.
"So," she said, handing over a business card with a pair of numbers scribbled on the back. "My card, and my personal phones. I'd recommend picking up a burner phone, prepaid, so it doesn't track back to you easily. Once you do, drop me a text and I'll add you."
"Oh, s'fine," Kiana mumbled, mouth full of chips. She dug into a pocket, pulling out a smartphone of some make she didn't recognize, the front all screen, the back some sort of matte, subtly textured red-and-black material. She frowned at it for a second when it didn't come on, then held down the power button. Some sort of icon she couldn't pin down, a stylized infinity symbol maybe, flickered onto the screen for a bare moment before it finished booting. "Dumb auto-updates. Anyway, not trackable."
Huh. Where had she gotten something like that? It looked a bit old, a few visible scratches, but nothing too bad. Maybe that Tinker she mentioned knowing? That speculation was thrown aside entirely, however, when Kiana unlocked it, giving Suzy a brief glimpse of the background photo before she went to add the contacts.
A photo that Suzy had seen before.
A grinning man with short white hair – Siegfried – hugging a smiling woman with long white hair, and a child, perhaps three or four, with short white pigtails, jumping up into the air in front of them.
She knew that photograph. In his brooding phases, Siegfried would stare at it all night. He'd never given her their names, but the conclusions had been obvious: his wife and child, both dead.
So why did Kiana have that photo? She'd have to be… Suzy did the math. If that photo had been taken right before she met him, then the girl in the photo would have to be at least eighteen, nineteen by now. She'd always gotten the impression that he'd been mourning for a while even before he met her, though, so add on a few years, and there was simply no way that could be the girl who sat across from her. Maybe if… wait, no, he'd said something about that being the most recent photo he had, so there was no way she'd been born between then and his wife's death. So how…?
"...Suzy?"
She shook her head to clear it. Something to figure out later, when she knew the girl a bit better. Those weren't topics she could prod lightly. "Just getting started on brainstorming a bit early," she lied. "But that can wait. For now, can you promise not to do anything reckless before we meet up again? I don't want you to go all 'I'm a hero now!' and do something stupid before we have an actual costume and identity for you."
Kiana hesitated, and Suzy sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought. In that case, here." She slid a half-dozen simple domino masks across the table. "These are the same kind the PRT use when they need to have a quick mask but don't have time for a costume. Elastic, clingy enough not to fall off if you need to actually fight, but they aren't all that durable and aren't meant for reuse."
"Oh, cool!" Kiana grinned, snatching them up and stuffing them in her bag. "That'll make things way easier!"
"And…" Suzy sighed. This one was actually a bit of a sacrifice, but it was for the best. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a thin black choker, sliding it across the table as well. "Since I know 'put on this mask' is easier said than done… this is a bit of Tinkertech I got gifted a few years back. The clasp on the back has a concealed switch. If you're wearing it, and the thing is toggled on, it'll put out little bits of visual interference and hologram around your face that will scramble facial recognition software."
"Ooh!" Kiana reached for it, and Suzy reached down, grabbing her wrist before she could take it. Kiana pouted.
"First. It is Tinkertech. While it is in use, it will run down, and you won't be able to fix it on your own." Kiana rolled her eyes. Suzy was impressed, honestly, at how well she had the teenager roll-eyes-at-parents down. Maybe it was inherent, rather than learned…
"Second. It will be obvious to anyone looking at you. Blurry spots, visual distortions, you get the idea." Kiana frowned and nodded. Good, that meant she was thinking.
"Third. It only works on software. People will still recognize you just fine. I don't want to find out that you've been using this irresponsibly, alright?"
Kiana pouted exaggeratedly. "Fiiine, I promise. No using it to go fight crime before I have a costume. Or cops."
Suzy released her head with a sigh. "Kiana, please don't pick fights with cops."
Kiana shrugged easily, but Suzy didn't miss the steel in her eyes. "As long as they don't pick fights with me, sure."
That was… probably the best she was going to get, for now. She shook her head as a thought occurred to her. "Right. Speaking of fights, how do you fight? You've clearly got hand-to-hand training, anything else I should know about?"
"Oh, you know, Kaslana Style martial arts. Or my trusty Excalibat!"
Suzy blinked once, twice, a horrible suspicion dawning on her. "Wait. When you say Kaslana Style martial arts…"
"Yep! Dad taught me the forty-eight forms of House Kaslana gun kata!"
"...ah." She resisted the urge to swear. Barely.
How the hell was she going to rebrand that?
Bronya nodded with satisfaction as the diagnostics came back green. Excellent.
She quickly noted down the default password she'd given the system on the manual, unplugged her diagnostic machine, then started screwing the access panel back on.
"Huh. You done already?"
