Germination 2.8
Jeffrey Leeds
CPS Investigator, Brockton Bay
(T-Minus 10 Days)
"Okay, last item on the agenda: The Hebert case. Where are we with that?"
Jeffrey Leeds couldn't help but sigh at the question, closing his eyes as he fought a migraine that reared its ugly head. He knew that this was going to come up during the department meeting, but he had hoped that maybe his boss would let him provide his report in private instead of publicly airing it out to an audience.
"Somewhere between fucked and buried, Candace," he finally said after placing his glasses on the table.
"What the hell happened, Jeff? Last time, you told me that the Heberts were playing ball."
"I'm still trying to piece it together, Candace. A week ago, Daniel Hebert was eating out of our hands and doing everything we asked of him. Now, I've got their lawyer asking some rather pointed questions about our procedures while blocking me at every turn. Tomorrow, I have to attend a hearing where the Heberts are submitting a request for emancipation."
"What," Allison Jamison, a fellow investigator spoke up from across the table, "how the fuck do you go from touring schools to submitting a writ for emancipation?"
"I don't know," he threw up his hands, "All I can put together is something happened during the Arcadia tour. But when I asked Skinner what happened, he informed me he was legally unable to tell me."
"Is there any lawsuit against Arcadia by the Heberts that would cause him to keep silent?" Candace asked.
"Nothing locally filed. Nor is there anything filed in Boston either. It
might be federal, but I can't see a reason why the Hebert's would be punching that high for something that would silence a school principal."
"What about Milton? Could he have done something?"
"Once again I return to the question of why. Their lawyer's big league, sure, but for federal it would have to be something major. And I don't see anything that would merit a blip on the federal courts radar."
"Okay, so it's not the lawyer, who is it?"
"Hell if I know. What I do know is that it's not the PRT. They've adopted a hands-off stance after their last run-in with her. Don't know the details of what went down either, because that's been redacted to hell and back."
"Wait? Redacted," Allison spoke, "why would they be redacting an incident report? That's not the PRT's style."
"I don't know what to tell you," Jeffrey offered a shrug, "the only reason I know the report even involves Hebert is the time stamp they have on it matching when they brought her in. Other than that, they might as well have just given me black sheets of paper, because there is nothing you can read on that report."
"Okay," Candace spoke, "let's take a step back and look over the timeline: Twenty-six days ago, Taylor Hebert was brought in by the PRT. We don't know why and we don't have the details of what went down at the Brockton Bay HQ. All we have are redacted files that we do not have clearance to unredact. Coincidentally, that is when you began your investigation, right?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Fast forward to two weeks ago, we confronted the Heberts and their lawyer with our initial findings. From there we recommend that, in order to avoid legal recourse, Taylor Hebert must reduce her work hours to be in line with state standard for her age and she must go back to school. We also recommended a few other things, but that was the general gist, correct?"
"Yes. Danny Hebert and his legal representation agreed to our stipulations. They even provided us with a workable timeline and were keeping us informed along the way. That changed after the school tours a week ago."
"Okay, so seven days ago, something happened that caused the Heberts to stop communicating with us and for some reason they have unleashed their lawyer upon us. So, what
do we know? Is there anything that could indicate the cause of this change of behavior?"
"I don't have a smoking gun, Candace. They did power testing twenty days ago and I have access to that report. Interestingly enough, that is unredacted, but I can't make heads or tails of what they are indicating outside of Hebert being a Thinker, not a Tinker. A few business meetings here and there, Hebert self-reporting his daughter's overage on hours, but there was a plan in place to reduce her hours so I made a note to follow up on the matter later."
He blinked before donning his glasses again, a thought occurring to him as he opened his binder and started going through his notes before he found it. Reading it over, he frowned. He remembered having this conversation, but for the life of him he couldn't remember the specifics. Which was rather strange considering he usually was good on matters like this.
"There
was one meeting that did raise my eyebrow, but according to my notes the lawyer satisfied my questions when I asked. Nineteen days ago, they had a meeting with officials from the Department of Energy, but I don't have the details for some reason."
"Why would the DOE be visiting Hebert? The girl's peddling medical devices last time I checked," Allison asked, and he caught Candace frowning. She did have a point, the only thing that Taylor Hebert had created was this so-called 'Focus', it was certainly nothing that would attract their attention.
"Okay, we're definitely missing something, then," Candace said, "I'll make a few phone calls up to Boston, Jeff. See what I can find out. Allison, do you have time to help Jeff?"
"The Biron case is pretty much a done deal. I feel bad for the girl to be honest. Finding a suitable and local foster family is the only thing holding up finalization. The PRT is making some noise about making her a ward of the state, but it's only a suggestion for now. Yeah, I think I can."
"Go over to the Youth Guard office and start asking questions. They have better resources than we do, maybe they can figure something out."
There was a pause from the other woman as she shifted uncomfortably.
"I thought it was agreed that we didn't want the Youth Guard getting too involved. You know Cathryn is going to flip her shit."
"Tough on the bitch," Candace retorted, "I'm tired of the woman treating us like she owns us. About time she starts carrying some of the water."
"Alright, I'll get on it. Expect an angry phone call soon."
"I look forward to it. Jeff, get down to the courthouse, see if we can get some answers and put some weight on the judge to hold off on the emancipation hearing. I'm not going to let a major case like this go off the rails without an answer and let Taylor Hebert be exploited simply because she has powers."
AEH
Four hours later, Jeff found himself with no answers and only a lot more questions. The judge's office was not forthcoming with any information, but also informed him that the emancipation hearing would continue on schedule and there was nothing he could say or do to change that.
So he had come back to the office, only to be told that Candace wanted to see him. When he had asked where, he was told out back.
Now here he was, marching to the back of the back of the building, his irritation reaching a breaking point. Wrenching the door open, he sauntered outside, a small wooded area providing the perfect place to smoke for the staff.
"Jeff?"
His head snapped in the direction where Candace's voice came from. But whatever he was going to say died a silent death as he took in his boss.
Candace Saunders had always been an unflappable woman who didn't let her job reflect upon her appearance. But that was a far cry from the haunted pale-looking woman with her carefully styled hair askew who clenched a cigarette in her fingers like a lifeline.
Something was definitely wrong, he realized as he walked over to her. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her carton of cigarettes and held it out to him. Taking one of the cancer sticks from it, she then held out her lighter, which he took to light it. Taking a deep drag from it, he then handed her back the lighter.
"That bad, huh?"
"How did Judge Vindmann go?"
"About as well as whatever is bothering you. The judge had one of his flunkies tell me they were not at liberty to disclose anything to me and that the hearing tomorrow would proceed. I have a feeling that the judge has already made a decision."