Bronya didn't look at the voice behind her – she was already hooked into the cameras, after all, and had seen him enter some time ago. A short, slender man, with short white hair. Given that her communications with Sol had been for contract for the duo, that would make this Luna. The other half of the thief duo, he had the ability to bend light… or at least, something described to laypeople as such. 'Bending light' on its own would not explain his demonstrated capabilities adequately within the bounds of physics… but then, the specifics of his power were not of particular relevance to her.
"Nearly. Luna, correct?"
"I'd say good guess, but well…" he shrugged.
She finished screwing the panel on and hopped off of the ladder, landing on her feet. Luna seemed mildly surprised.
"Indeed," she nodded. "It was a rather simple deduction."
"Right. So, what have we got?"
Bronya gestured to the manual. "The specifics are detailed in here, as well as the routine maintenance that will need to be performed. Provided no unexpected damage occurs, maintenance by a Tinker should not be required for three to five years. A fault in the shutter's deployment system is the most likely cause of such failure."
He blinked. "Sure, sure. But like, what does it… do?"
She tilted her head. Considered, for a moment, simply referring him to the manual again, as had been her clear intent. But he was a client, and it was not a large inconvenience.
"Hidden cameras watch both interior and exterior, multiple additional wavelengths beyond visible included. Footage is stored in the integrated hard drive. The shutters," she gestured at the shutter housing, neatly concealed between the curtain rods and the walls, "are a composite that will deflect small- to medium- arms, and will cover the windows within 0.3 seconds of activation. The electrical system is equivalent to electric fencing, and has several activation settings that can be chosen. I have also provided replacement doors, locks, and keys, at a much higher security rating than your previous. The manual dictates how they must be installed if you wish for them to integrate with the security system, but they will function stand-alone. I have not installed them myself, as that would be visible from the exterior of the home and raise questions from your neighbors."
He stared. "Uh. Right. That sounds neat though! How do we plug into it?"
Bronya pointed. "There is a connection plate there that will accept most modern data transfer mechanisms. Additionally, you can choose to have it function via local wireless network, though that feature is turned off by default for security reasons."
"Neat! Okay, and how do we pay you?"
Bronya tilted her head again. That had been clearly spelled out in the initial contract. "There is a bookmark in the manual with my account information on it. It is a standard secure account. I accept payment in American dollars or Euros only, at the current Number-Man-defined exchange rate on the day of transaction. As per the contract, payment is due within fifteen business days from receipt of service."
She paused.
"However. I have a personal interest in any functional Tinkertech that manipulates or breaches dimensional boundaries, even should its function not seem useful. Should you come across any, I will pay ten percent above market value for it, twenty percent if instead used as credit towards my services."
"I…" Luna opened his mouth to speak, then paused abruptly. "You know, I think we might actually have something. Let me check, if you don't mind waiting a bit?"
Bronya nodded. "That is acceptable." She restrained the seed of excitement that welled up in her. Even if they had something, it was unlikely to be relevant or useful to her.
But the chance was enough.
She would wait far longer than 'a bit' for a chance at seeing Seele again.
Clack. Clack-clack. Clack. Thud.
Vista scowled up from the ground at the staff hovering above her neck. "Yeah, yeah, I yield."
Dennis pulled his staff away, looking a bit sheepish, and extended a hand. "Sorry if I hit you a bit hard there, I…"
Vista rolled her eyes. "It's sparring, Clock, that's gonna happen." She took his hand, pulling herself up. She winced. Yeah, that was gonna bruise. Least it was high enough on her side that covering it up would be easy.
She looked him over, sighed. He was pretty flushed from the exertion. "You're looking a bit wiped, and I need some water. Take ten?"
He didn't respond.
"Clock?"
He jumped. "Oh, sure! I uh, could use some water too, actually."
She shrugged and made her way over to the water bottles, glancing over to the others as the background sound of their own staves hitting each other ended abruptly.
"...I yield," Chris grunted from his position on the ground, Dean's staff hovering above his neck. Dean nodded, offering him a hand and pulling the younger boy up.
"Good one," Chris said, after a moment catching his breath. "Totally got me with that feint."
"Yeah," Dean admitted, "but I do cheat there. Easy to tell when someone buys it or not, you know?" He tapped his temple.
"Eh, you can't turn it off, not like you're cheating on purpose."
Dean shrugged and stretched. Vista took a long swig from her water bottle. Did Dean know how much that shirt clung to him when he got sweaty? He had to know, right?
She yelped and jumped as something cold pressed against the back of her neck, water splashing from the bottle onto her face.
She spun around, only to find Dennis holding a water bottle thick with condensation. "Clock, you dick!"
Dennis just grinned. "Made you jump!"
She glared.
He hesitated. "...I'll buy you ice cream after practice?" he offered.