"I see," the other woman trailed off, taking her own drag from the cigarette, before releasing the toxic fumes into the air. He frowned as she remained silent, only smoking her cigarette as her eyes seemed locked onto the woods.
"We're dropping the Hebert case," she finally declared, causing him to choke mid-inhalation.
With his eyes watering, he turned to look at her even as he grunted out, "What the fuck? Why?"
"I've been ordered to close the investigation and cease all contact with the Heberts. Furthermore, all documentation in relation to the Hebert case is to be collected and destroyed. I am to report on the completion of these orders within two days."
"What the hell is Boston thinking, Candace? Destroy all documentation? That's patently illegal. If it comes out that we did that–"
"It's not Boston. These orders are coming straight from DC."
"But that's…DC has no jurisdiction on a local child abuse investigation, Candace. Can they even do that?"
Finishing her cigarette, she threw it down before grinding her heel on it to put it out. She then turned to him.
"According to Allison, they told the Youth Guard to stand down, Jeffrey. The. Youth. Guard. You think you can tell them no?"
Whatever it was that was going on, he could tell when there was no winning situation. He could see the connections right in front of him, it wasn't the lawyer that was chilling everyone, it was someone in DC, and if they were willing to ignore things like the separation of the federal and state jurisdictions, then something as small as him wouldn't even merit a bug on the windshield.
"I'll turn over all documentation to you within the hour," he sighed, stubbing his own cigarette out, "For the record, Candace, I fucking hate this. Whoever is doing this, the Hebert girl is going to be exploited until she's a dried up husk."
"I know. But what can you do? We fought the good fight, but it's no longer our problem."
AEH
Roy Christener
T-Minus 8 Days
"Your three o'clock is here, Roy."
Taking a deep breath, and slowly releasing it, he allowed himself a few more moments to calm himself. Not three weeks ago, he was looking forward to this sort of conversation, only with a different outcome. It should have been Danny Hebert coming to him, begging forgiveness and returning back into the fold.
Instead, that dream was in shambles, and he still had no idea how it came to be this way.
"Send him in," he finally said, clasping his hands upon his desk.
The door opened a few moments later, letting in John Milton, the Zero Dawn Technologies, and the Hebert's, as he found out recently, personal lawyer. The man cut an intimidating presence as he strolled in, placing his suitcase down beside the chair and taking a seat in the chair in front of Roy's desk without an invitation.
He had to bite back his anger at the blatant disrespect, but he knew that it would be pointless.
"What can I do for you, Mister Milton," he greeted the man as smoothly as he could.
"My clients wish for peace."
He blinked, not sure if he heard correctly. The Heberts had him over the barrel, sure it would create a few unpleasant questions for them, but they could literally bury him.
So to ask for peace was, well, it was something he could not honestly conceive.
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"
"It's not really complicated, Mister Christener. My clients knew something was up the moment the CPS arrived. They're glacially slow unless there's politics involved, and the PRT isn't quite that incompetent to hand over something like that to an outside party. After that was established, it was a matter of asking the right questions and finding the right people to answer them. You were the obvious suspect, considering your history with the Dockworker's Union, but it certainly doesn't hurt to confirm these things before making the accusation."
Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his legs and folded his hands over his raised knee.
"That said, my clients are being remarkably forgiving. They realize how much effort would be wasted bringing you to court when it would be more cost-effective to sue for peace. You stop obstructing Zero Dawn, and my clients and their investors will choose not to inform the FBI agents currently wrapping up their investigation into my client's assault that they have a government corruption issue in city hall. I'd say everyone walks away marginally satisfied and remains relatively intact."
"And if I choose to reject this peace offering," Roy cautiously inquired. It was more of an exercise in knowing what his options were than rejection, he was a politician and he always kept his options open.
The small twitch of the man's lips into a smile was enough to chill him, as Milton uncrossed his legs and slowly leaned forward, the leather of his chair creaking ominously in the suddenly quiet room.
"My firm has been around for quite some time, Mister Christener. One of the things you come to appreciate is the information that is accumulated over the years, the sort of information that some may not find palatable to be exposed to the light. It's a veritable
cauldron of material."
He couldn't help but freeze at the last statement. He had been told that no one could know the deal that he had made with those people with his son. The woman in the fedora had made it abundantly clear that there would be repercussions if he failed in maintaining the secrecy of his deal, including and up to the death of his entire family.
How the hell do they know? He wondered for a moment before realizing that he honestly didn't want to know.
"Peace," he forced out, his voice a rasp at the sudden dryness in his throat. He cleared it, embarrassed at his momentary weakness, "I believe I can accept those terms, Mister Milton. I find myself strangely grateful for your clients' forgiveness and restraint."
"I'm certainly glad you feel that way, Mister Mayor," the man's smile sharpened even further.
AEH
Vice President Jack Ryan (T-Minus 2 Days)
"We're here, sir."
Looking up from the files that he was scanning through one more time, Vice President Jack Ryan then placed the folder down, closing the cover on Taylor Hebert. The last minute research was a habit of his, even if he had already memorized the file three times over.
"Status," he asked, moving his head to work the kinks out of his neck.
"Our absence hasn't been noticed in Boston yet. Nor has there been local chatter on our presence either. Team Two is in position nearby if needed. Once again, I would like to reiterate that this is a bad idea, Jack."
Bad in that he was the Vice President and he shouldn't be here in the first place. It wasn't just from a security standpoint, as he was running the bare minimum of a protective detail, but also the message that would be sent once it became public knowledge that he was here. By his very presence, he was announcing that what he was here for was a big deal, and it would cause additional scrutiny on the matter.
Under any other circumstance, he would not be doing this in the first place. However, inviting Taylor Hebert to Boston would achieve the very same thing that he was doing here. At least, when he was doing this, he would be able to catch the teenager off-guard and gather far more information than if she had warning to prepare by inviting her.
"It'll be fine," he reassured his head of protective detail, Scott Mitchell with a time-honed smile, reaching the door and opening it, the door being caught by one of his protective detail and opened the rest of the way as he stepped out into the overcast sky. Adjusting his suit, he took the time to survey his surroundings as the rich aroma of salt and rust filled his nostrils.
It was a scent that brought him back to his more youthful and carefree days growing up in Baltimore. But as quickly as he reminisced upon it, he buried it behind the responsibility of his job and made one final adjustment to his suit as his security detail arranged themselves around him.
He didn't become the youngest CIA Director in history by allowing himself to be distracted by things like childhood memories, especially when he was on-mission.
"Good," he asked.
"We're clear."
That was why he hand-picked his team. They were nearly infallibly efficient. As Vice President, he was legally assigned a Secret Service escort. And while he did utilize them, when he was out in the field he relied more heavily on the ex-military and former intelligence operatives to provide actual protection. This wasn't a knock against the Secret Service, but over the years he had cultivated connections with people whose mettle he knew and inherently trusted with his safety.
The Secret Service, on the other hand, couldn't be granted that same trust. They were certainly effective, but they lacked that aggressive spirit he preferred. But the most significant deal breaker for him was they counted capes amongst their protective detail ranks, with the PRT's blessing.
He had just been starting as an analyst in the CIA, after a rather lucrative stint as a stock broker that made him millions, when the cape golden age had reached its zenith, followed by its sudden, swift collapse soon thereafter. He, like many in the intelligence community, had been skeptical and even suspicious of the sudden appearance of capes. There was no rational sense to the distribution of powers, nor was there any logic to the scale of those that were granted.
There had been too many questions and not enough answers, which for any competent member of the intelligence community was unacceptably fatal in their field. It was these unknowns that had led the CIA to quietly commission Project Pandora. Much like its namesake, the CIA was keen on discovering not only the origin of powers, but also the mechanisms of its propagation and the intent behind it.
But just as importantly in the quest for the answers, it studied the ramifications of capes on the United States and its allies as the rest of the world came to grapple with, and eventually utilize, this new resource.
How he became involved in Pandora, in spite of his relative inexperience, had been at the behest of the project leader, James Greer. The older department head had taken a shine to him despite only having met him once, and had specifically requested his assignment to the project.
It was there, during Pandora, that his opinions and viewpoints on capes developed. And he also found out why Greer had specifically asked for him as time went on. It wasn't just for his analytical capabilities. Greer was as paranoid as he was effective, and had set him up as a contingency in the event the senior leadership of the Project met an unforeseen 'incident'.
For three years, he worked on Pandora, helping to gather and analyze data gleaned on the nature of capes and their powers. Most of it above the board, some of it not. But what they had amassed had not painted a pleasant picture of capes in general. There was no origin point for the capes to point a finger at. It was as if capes and powers appeared overnight in a randomized pattern. Nor was there any obvious mechanics to their manifestation either. Moments of extreme stress
could manifest powers, but
only if they had a specific mutative (and unnatural) growth in their head.
It had been an accident, to be honest, that they had discovered that what would later be identified as the corona pollentia and gemma were unnatural formations. Brain imaging technology had been a nascent technology in the 70s, but for some of the adult capes, there existed images that firmly established a before and after, and it unequivocally
proved that the growth in a cape's head was not a natural mutation.
That had changed the direction of Pandora's investigation. The manifestation of capes was too random and disconnected for it to be any sort of organized, or even disorganized, scientific experiment funded by a country or company, as it would be against said organizers interest to give up a strategic advantage like that. Nor did the technology exist that could pull off a dispersion and random pattern like this.
So they had turned back and looked at what happened that could have created such a change. After weeks of back and forth, they thought they had an answer.
And that was when James Greer and the senior project leadership had been killed.
He had been lucky that day thanks to his wife. Pregnancy had been hard on her and he had been running behind because of it, when the bomb had gone off he had just been pulling into the parking lot. If he had arrived fifteen minutes sooner, he would have been counted amongst the dead. The bomb had torn a significant chunk out of the corner of the office building, showering the parking lot in debris. He had remembered the horror at immediately recognizing where the bomb had been concentrated.
But he had also remembered quite vividly a sharply dressed woman with a fedora watching the building in the parking lot. The only reason he even noticed her presence was the fact that she looked like she was out of a gangster-era period piece. He would never forget the cold, calculative eyes as she turned to him, as if he was the only person in the parking lot and stared at him as he stood there frozen.
Then, with a rush of bodies blocking her off from his vision for only a few moments, she was gone..
Pandora was shut down before Greer had been laid to rest by Director Ritter. All materials were destroyed and everyone involved in the project found themselves reassigned, sometimes to far-flung locations. Even he hadn't been safe, finding himself reassigned to the London office.
And that would have been the end of it, to be perfectly honest. London, while it certainly could be a prestigious assignment, also had a tendency of killing careers as well. He had a feeling that was why Ritter had assigned him there, the man had not liked Greer's hard-nosed ways honed by the Cold War, and he viewed his assignment to London was to finally put to bed Greer's final touches on the Agency.
Only, it hadn't worked out that way, as he found himself inadvertently involved with preventing IRA-aligned capes from kidnapping a cousin of the queen while sightseeing with his wife and daughter. In the ensuing fight, he had been injured, but not before killing one of the capes and subduing another.
The act of saving a cousin of the queen, while also stopping capes while being unpowered as he was, catapulted him into the limelight, making him an overnight sensation. He found himself being placed as a senior analyst, then department head, in the CIA's 'cape' department, providing the government with intelligence estimates and analysis of cape activities in other countries. His assignment had been propitious, as he had front row seats to the collapse of the People's Republic of China into the Chinese-Union Imperial. It had been through his team that the they had discovered that the actual power behind the restoration of the Aisin-Gioro Throne hadn't been Qing Restorationists, as the Chinese publicly claimed, but were actually a cabal of capes that called themselves the Yàngbǎn.
It had only raised his profile further within the CIA, but had also created ramifications that were still felt even today. The revelation of the power capes could have in overthrowing their government had created several other copycats around the world, with some of them becoming quite successful, and others that left only destruction in their path. The United States had not been safe from this phenomena either, with three different attempts in the last fifteen years, two of them discovered by his team in the years after someone leaked the existence of the Yàngbǎn.
But through all of his experiences that could honestly be ripped from the page of a novel, he had never forgotten Pandora. The knowledge gleaned from the project had colored his perceptions of capes. The creation of the PRT and Protectorate only further colored his opinion of them. He understood the realpolitik of it, capes were simply too powerful to be ignored, but he also disagreed with the power granted to them. But in the atmosphere after the creation, having any sort of anti-cape sentiments were viewed as a political liability, and he had learned too much under Greer not to hide it.
He didn't hate capes, but he couldn't bring himself to ever implicitly trust them. How could you reasonably trust them? If a soldier suffered the type of psychological episode that a cape suffered in order to manifest their power they would be quietly medically discharged from the service. Yet 'heroic' capes were granted the power of badge and became a power upon themselves, answerable only to other capes and an organization that benefited from the existence of capes.
It honestly reeked to the high heavens.
Yet his successes, ties to cape analysis, visible profile, and ability to hide his own personal sentiments on the matter of capes, found him a nomination for Director of the CIA. It had been President Hardin's intention on shifting the CIA's direction to a more cape-heavy focus, providing intelligence support to the Protectorate and PRT that had provided him the opportunity. The strategic shift had grated quite a few of the previous leadership to the point that they had resigned in protest and he found himself rising to the top of the list, with hardly anyone having something negative to say about him.