"...forgiven. But give me some of the cold stuff." She pointed at the offending bottle imperiously.
He seemed confused for a second, then shook his head, holding out the water bottle. "Uh, sure?"
She took a swig. Cold and refreshing. He'd been smart, refrigerating his water ahead of time. "Thanks," she said, handing it back. He took it, still seeming a bit confused. She rolled her eyes as she turned away. Boys. Cool one day, total dorks the next.
Vista had just looked back to the two boys – taking their starting positions again, looks like they'd decided to go for another before they took a break – when the door near her and Dennis hissed open.
Armsmaster stepped into the room, watching the two heroes spar for several seconds before turning to Vista.
"Vista," he said. "The permission forms are filed from both of your parents."
Vista grinned. "Awesome!" It wasn't a surprise that it had happened – the one upside of her parents was how easy it was to play them off of each other when she wanted something.
Well. Most things.
"We can have things in place for you to start tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"
Vista blinked. "Uh, yeah. Tomorrow's fine!" She resisted the urge to bounce on her feet. Finally! A real mission! None of this kiddy shit. Hell, even the older Wards didn't get to do anything like this.
Armsmaster regarded her for a moment. "This is not intended to be a high-risk mission. If the situation spins out of control, your first goal is to extricate yourself safely. Do you understand?"
She nodded. "I understand. I won't let you down."
He looked at her for a moment longer, then nodded. "Six-thirty tomorrow morning, then."
Vista almost groaned at the thought of such an early morning, but before she could her determination stomped that urge into the dirt.
She was going to do this right.
The door hissed shut behind Armsmaster, the man having left as curtly as he entered.
"Mission, huh?" Dennis asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "What's this about, Vista?"
Vista grinned. "It's a secret."
He kept looking at her, clearly not appeased.
"Okay, fine. I can tell you one thing."
"And that is?" He asked, finally realizing she was waiting for him to respond.
She grinned. "It's a sneaking mission."
Mouse Protector hummed her own theme song – the one from the original cartoon, thank you very much – as she teleported into the room set aside in PRT HQ for entering teleporters. She waved at and bowed to the camera, then adjusted her teleport marker (one of her plushies) to a slightly more prominent position on the shelf while she waited.
A few moments later, the door buzzed, red light replaced with green, and unlocked with an audible 'click.' She grinned, saluted the camera, and headed out.
She flagged down a PRT agent who didn't look too busy.
"Uh… hi?" he asked, a bit uncertainly. She vaguely recognized his face, he wasn't brand new, but they'd never spoken before.
"Hi!" She beamed. "Any chance Miss Militia's in the building? I'd love to have a chat with her, figured I'd see if I could while I dropped by."
"Oh. I think she's in the gym?"
"Thanks!"
"Wait, before you go…"
"What can I do for you?" She smiled. It was going to be an autograph, probably.
"My daughter's Caroline's a big fan, could you possibly… I don't have anything to sign, but…"
"Have no fear!" She pulled a business card out of a pocket, then a pen from her belt pouch. It was no simple pen, however - the Mouse-Pen had a multitude of utility functions, from writing to cat distraction to hijacking boring presentations.
She depressed a button and rotated the butt of the pen – a mouse head, of course – until it clicked, then signed it with a flourish, penmanship elaborate but clear. And with how long it had taken her to practice it, it had better be.
Hi Caroline,
How would you like to be an honorary mouse?
Mouse Protector
"Here you go!" The writing caught the light like metal, but would look like it was a different color in all lighting environments, ensuring maximum readability.
He accepted the card with her thanks, and she marched off to the elevators.
The question was, which of the building's four gyms would Miss M be at…
"Hey there, Miss M!" she said brightly as the other woman set her weights down.
To her great satisfaction, Hana whirled, the ever-present weapon on her hip shifting to… huh, she actually didn't recognize that model of pistol. Someone was making new toys.
She let out a sigh. "Mouse Protector. Did you have to sneak up on me?"
"Wellll… probably not!" She grinned. "But it was a way to take some of the weight out of the wait, you know?"
"That was terrible."
"You wound me, Miss M! I'd better tear up that joke, never to be seen again."
She crossed her arms and sighed again. "What do you want?"
"Can't I just spend time with my old friend?"
"Friend is a bold word, you know."
"Aw, you know you love me!" Mouse Protector stepped in and hugged Hana. After a moment, Hana sighed and returned it.
"Some days you make it very difficult, you know," she said finally, after releasing her.
"Tragically, like the sun, I must not stay too close, lest my rays burn the earth." She grinned despite herself. Hana was so fun to bounce off of!
She blinked. Frowned. "Actually, what do you want? The city's too much of a mess for you to just be bored."