It had been a shock to him, to be perfectly honest. He himself would have never envisioned when he had made the choice to join the CIA that a mere sixteen years later he would find himself its director.
James Greer must have been laughing his ass off when the nomination had gone through.
But it was a changed CIA that he had inherited. One that not only did have to do more with less due to budget reductions, but found its operational focus changed completely. The Cold War was over and in its place was a more kinetic and chaotic world with an increasingly ever-changing landscape that teetered on the edge of oblivion.
Yet the challenges hadn't deterred him. He had understood what would be needed for the CIA moving forward, and he had applied everything he had learned over the years to make it happen. From embracing new technologies to revamping human intelligence sources. It had been his stewardship that had designed several measures in order to counteract Thinkers, Masters, and Strangers, probably one of the largest threats to their intelligence apparatus.
By the time President Hardin had lost his reelection campaign in 2000, he had left a CIA that was lean, mean, and could readily achieve its strategic objectives in this changed new world. He had been looking forward to retirement and spending time possibly reopening the Pandora investigation on his own. It was the one pledge he had made to himself in memory of Greer.
However, that retirement was short-lived, as the appearance of the Simurgh had once again changed everything. His successor had been at Lausanne for an intelligence summit with other heads of intelligence of their European allies. As a result the Endbringer's attack had been devastating for western intelligence leadership, and Jack once again found himself being drafted to salvage the situation.
After another two years, he had been ready to retire again, this time for good. He had grown disappointed with the direction of the government as it became more insular and the PRT and Protectorate continued to grow in power. It was one thing to increase the budget of a department, but it was quite another thing to do it at the cost of their international interests and allies.
Nor did he care for Rebecca Costa-Brown. There was something about her that rubbed him the wrong way, but even his finely honed instincts couldn't identify what it was that bothered him. All of his attempts to discreetly look into her had come back with nothing of note, but that did nothing to assuage his suspicions. Quite the opposite really. Nobody had such a clean past.
So it was in 2004 that he once again turned in his resignation with the election of President Vincent Durling, this time for good, or so he promised himself. Durling had wanted him to remain, but Jack had made up his mind: He had done his bit for the President and country, and wanted to spend more time with his family. Too much of his time with them had been sacrificed for the public good that he had missed many events in his children's lives as they grew up.
And for three years, his retirement had been just that, a time to reconnect with his wife and children, and pursue other interests. All the while, he restarted the work on Pandora, wanting to finish the investigation, but also discover who the woman in the fedora was, and why his mentor was killed.
But then he found himself once more dragged back in. Only this time, it was at the behest of Vincent Durling. The upcoming election season had been plagued by scandal, with Durling's Vice President having to resign in disgrace thanks to a sex scandal from his university days. To his, and everyone else's surprise, Durling wanted him as his Vice President.
The true reason for this had been kept between the two of them to this day. Apparently Durling had grown suspicious of the PRT and Protectorate. He had been a senator when the PRT had initially been founded and he had watched its meteoric rise with concern. His misgivings with the organization had only grown since, despite the service that it provided. He wanted Jack because he believed that he was probably the best man to take a discreet look at the inner workings of the PRT and Protectorate.
Jack had honestly wanted to decline the request. Politics were one of those things that were never his strength. He could play the game, he just preferred to be more blunt and direct than to dance around the issue. But he had also realized that this was likely his only way to complete his own pledge. He had made progress, but he was hitting too many obstacles at this juncture. Assuming the role of the Vice President would open doors and avenues of investigation that previously he did not have access to.
So in the end, he had accepted, and despite the scandal, Durling was able to win the election. Jack had immediately gotten to work digging into things, including gathering up a few of the old crowd from Pandora. All the while, he had been learning under Durling and establishing himself in DC as the White House's troubleshooter.
He had become so successful that Durling was urging him to run for the Presidency when his second term expired. While he wasn't sure yet if he would, he knew that he was leaning towards yes.
But that was for the future, and while he had his misgivings about capes, he was not above using them for his agenda. When Ken had approached him with the case of Taylor Hebert nearly two weeks ago, he had been skeptical at first. There had been too many false silver bullets over the years between them and their allies that had ended up in wasted resources for him to still believe in the silver bullet scenario.
Yet Ken had been adamant, and they did go back a ways, so he humored the man and launched his own investigation into the teenager. What he had found was largely unremarkable teenage girl, nothing that would indicate anything particularly noteworthy about her. That was until the attack upon her. He had watched the video and by the end of it, he made a note to himself to look into the investigation and subsequent punishments of the perpetrators. As a father he took personal umbrage at what happened to the teen.
After the attack, it was readily evident that the girl had 'triggered'. She had done a rather amateurish job in attempting to obfuscate her patents and scientific articles, and it would have done a decent job in escaping notice on the first pass. However, it might as well have been an open book to one of the most powerful intelligence agencies in the world. But throughout his entire investigation, which included referring to several experts in their field, not once could they find any Tinkertech in the designs. Not only that, but everything she had designed, patented, and published, was perfectly replicable. Assuming of course, that you could afford the team of seasoned experts it took to understand state of the art research. There was no apparent taint of cape powers to it outside of their origin point.
Even further than that, that wasn't the limit of what Hebert was doing either. He had surreptitiously tapped several assets to unobtrusively look into Horizon Zero Dawn's facilities. Certainly, they were producing these new materials that had been patented by Hebert, stockpiling them for eventual buyers, and there were production facilities being set up for her products, but there was another facility that garnered their attention.
His assets were uncertain of what exactly was going on in Warehouse Four, but Ken's observation that Hebert was spending an inordinate amount of time in there was proven true. Almost every day, Hebert spent at least ten hours in that building, with materials being brought in under the cover of night and a tarp over them. The attempt at secrecy was certainly amateurish, but it was nonetheless effective for the short term.
The lack of knowledge on what was going on in Warehouse Four was worrisome. Even Hebert's interview with the Department of Energy, as amiable as it was, was not enough to allay his concerns. Unknowns were the enemy of his field, and there were too many unknowns for him to be comfortable. Nonetheless, he kept his options open, and did not immediately assume that there was something nefarious occurring in Warehouse Four. It just kept him on edge.
And certainly, trying to unravel that mystery was part of why he was here. The other part was to get a personal feel for the girl. It was convenient that he had an opportunity easily provided to him. He had a meeting with industry and financial heads for a possible campaign in Boston in two days, and with Brockton Bay less than two hours travel time from there he couldn't stop himself from taking a look for himself. It provided him with the perfect opportunity to slip into Brockton Bay quietly while everyone believed that he was still in Boston, preparing for the meeting.
Taking the lead, he strode towards the door, his protective detail falling in around him. All the while, his eyes were scanning the surroundings, idly noting the various surveillance cameras arrayed over the premises. It appeared that they had added a bit of security since the last report, he couldn't help but approve of it.
Stepping through the door and into the reception area, he noted even more additional security cameras, but also a pair of armed security personnel stationed near the doors that would lead further into the facility. That was another development that he hadn't been aware of. Taking it in stride, he marched towards the receptionist desk where a woman was staring him and his men down, all the while the security personnel were obviously communicating with someone else.
He offered a disarming smile, "Good Afternoon, I'm here to meet with Taylor Hebert."
"I'm sorry," was her response, "but Miss Hebert is not accepting any appointments at this time. I'll happily schedule you an appointment for a later time."
He had to hand it to the woman, that was probably the best response to give in this day and age where you can never be sure if someone is who they were or if they were not mastered. It was an inconvenience he could approve of.
"I think she will make time for me, Miss Williams."
"I'm sorry, I am under explicit orders from Miss Hebert herself that she is not to be disturbed under any circumstances. This includes a visit from the Vice President, if that is truly who you are. Now, I would be happy to schedule you an appointment. However, it will not take place until after the next Endbringer attack has been concluded. If you are unable to accept that, then I apologize, but I cannot help you any further and ask that you leave the premises."
As he opened his mouth to further insist, the phone beside her rang. She glanced at the phone, her brow furrowing, before she looked back to him. It was quickly evident that she didn't want to answer the phone. Why she wasn't doing what was her job after she had obviously dismissed him only stoked his curiosity.
She seemed to make a decision as she picked up the phone, placing it to her ear, "Yes, Miss Hebert?"
He blinked, carefully hiding his surprise. The timing of the phone call was too impeccable to be a coincidence. Which, his gaze flitted over to the camera watching the lobby, suggested that Hebert was watching this. The timespan between his arrival and the phone call was too short for it to have been run through the various levels of security. But that didn't fit the psychological profile that had been built of the girl, she wasn't supposed to be paranoid to the point where she would be actively watching security cameras.
Logging that away for future reference, he kept an ear to the conversation.
"Of course, Miss Hebert. No, I will have Adam escort them. Thank you, Miss Hebert."
Hanging up the phone, the receptionist looked back to them, her expression closed off and obviously not pleased at the outcome.
"Miss Hebert will see you now."
She turned her head, "Adam, please take the Vice President and two of his men to Warehouse Four."
A man with slicked back-and-up brown hair and a rather stylish beard stepped towards them, even as Scott Mitchell, the lead of his protective detail, began to protest.
"It's fine," he waved off the man's protests, "we are the ones imposing upon Miss Hebert's time, Scott. I doubt she would go to such lengths just to do something untoward."
Mitchell fell silent after his interjection. The man had been with him for nearly four years now, he knew when to push and when to trust. Merely offering a reluctant nod, he motioned to another member, and they fell in behind him as he began following Adam who offered a gruff "Follow me."
They were shepherded to a trio of golf carts, where he and his protection were allowed to take one cart, while Adam went to the front cart, and another pair of security personnel found themselves in a back cart. They were then on their way as they followed Adam as he led them through the compound.
While on the way, he noted the level of activity had increased from what was described in the last report. He was unsure what exactly had caused that, but it was likely they were ramping up for a product release. Which didn't make much sense considering their catalog, even if they sold their so called "Focus" without marketing them as medical devices in order to sidestep the lengthy FDA approval process, there was some paperwork they would have had to file first, and none of it had been filed yet. He knew that there was some growing interest in the materials that had been patented by Zero Dawn, but they were still in the testing process.
Soonthey arrived at Warehouse Four, and after another set of guards and a security scan, they were let into the facility. And finding themselves in a scene that would not be out of place in a Tinker's workshop. For a brief instant, he wondered if, after everything, Taylor Hebert had been able to dupe them. But then he took in the fact that there were actual workers, and not other capes, working on the various machines, that he allowed himself to calm slightly.
So this is what she's been hiding, he mused as he took in everything. He had expected some sort of secret project, but this far exceeded even his most unhinged estimations.
There were numerous alcoves and cradles, with people milling around them, even as the sound of metal striking concrete and cutting noises echoed through the facility. But in the middle of the open floor were what could only be described as machines styled after animals that were, for lack of better description, being run through their paces. He watched as one that was the size of a man and reminded him of a hyena was currently cutting through a thick steel plate. Further back, a smaller ferret-shaped machine was scuttling around, climbing various pieces of debris as another bipedal machine's head attached to a serpentine neck tracked it.
"This way, sir," Adam said, but before they went any further, Scott decided to voice his own opinion on the matter.
"Sir, this isn't secure."
He considered it for only a moment before shaking it off. He was the one who had insisted on imposing without accurate intelligence. While Scott was right, admitting it would only complicate matters further than they already were.
And he was honestly interested as to what these machines were supposed to do. Common sense would dictate that something like this she would want to keep hidden until she was ready, but here she was letting them behind the curtain and see what she was working on.
"It's fine," and with that, while Mitchell obviously didn't approve, he nodded and shifted his posture even closer to being ready for violence. He then followed after Adam and found himself left to a cradle with what was the largest 'machine' in the room, a bipedal machine with an oblong head that towered over all of them. All around it were several people who were crawling over it, attaching various plates to it, but his eyes were only for the small figure with their back to him, currently sitting in front of a computer, various cords and cables running into the 'stomach' of the large machine. The screen of the computer was indecipherable to him, numerous windows open and indecipherable lines of symbols, letters, and numbers filling the screen.
The large machine's head turned slightly towards him, and he felt himself freeze for a moment. But instead of doing anything more, it turned its head back and looked straight ahead after a moment. All the while, who could only be Taylor Hebert continued working without any indication that she had noticed their arrival.
"I'll be right with you," she called out, continuing her work on the terminal without even looking away from it, her fingers gliding over the keyboard, the only sounds from her being the clicking sound of the mechanical keyboard as she worked.
"Quentin, take over," she finally said, sliding back in the chair, "try and review the code in the communications suite. There's a fault in the handover protocol, pretty sure it's locked down now, but run a few more tests and see if anything comes loose."
Getting up, she stretched herself out, hands over her head, before she turned and he was given his first look at Taylor Hebert.
If he wasn't aware of who she was at this juncture, he would likely have been skeptical. Outside of the device on the side of her head that glowed brightly, there was nothing that suggested that this girl was a fountain of ideas and technology previously unseen.