"Tragically, you're right. I actually wanted to pick your brain." Mouse Protector couldn't remember… but Hana never forgot a thing. The blessing and curse of a noctis cape, really.
Hana glanced at the clock on the wall. "I have a few minutes."
"You remember that cape I worked with for a few years, Ronin?"
She nodded. "Right after you left the Protectorate proper?"
"Right! Have you heard anything about him since I went solo a few years later? I was thinking back on those days earlier, and wondering what happened to him." Bit of a half-truth, but… this wasn't the time or place to explain further, either.
"Hm, nothing obvious. I've definitely heard of capes going by Ronin, but nothing I could reliably say was him. Is it important? I could go digging."
"Nah, nah, I'll dig on my own." Mouse Protector shook her head. "Just wanted to see if you'd caught some information in that steel trap of yours." She rapped her helmet.
"Alright, then." Miss Militia turned around again. Mouse Protector found her eyes lingering on the strange gun her power had turned into. Strange… her eyes widened. Aha!
She pulled out her phone, firing off a quick text.
"Oh," Mouse Protector added, as Miss Militia was squatting down to adjust the weight on a barbell. "By the way, I've got an apprentice now!"
The last thing she heard before she teleported away was the sound of her dropping the plate she had just removed.
A pair of men left a restaurant across the street, walking down the red-brick stairs.
Speed of exit high, not fearful. Recently had negative social encounter.
Gait and posture withdrawn, offended. Scolded by respected figure(s). Chastised by superiors?
Muscular build, light scarring, visible tattoos beneath clothing include neo-Nazi iconography. Structure known Empire 88 front. Empire 88 enforcers.
Pattern of mud on shoes. Both men involved in athletic movement on muddy ground within the last day. Color of mud inconsistent with local parks or yards.
Mud matches trainyards. Reports of gunfire at trainyards last night. Gang conflict at trainyards?
Both men involved in conflict at the trainyards, scolded by superior for poor conduct or failure. Conflict was undesired by Empire 88. Conflict ended poorly for Empire 88.
Lisa Wilbourn sipped at her absurdly expensive latte, and typed out a few notes on her laptop. There really was something strange about this gang war, then. To the best of her knowledge, the ABB had no assets within the trainyards, making a conflict there largely nonsensical. A new cape? An internal conflict?
She made another note.
But what could be causing it? Someone else left the restaurant.
Posture, expression. Just had a good meal. Body language, clothing. Going back to the office.
It was an interesting mystery, really. A new player? An old one? Someone like Iron Rain or the old guard back in town? Was it all linked to the bizarre threat against Arcadia this morning? That carefully-crafted statement which could as easily be from either faction?
Lisa liked mysteries. Or rather, she liked the satisfaction of solving them. The process of eliminating possibilities, of stepping ever-closer to the truth.
Her phone buzzed. Not her personal, but her burner. Only a few people had this number. She glanced at it.
She rolled her eyes. She might be a miracle worker, but even she wasn't that fast.
What she didn't like was the way her boss was riding her ass on this one. Gang wars were a dime a dozen in Brockton Bay, and they were still on top of the intel game. And yet.
Uncharacteristic urgency. External factors. External sponsors and/or recent visitors. Most likely candidate unknown Stranger.
She shivered. She had not cared for that visitor. The ghost of a headache stabbed at her, and she clamped down on her power as much as she could as she thought back over the memory.
Lisa was still drinking her coffee when she came into the office, at a bright and early nine o'clock. No one was in the waiting room, but the boss' door was closed. She shrugged and walked over to the door, raising a hand to knock.
The door opened. She blinked, stepped back out of the way as she saw the visitor leaving. Glanced at them curiously. They nodded to her and left.
It wasn't until the exit door closed behind them that she realized she couldn't remember their gender, age, race, height… anything.
Stranger, her instincts hissed.
Her eyes narrowed, coaxing her power all the way to life, waiting for a response, and…
Nothing. Not junk data, not confusion, no output at all.
"Come in, Tats," her boss said from inside, seated at their desk as usual. Today they took the form of a military-uniformed Asian woman with long dark gray hair tied in a ponytail, with two crescent-shaped hair decorations.
Voice calm on normal registers, slightly quavering subvocally. Masque hiding stress, anxiety.
Posture turned inward, not outward. No physical threat. Threat external. Threat only partly known. Threat a lack of information in itself?
Pre-2001 Schicksal Valkyrie dress uniform. Singular medal, Schicksal Ray of Glory. Medal only awarded posthumously. Medal not accompanied by others. Medal selected to make a point. Mimicking a specific individual known to Stranger who exited. Intended to emotionally disrupt Stranger. Targeted individual indicates Stranger known to Masque.
Lisa stepped inside, closed the door behind her. "Hey boss, what the fuck kind of Stranger was that?"
Blink, posture changes. Did not classify individual as Stranger. Surprised by classification, not by ability itself. Stranger-type ability known, but not permanent/all-encompassing. Creative use of alternate ability?
Masque just shook her head. "Apparently, nothing to concern ourselves with."
Stranger highly concerning to Masque. Stranger neither sponsor nor employee of Masque. Agent of sponsor?
Agent or mimicked individual well-known. Mimicked individual received Schicksal Ray of Glory, or did not but should have. Schicksal Ray of Glory known to Stranger; Stranger knew ranking Schicksal members minimum 13 years ago.
Masque's sponsor Schicksal or Schicksal breakways?
Masque unaware of reason for Stranger's presence. Believes they should be aware. Disorganized hierarchy or blurring lines of authority.
Stranger identity-
Nothing.
She let her power chew on it.
The beginnings of a migraine boiled up in her, and still her power was silent. She sighed and leashed it.
"So?" she asked, sitting down on the arm of the chair, reaching into her purse to grab several aspirin and wash them down with her coffee.
"So it's absolutely something to concern ourselves with."
Lisa grimaced again, reining her power in. Every time she tried to think about the Stranger directly, her power fizzled. No, not fizzled, worse – it kept working, it just didn't give her anything. Anything but a migraine, that is.
Unknown parahuman(s) active within city. Incidents in Winslow, Arcadia apparent. PRT also in the dark. Empire 88 at large unaware. ABB at large unaware. Smaller gangs reacting to impending conflict, not to known or known-unknown parahumans. Incident regarding Glory Girl on Monday indicating unknown parahuman; no apparent candidates within geographic region with unknown location.
Multiple parahumans. Single parahuman, grab-bag with ability to subdivide. Power-changing Trump. Unrelated incidents. Related incidents with single root cause. Group of parahumans capable of merging into a single parahuman. Infiltrator-type Honkai Beast. Alternate-Earth leak. Master-type effect causing 'stand-alone complex.' Acausal incident forming closed time loop. Ghosts???
Tattletale cut her power off with a sigh. It always got like this when she didn't have enough data, taking wild leaps of logic into multiple mutually exclusive, frequently absurd, conclusions.
Three men exited the restaurant, all three in suits. One a large, bulky man, his long blonde hair tied into a ponytail, one a lanky, brown-haired man with a briefcase, and one a short, pudgy bald man with a briefcase.
Other individuals uneasy, but following lead. Perceive him as a physical and social threat, but a familiar one. Individuals have previously observed lead engaged in violence, intimidated by display.
Larger individual body language, posture confident, unafraid. Used to authority, power. Slightly uncomfortable in suit, suit rarely worn. Parahuman. Exiting Empire front unmolested. Hookwolf?
Hookwolf Empire 88 leadership. Other individuals dressed more comfortably in suits, suits more worn. White-collar workers. Accountants or lawyers. Aware of Hookwolf's identity. Deeply informed about Empire 88.
She jotted down further notes. This was the first time she'd actually seen Hookwolf out of costume – assuming it was him, but the odds of it being anyone but him or an unknown were very low – and both he and the others would be very useful avenues for further investigation if it came to that.
A very risky one, though.
She had some other ideas to go through before she was desperate enough to try that one – herself, at least.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Suzy resisted the urge to shake her head and smile as, upon her return to the table, she found Kiana making her best effort to divest her of all snacks, chewing through a whole bag of chips like it was nothing. She was going to have to stock up if this was what the girl was like all the time.
And hide the good cheese.
"So," she said, handing over a business card with a pair of numbers scribbled on the back. "My card, and my personal phones. I'd recommend picking up a burner phone, prepaid, so it doesn't track back to you easily. Once you do, drop me a text and I'll add you."
"Oh, s'fine," Kiana mumbled, mouth full of chips. She dug into a pocket, pulling out a smartphone of some make she didn't recognize, the front all screen, the back some sort of matte, subtly textured red-and-black material. She frowned at it for a second when it didn't come on, then held down the power button. Some sort of icon she couldn't pin down, a stylized infinity symbol maybe, flickered onto the screen for a bare moment before it finished booting. "Dumb auto-updates. Anyway, not trackable."
Huh. Where had she gotten something like that? It looked a bit old, a few visible scratches, but nothing too bad. Maybe that Tinker she mentioned knowing? That speculation was thrown aside entirely, however, when Kiana unlocked it, giving Suzy a brief glimpse of the background photo before she went to add the contacts.
A photo that Suzy had seen before.
A grinning man with short white hair – Siegfried – hugging a smiling woman with long white hair, and a child, perhaps three or four, with short white pigtails, jumping up into the air in front of them.