But then again, that was what a lot of capes were. You never expected them to be capable of what they were until they finally showed it. Just another symptom of this world and the inherent brokenness wrought by the introduction of powers into it.
"Vice President Ryan," she greeted, "I find myself both honored and surprised by your presence. I didn't think I'd done enough yet to merit this kind of attention."
Taking note of the word choice, specifically the 'yet', to follow up later, he offered a small reassuring smile.
"You've been making quite a few waves behind closed doors with your reactor design, Miss Hebert. And Secretary Lafferty regaled me with how much of an impression you made upon his team. He also felt that you had a few more tricks up your sleeve," he then made it a point to look around the warehouse as work continued, "it would seem he was right."
The soft laugh that came from her lips was certainly not what he expected, maybe a bit of awkwardness, but she just seemed to take it all in stride, "Well I guess this cat's out of the bag. Would you like a short briefing, Mr. Vice President? I would offer a tour, but with us undergoing last minute preparations and testing, I am afraid things are rather chaotic at the moment."
"I find myself somewhat intrigued at all of this, so I would appreciate it. And please, call me Jack."
"Only if you call me Taylor," the teen returned with practiced ease, "What you are seeing is the first prototype production batch of what I have given the designation of a Light Rescue Lance. It is designed to provide search and rescue assistance in disaster areas. We were planning to debut this after the next Endbringer fight."
Rescue, huh, he thought, looking over the room, noting the various machines. He wasn't an expert on robotics, but that didn't mean he was not blind to the possible military applications such machines would have. Even if they were not armed, their weight and strength alone could still be used with devastating results against unarmed civilians.
"Why lance?" he asked, deciding that it would be better to ask a more innocent question before getting to the meat of it all, "I notice you have enough machines to comprise what would be classically known as a squad."
"A squad has far too many military implications to it and I feel that it is not unique from a marketing standpoint." she answered, following his gaze, "I don't want people to get the wrong idea from these machines. They are purpose built to help in saving lives. The reason I chose the designation of Lance is because of its origin, the
Lance Fournie, or equipped lance. In the medieval times, it was a military unit that was made up of a knight and supporting personnel. I felt that tapping into the romantic notions of the medieval period and our views on knights being chivalrous exemplars of society would go a long way towards tempering reactions."
"Yet, by your name choice for a formation designation and the addition of a descriptor for its purpose suggests that there is an additional military aspect or template that has a military purpose to it."
"There is," she admitted after only a brief moment's hesitation. He had to give her a notch on her audacity in admission, a lot of corporate types would try and avoid answering the question instead, "the units you see before here, outside of the Charger and this version of the Titan, can be equipped with a variety of lethal and nonlethal options if so chosen. There are also other more offensive designs that are currently only blueprints. However, even if I had the capacity to produce them, they would not make a difference in the fight with an Endbringer at this juncture."
"But you believe they could make a difference given enough time."
She met his statement with silence for a minute, not turning her gaze to him, obviously contemplating her response.
"I would be an absolute idiot to promise you something I do not have sufficient data upon. There are just too many variables involved to give you any definitive answer that would leave me wholly satisfied," she then paused, before continuing, "That being said, it is my personal belief that given enough time I could come up with weapons and technology that could give pause to an endbringer, if not be able to assist in driving them back with sufficient application."
The answer was certainly not what he expected from her, and honestly, he was coming around to the conclusion that expectations were certainly something that she actively flaunted. He had a feeling that in a few years, if this all worked out and she established herself, she would be a force to be reckoned with. But the answer, the unequivocal belief in her tone, made him wonder just what it was, if it wasn't machines, but something else. And he was one to investigate down to the bedrock if need be to find answers.
"Like what, Taylor?"
She turned to him, "Not here. I trust these people, but for a discussion like that, I would prefer a more secure location. How about we finish this and then I'll show you my lab?"
He considered it for a moment, before nodding, "After you, then."
"The Rescue Lance concept is simple, it is meant to go into disaster areas and provide immediate rescue assistance. In this template, the lance consists of four Red Eyes, which are the eyes of the unit, with their advanced sensors they can penetrate debris and detect survivors faster and more efficiently than any existing non-parahuman search and rescue technology and tactics. At its heart, it is the disaster search dog of the unit, while also providing data to the command unit in order to coordinate and decide how to approach rescue quickly. To provide the muscle of the unit for SAR is a pair of Burrowers and a Scrapper. Burrowers by their name, are meant to quickly dig or burrow to survivors, providing aid and extraction. The Scrapper, on the other hand, is for more difficult extractions, such as large pieces of debris hindering the process or even instances where the Burrower could destabilize the debris and cause collapse. They are meant to cut or shred pieces of debris and allow for faster extraction."
"Okay, I'm following you so far, you have basically mechanized an entire search and rescue team. However, I have noticed you have left off the Charger and the other unit you were working on when I arrived. They don't seem to fit the purpose of the others."
"That's because they don't. The other two units fit in the role of logistics and command. The Charger is designed to be a mobile fuel processor and distributor for the rest of the unit. All of these machines operate using a combustion reactor, with the plant and inert biomatter being collected and processed.
He rolled the statement over his head, while he was not a scientist, he could understand a large proportion of what she was referring to. But the 'biomatter' portion was a worrisome statement, especially with the focused specificity. It didn't take much to consider what she was omitting.
"I gather from the fact that you are going out of your way to be specific that this is a programmed limitation due to matter being matter. Is there a chance that this programming can be changed?"
A moment's hesitance was his initial response, Taylor apparently finding distaste in the idea, before she answered, "Yes. With the right application of brute force. The operating system for these machines are black-boxed and can only be altered by Zero Dawn Technologies. Any attempt to tamper with the system or the machine itself will cause the machine to go into a dormant state and call the company. It's a failsafe that will be installed into every single Zero Dawn Technology machine. In the future, I hope to have a system put in place for the machine to be able to alert authorities as well, in the event that we are not able to immediately stop the attempt."
He wasn't exactly happy with that admission, the implications that a machine could target humans for 'biomatter' was something that was concerning. Even the supposed safeguards that Hebert was suggesting may not be sufficient, but at least Hebert was thinking of proactive measures in order to protect the populace.
"Is such a feature limited to the Charger?"
"Biomatter collection and processing is hard-limited to logistical models like the Charger. None of the other models have the capacity or capability to do so. Nor are they coded with the ability to collect biomatter for logistical models to process either. That way, in the event that something goes wrong, the fuel for the machines limits their operational capacity and limits their capacity for damage. The reason I chose the Charger is both for machine recognition, but also because of the logistical models, it has the lowest storage capacity."