She knew that photograph. In his brooding phases, Siegfried would stare at it all night. He'd never given her their names, but the conclusions had been obvious: his wife and child, both dead.
So why did Kiana have that photo? She'd have to be… Suzy did the math. If that photo had been taken right before she met him, then the girl in the photo would have to be at least eighteen, nineteen by now. She'd always gotten the impression that he'd been mourning for a while even before he met her, though, so add on a few years, and there was simply no way that could be the girl who sat across from her. Maybe if… wait, no, he'd said something about that being the most recent photo he had, so there was no way she'd been born between then and his wife's death. So how…?
"...Suzy?"
She shook her head to clear it. Something to figure out later, when she knew the girl a bit better. Those weren't topics she could prod lightly. "Just getting started on brainstorming a bit early," she lied. "But that can wait. For now, can you promise not to do anything reckless before we meet up again? I don't want you to go all 'I'm a hero now!' and do something stupid before we have an actual costume and identity for you."
Kiana hesitated, and Suzy sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought. In that case, here." She slid a half-dozen simple domino masks across the table. "These are the same kind the PRT use when they need to have a quick mask but don't have time for a costume. Elastic, clingy enough not to fall off if you need to actually fight, but they aren't all that durable and aren't meant for reuse."
"Oh, cool!" Kiana grinned, snatching them up and stuffing them in her bag. "That'll make things way easier!"
"And…" Suzy sighed. This one was actually a bit of a sacrifice, but it was for the best. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a thin black choker, sliding it across the table as well. "Since I know 'put on this mask' is easier said than done… this is a bit of Tinkertech I got gifted a few years back. The clasp on the back has a concealed switch. If you're wearing it, and the thing is toggled on, it'll put out little bits of visual interference and hologram around your face that will scramble facial recognition software."
"Ooh!" Kiana reached for it, and Suzy reached down, grabbing her wrist before she could take it. Kiana pouted.
"First. It is Tinkertech. While it is in use, it will run down, and you won't be able to fix it on your own." Kiana rolled her eyes. Suzy was impressed, honestly, at how well she had the teenager roll-eyes-at-parents down. Maybe it was inherent, rather than learned…
"Second. It will be obvious to anyone looking at you. Blurry spots, visual distortions, you get the idea." Kiana frowned and nodded. Good, that meant she was thinking.
"Third. It only works on software. People will still recognize you just fine. I don't want to find out that you've been using this irresponsibly, alright?"
Kiana pouted exaggeratedly. "Fiiine, I promise. No using it to go fight crime before I have a costume. Or cops."
Suzy released her head with a sigh. "Kiana, please don't pick fights with cops."
Kiana shrugged easily, but Suzy didn't miss the steel in her eyes. "As long as they don't pick fights with me, sure."
That was… probably the best she was going to get, for now. She shook her head as a thought occurred to her. "Right. Speaking of fights, how do you fight? You've clearly got hand-to-hand training, anything else I should know about?"
"Oh, you know, Kaslana Style martial arts. Or my trusty Excalibat!"
Suzy blinked once, twice, a horrible suspicion dawning on her. "Wait. When you say Kaslana Style martial arts…"
"Yep! Dad taught me the forty-eight forms of House Kaslana gun kata!"
"...ah." She resisted the urge to swear. Barely.
How the hell was she going to rebrand that?
Bronya nodded with satisfaction as the diagnostics came back green. Excellent.
She quickly noted down the default password she'd given the system on the manual, unplugged her diagnostic machine, then started screwing the access panel back on.
"Huh. You done already?"
Bronya didn't look at the voice behind her – she was already hooked into the cameras, after all, and had seen him enter some time ago. A short, slender man, with short white hair. Given that her communications with Sol had been for contract for the duo, that would make this Luna. The other half of the thief duo, he had the ability to bend light… or at least, something described to laypeople as such. 'Bending light' on its own would not explain his demonstrated capabilities adequately within the bounds of physics… but then, the specifics of his power were not of particular relevance to her.
"Nearly. Luna, correct?"
"I'd say good guess, but well…" he shrugged.
She finished screwing the panel on and hopped off of the ladder, landing on her feet. Luna seemed mildly surprised.
"Indeed," she nodded. "It was a rather simple deduction."
"Right. So, what have we got?"
Bronya gestured to the manual. "The specifics are detailed in here, as well as the routine maintenance that will need to be performed. Provided no unexpected damage occurs, maintenance by a Tinker should not be required for three to five years. A fault in the shutter's deployment system is the most likely cause of such failure."
He blinked. "Sure, sure. But like, what does it… do?"
She tilted her head. Considered, for a moment, simply referring him to the manual again, as had been her clear intent. But he was a client, and it was not a large inconvenience.
"Hidden cameras watch both interior and exterior, multiple additional wavelengths beyond visible included. Footage is stored in the integrated hard drive. The shutters," she gestured at the shutter housing, neatly concealed between the curtain rods and the walls, "are a composite that will deflect small- to medium- arms, and will cover the windows within 0.3 seconds of activation. The electrical system is equivalent to electric fencing, and has several activation settings that can be chosen. I have also provided replacement doors, locks, and keys, at a much higher security rating than your previous. The manual dictates how they must be installed if you wish for them to integrate with the security system, but they will function stand-alone. I have not installed them myself, as that would be visible from the exterior of the home and raise questions from your neighbors."
He stared. "Uh. Right. That sounds neat though! How do we plug into it?"
Bronya pointed. "There is a connection plate there that will accept most modern data transfer mechanisms. Additionally, you can choose to have it function via local wireless network, though that feature is turned off by default for security reasons."
"Neat! Okay, and how do we pay you?"
Bronya tilted her head again. That had been clearly spelled out in the initial contract. "There is a bookmark in the manual with my account information on it. It is a standard secure account. I accept payment in American dollars or Euros only, at the current Number-Man-defined exchange rate on the day of transaction. As per the contract, payment is due within fifteen business days from receipt of service."
She paused.
"However. I have a personal interest in any functional Tinkertech that manipulates or breaches dimensional boundaries, even should its function not seem useful. Should you come across any, I will pay ten percent above market value for it, twenty percent if instead used as credit towards my services."
"I…" Luna opened his mouth to speak, then paused abruptly. "You know, I think we might actually have something. Let me check, if you don't mind waiting a bit?"
Bronya nodded. "That is acceptable." She restrained the seed of excitement that welled up in her. Even if they had something, it was unlikely to be relevant or useful to her.
But the chance was enough.
She would wait far longer than 'a bit' for a chance at seeing Seele again.
Clack. Clack-clack. Clack. Thud.
Vista scowled up from the ground at the staff hovering above her neck. "Yeah, yeah, I yield."
Dennis pulled his staff away, looking a bit sheepish, and extended a hand. "Sorry if I hit you a bit hard there, I…"
Vista rolled her eyes. "It's sparring, Clock, that's gonna happen." She took his hand, pulling herself up. She winced. Yeah, that was gonna bruise. Least it was high enough on her side that covering it up would be easy.
She looked him over, sighed. He was pretty flushed from the exertion. "You're looking a bit wiped, and I need some water. Take ten?"
He didn't respond.
"Clock?"
He jumped. "Oh, sure! I uh, could use some water too, actually."
She shrugged and made her way over to the water bottles, glancing over to the others as the background sound of their own staves hitting each other ended abruptly.
"...I yield," Chris grunted from his position on the ground, Dean's staff hovering above his neck. Dean nodded, offering him a hand and pulling the younger boy up.
"Good one," Chris said, after a moment catching his breath. "Totally got me with that feint."
"Yeah," Dean admitted, "but I do cheat there. Easy to tell when someone buys it or not, you know?" He tapped his temple.
"Eh, you can't turn it off, not like you're cheating on purpose."
Dean shrugged and stretched. Vista took a long swig from her water bottle. Did Dean know how much that shirt clung to him when he got sweaty? He had to know, right?
She yelped and jumped as something cold pressed against the back of her neck, water splashing from the bottle onto her face.
She spun around, only to find Dennis holding a water bottle thick with condensation. "Clock, you dick!"
Dennis just grinned. "Made you jump!"
She glared.
He hesitated. "...I'll buy you ice cream after practice?" he offered.
"...forgiven. But give me some of the cold stuff." She pointed at the offending bottle imperiously.
He seemed confused for a second, then shook his head, holding out the water bottle. "Uh, sure?"
She took a swig. Cold and refreshing. He'd been smart, refrigerating his water ahead of time. "Thanks," she said, handing it back. He took it, still seeming a bit confused. She rolled her eyes as she turned away. Boys. Cool one day, total dorks the next.
Vista had just looked back to the two boys – taking their starting positions again, looks like they'd decided to go for another before they took a break – when the door near her and Dennis hissed open.
Armsmaster stepped into the room, watching the two heroes spar for several seconds before turning to Vista.
"Vista," he said. "The permission forms are filed from both of your parents."
Vista grinned. "Awesome!" It wasn't a surprise that it had happened – the one upside of her parents was how easy it was to play them off of each other when she wanted something.
Well. Most things.
"We can have things in place for you to start tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"
Vista blinked. "Uh, yeah. Tomorrow's fine!" She resisted the urge to bounce on her feet. Finally! A real mission! None of this kiddy shit. Hell, even the older Wards didn't get to do anything like this.