"Smart," and it was, despite his misgivings, he was satisfied that Hebert was doing her best to consider any contingency, which lent credence that she had a good head on her shoulders. Too many company times were absolutely focused on profit at any cost, with the public holding the 'unforeseen' costs of such a mindset, "But returning to the energy source, I am curious as to why you omitted any mention of this to the DOE."
"I did discuss with them the feasibility of a new fuel cell type, but I deliberately left it open-ended because I did not feel comfortable sharing it yet. I honestly still don't. And it's not just because of the design, but rather the implications of it. This isn't like any existing fuel cell, it's not limited to machines, with the right application and adjustments, I'm worried about the short-term and long-term impact upon the economy. Blaze, as we call this fuel, offers significantly more energy per gallon than anything currently existing on the market, or in known development. So for now, it will be treated as the fuel source exclusively for our machines, and I'll wait for the world to ask the questions when it comes to whether it can do more and go from there."
So Ken was right after all, even if he didn't realize it, he mused to himself, staring at the girl. She was right, if what she was saying was true, if this 'Blaze' was as good as she was saying, then it would likely have game changing implications, and there would be quite a lot of people who would take exception to the technology. If this fuel could be used in machines, why couldn't it be used for something else? Something like a car or truck?
It was a dangerous gamble, and it only caused him to lean further into his recommendation to the President on the matter of Taylor Hebert. If even a portion of what she was offering would pan out, then she would easily earn every single taxpayer dollar that would be diverted to her protection.
Still, there remained questions to be asked before he was satisfied. He didn't just want to know more about what she was offering, but he also needed to know more about her as a person.
"I think you're overestimating the economic impact of this Blaze, Taylor. Even if your estimations are right, most of the world is hungry for energy; oil will still sell until you've enough production capacity to overshadow current oil reserves. You might have the green activists showering you with praise, depending on the environmental impact, but I expect it'll face the same problem as electric cars. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this sounds like a complex fuel to produce? Complex means expensive, especially before you hit economies of scale. Nonetheless, you are right, what you are developing may have larger implications, but it also has vast implications upon your own business. What do your investors think about all of this?"
The wince he received from the girl served to remind him that he was dealing with a teenager despite all of this talk. Because it could have been something he would have seen from his daughter back in the day after she was caught sneaking out at night.
"Right now, you are right. The process is complex currently because I do not have the production facilities to produce the required chemicals in large amounts. Once those are able to come online, then the process and production of blaze will be simplified significantly. As for the investors, I have to provide a video briefing to them tomorrow," she finally admitted, "when I broached the subject they were not exactly enthusiastic. However, after explaining to them what I have planned, they are tentatively supporting it. It helps that I have been able to start returning on their investment thanks to initial material sales. For now we have an agreement that as long as I keep paying dividends on their investment they will give me free rein. Furthermore, we have recently opened negotiations with a potential business partner, but I am afraid I can't say any more on that topic."
Jack nodded politely, reserving himself from revealing that he already knew who she was in talks with. It was a rather intelligent decision, Medhall had enough reach in the Northeast markets where these Focuses would have an impact and be able to gain traction. It would be lucrative for both parties, in the long run, especially once Hebert proved the technology, as it would then open the doors for the other models she was working on on the side.
There was nothing to say about the fact that she was doing this on the sly and the fly. If she were completely responsible, she would have already reported this project to FEMA and other relevant government organizations. The idea of having additional producible assets to assist in search and rescue, and disaster relief, would be a god-send for services that were already on edge in lieu of the next Endbringer attack and its calculated range of attack.
"And what is this last model," he decided to change the subject, refocusing them upon the last machine that she had been working on previously. 'Quentin' was currently working at the terminal that Taylor had previously vacated, looking as intensely focused as she had previously been.
"That is the Titan. For now, it is the beating heart and brain of the LRL concept. In the future, I hope to be able to use existing cellular networks in order to exchange data and coordinate between machines, but for now, the Titan is the measure that allows this concept to work. Housed inside the chassis is probably one of the most powerful computers in the world for its size which allows the Titan to serve as a mobile command and logistics hub for the Lance. Furthermore, thanks to the communications suite that it is equipped with, it can also serve as a mobile hub for communications, which in a disaster area that may be bereft of cellular and communications capability, would be a godsend for rescuers."
And she would be right. One of the most critical aspects of any disaster area was to have communications restored as quickly as possible, but if your infrastructure was devastated, then, depending upon the level of damage, it could take upwards of weeks in order to truly establish reliable civilian communications again.
He suspected there was more to it than she had revealed so far, because Taylor Hebert was not striking him as someone who did things by halves. And the impact of what she was doing would be felt, but with so few machines, it may not be the impact that she was looking for if it wasn't framed the right way.
"Two questions, Taylor. When do you think they will be ready for deployment? And how soon could you have more?"
"They will be ready by tomorrow night. The only issue we are having is the communications suite with the Titan, and I am planning to pull an all-nighter if I have to to fix it. The latest it will be ready is tomorrow morning. As for additional units? The problem comes down to the production process. There is no assembly line, everything has to be done by hand. We were lucky in getting this first batch assembled in three weeks, and that's only because we got the forges fired up in advance and had them running round-the-clock."
She reached up and massaged her brow, a hint of exhaustion showing.
"Even without the need for secrecy, retasking the forges and molds necessary to produce parts and materials for new units will take time, as they have already been reassigned to other jobs.
IF I could quickly get them retasked and I got the necessary computer components without any complications,
maybe another month before we would be able to produce another mech or two. That would exclude the Titan, for which I couldn't give you a timetable even if you had a gun to my head. Frankly, the team is exhausted, and we've only been pushing ourselves so hard because of the Endbringer attack."
He nodded solemnly. He had honestly expected such a response, looking at the complexity of the machines and taking into consideration her own statements, he thought that Taylor was vastly underestimating how quickly she could produce more units. But he kept that thought to himself, instead he considered the other angle. What if he could open doors she was previously unaware of?
"What if I could find you the support to speed up the process?"
She paused her massage, and he could see the gears turning in her head now.
"Honestly? Depending on what they can offer, and how quickly we can adapt their production methods to fulfill the requirements for the machines? Maybe two weeks," she shook her head as if she was saying no, but was unsure if that was the actual answer, "I mean, I really can't give you anything more accurate, because this is all hypothetical."
He considered what she was saying. He wasn't going to commit to anything yet, because it would be foolhardy to do so until he had proven results. But, if Taylor Hebert's machines did perform as she was advertising, then it might be worth looking into.
"Well," he smiled, his choice now cemented on what he was going to do, but now increasingly curious as to what else Taylor Hebert has, "I'm quite interested in what else you have to offer, Miss Hebert."