Armsmaster regarded her for a moment. "This is not intended to be a high-risk mission. If the situation spins out of control, your first goal is to extricate yourself safely. Do you understand?"
She nodded. "I understand. I won't let you down."
He looked at her for a moment longer, then nodded. "Six-thirty tomorrow morning, then."
Vista almost groaned at the thought of such an early morning, but before she could her determination stomped that urge into the dirt.
She was going to do this right.
The door hissed shut behind Armsmaster, the man having left as curtly as he entered.
"Mission, huh?" Dennis asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "What's this about, Vista?"
Vista grinned. "It's a secret."
He kept looking at her, clearly not appeased.
"Okay, fine. I can tell you one thing."
"And that is?" He asked, finally realizing she was waiting for him to respond.
She grinned. "It's a sneaking mission."
Mouse Protector hummed her own theme song – the one from the original cartoon, thank you very much – as she teleported into the room set aside in PRT HQ for entering teleporters. She waved at and bowed to the camera, then adjusted her teleport marker (one of her plushies) to a slightly more prominent position on the shelf while she waited.
A few moments later, the door buzzed, red light replaced with green, and unlocked with an audible 'click.' She grinned, saluted the camera, and headed out.
She flagged down a PRT agent who didn't look too busy.
"Uh… hi?" he asked, a bit uncertainly. She vaguely recognized his face, he wasn't brand new, but they'd never spoken before.
"Hi!" She beamed. "Any chance Miss Militia's in the building? I'd love to have a chat with her, figured I'd see if I could while I dropped by."
"Oh. I think she's in the gym?"
"Thanks!"
"Wait, before you go…"
"What can I do for you?" She smiled. It was going to be an autograph, probably.
"My daughter's Caroline's a big fan, could you possibly… I don't have anything to sign, but…"
"Have no fear!" She pulled a business card out of a pocket, then a pen from her belt pouch. It was no simple pen, however - the Mouse-Pen had a multitude of utility functions, from writing to cat distraction to hijacking boring presentations.
She depressed a button and rotated the butt of the pen – a mouse head, of course – until it clicked, then signed it with a flourish, penmanship elaborate but clear. And with how long it had taken her to practice it, it had better be.
Hi Caroline,
How would you like to be an honorary mouse?
Mouse Protector
"Here you go!" The writing caught the light like metal, but would look like it was a different color in all lighting environments, ensuring maximum readability.
He accepted the card with her thanks, and she marched off to the elevators.
The question was, which of the building's four gyms would Miss M be at…
"Hey there, Miss M!" she said brightly as the other woman set her weights down.
To her great satisfaction, Hana whirled, the ever-present weapon on her hip shifting to… huh, she actually didn't recognize that model of pistol. Someone was making new toys.
She let out a sigh. "Mouse Protector. Did you have to sneak up on me?"
"Wellll… probably not!" She grinned. "But it was a way to take some of the weight out of the wait, you know?"
"That was terrible."
"You wound me, Miss M! I'd better tear up that joke, never to be seen again."
She crossed her arms and sighed again. "What do you want?"
"Can't I just spend time with my old friend?"
"Friend is a bold word, you know."
"Aw, you know you love me!" Mouse Protector stepped in and hugged Hana. After a moment, Hana sighed and returned it.
"Some days you make it very difficult, you know," she said finally, after releasing her.
"Tragically, like the sun, I must not stay too close, lest my rays burn the earth." She grinned despite herself. Hana was so fun to bounce off of!
She blinked. Frowned. "Actually, what do you want? The city's too much of a mess for you to just be bored."
"Tragically, you're right. I actually wanted to pick your brain." Mouse Protector couldn't remember… but Hana never forgot a thing. The blessing and curse of a noctis cape, really.
Hana glanced at the clock on the wall. "I have a few minutes."
"You remember that cape I worked with for a few years, Ronin?"
She nodded. "Right after you left the Protectorate proper?"
"Right! Have you heard anything about him since I went solo a few years later? I was thinking back on those days earlier, and wondering what happened to him." Bit of a half-truth, but… this wasn't the time or place to explain further, either.
"Hm, nothing obvious. I've definitely heard of capes going by Ronin, but nothing I could reliably say was him. Is it important? I could go digging."
"Nah, nah, I'll dig on my own." Mouse Protector shook her head. "Just wanted to see if you'd caught some information in that steel trap of yours." She rapped her helmet.
"Alright, then." Miss Militia turned around again. Mouse Protector found her eyes lingering on the strange gun her power had turned into. Strange… her eyes widened. Aha!
She pulled out her phone, firing off a quick text.
"Oh," Mouse Protector added, as Miss Militia was squatting down to adjust the weight on a barbell. "By the way, I've got an apprentice now!"
The last thing she heard before she teleported away was the sound of her dropping the plate she had just removed.
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