When he left four hours later, the door to his vehicle hadn't shut before he was already on the phone with President Durling.
AEH
Taylor Hebert
Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!
Even an hour later I could not help but feel like I was on cloud nine and there was not a goddamn thing that could bring me down right now. Hell, I couldn't even focus on working on the communications suite on the Titan, just staring holes in the screen and I knew I was probably wearing a dopey grin.
But dammit, never in my wildest dreams when I hatched dropping the reactor blueprint on the PRT had I envisioned that I would garner the attention of the fucking Vice President of the United States. I mean, how the hell could I have expected that?! The Department of Energy was a calculated gamble, but dammit, was my math terrible!
Dad was just as dumbfounded as I was. He had ended up joining us when I had taken Jack (Jack!) back to my lab. I know what I was offering was only blueprints, and ideas, but with the right application of industry and science, it wasn't a matter of years of R and tests, but a matter of months because the science was already there! I knew as I talked to him, and explained to him just what I could offer, even in the span of a year or two, that I had found myself something far more powerful than the Department of Energy backing me.
It ran in the face of what I believed, but the fact of the matter was, in order to achieve my goals, at the end of the day, it couldn't just be the plowshare that flourished, but the sword must also be sharpened. Even if I could stem back years of decline, it would not help unless the causes of that decline were also rendered inconsequential, if not eliminated.
But still. Holy shit! I laughed to myself as I shook my head, gaining a few worried looks from the crew.
The future was looking a whole lot brighter than before the day started!
AEH
Accord (T-25 Minutes)
Alain Gabriel considered himself a largely calm and reasonable person. It was this calm and reasonability that had allowed him to successfully cultivate his small empire in Boston. Not just as Accord, but as the face of Far Zenith. Everything gained was through a mixture of calm, reason, and methodical actions. Nothing wasted in this pursuit of power and wealth.
There were of course moments when this calm and reason did waver, usually in the face of the truly chaotic and reprehensible, but in the end, it always ended the same way with him prevailing.
But right now, he was
far from calm, and reason was currently a foreign concept
at best!
On one hand, there was a nearly insatiable urge to curse the entirety of the bloodline that had led to the spawn of Taylor Hebert. From stem to root, with not a singular exception. But, the calmer part of him could only applaud how the teenage girl had far exceeded
even his projections.
When she had walked into that conference room two months ago, he had thought of the years that it would take for her to establish herself. There was no doubt in his mind that it would happen. What Hebert offered to the world was incomparable to anything in existence. It was why he had chosen to invest in her, safe in the knowledge that even if there were bumps along the way, what she would do would be the stuff of legend if she were provided the opportunity to flourish.
But that plan had been measured in
years!
Not less than three months!
And he certainly hadn't foreseen that she would gain the interest of John Patrick Ryan!
There were a handful of political figures who merited a file within the halls of WEDGDG, and only one of them came with a warning that any reports involving Jack Ryan were to be immediately forwarded to the Chief Director herself. It was only after he had left the organization that he would come to realize just why the man was such a large deal, despite his lack of powers.
Ryan was an old school spook through and through. He was also one of the few people that wasn't beholden to the pageantry and grandeur that the PRT and Protectorate wielded as their shield. He was paranoid, and he didn't care about the rules. But he was also smart enough to not be caught breaking the rules the PRT stringently enforced.
The fact that over two decades he had been able to slowly raise his status in spite of his barely hidden stance on capes was a credit to the man himself. It certainly also helped that he was intelligent and canny enough to develop means to combat capes in his field, with many of his measures and ideas becoming adopted by other intelligence agencies.
No, he could understand why the Chief Director was wary of the man. He was a threat to her power, and he wasn't afraid to pick a fight if he believed it was a righteous one.
But it wasn't the threat he presented to the Chief Director, or even his stance upon capes. What terrified him was the man's continued ties to the intelligence community, despite the fact that he was no longer officially part of it. Many of the analysts and agents that now made up the CIA, and even the NSA, were cultivated under the leadership of Ryan, which provided him a source of power that few politicians, or even leaders, had. The power of knowledge.
There was no doubt in his mind that if Jack Ryan was looking at Zero Dawn, there was a high probability that he was also looking at the money that had gone into it. It was too much for a spook like Ryan to ignore, he would be curious as to why an investment group would put so much money into an unproven teenage cape. It was not a matter of if, but a matter of when, he would be able to discern that Far Zenith was a front company for Ambassadors.
And after that…
He stared at the roiling clouds in the distance, his neutral expression firmly fixed on his face.
The choices he had before him were…vexing, but they were nonetheless salvageable. There was no way he would be able to escape Ryan once he turned his full attention to Far Zenith, it was an unavoidable fact, but disaster could be avoided if a choice was made.
But the matter was
should he make the choice?
When he had decided to supply Zero Dawn with its startup money, it had been with the belief that within five years he would be able to recoup the investment with a modest profit, and be able to detach from the company itself. While it would be a dark mark upon Zero Dawn if it ever came to light, it would be survivable, and with the right application of public relations, actually be made into a plus for the Heberts.
But at this time, if it was revealed that the Ambassadors and the Elite, two villainous organizations, had provided the money to get Zero Dawn rolling, it would ruinously taint the company. No one would be able to trust the company as not fulfilling some sort of criminal agenda, even if there truly wasn't one. Zero Dawn's reputation would never be able to recover from it, and the plan would only be set back even further.
But if he chose to make the choice, if he chose to embrace the only path forward that could still salvage the plan, all it would possibly cost was himself. Was he willing to make that sacrifice if necessary?
He was.
Ryan was a man who did not view the world in black and white, he couldn't afford to in his field. The world was cast in so many different grays that it was impossible to truly make sense of what was right, or even what was wrong anymore. So the idea of villains backing something beneficial to society, without requesting anything except a return on investment, was something that was not only believable, but could be understood in a world of gray.
It was a good thing he had sent Citrine back to Brockton Bay last night after Hebert's call. It wouldn't do well for her to be here as he chose to do this. She would likely not understand, at least not yet, just why he felt the need to do this.
There was only one pathway forward to salvage all of this: He would have to reveal to Jack Ryan just who was backing Zero Dawn Technologies and why he was doing so.
If there was any good news to this, it was that Ryan was on the same page as him in being aware of just what exactly Hebert was offering. It would allow for his admission to go a lot more smoothly than if he did it for some random reason.
The gala wasn't supposed to take place for another two hours, but he already knew that the Vice President was there, meeting behind closed doors with several business leaders. He usually did not dabble with politics, it simply was beneath him, but he still nonetheless had an invitation to attend the function this evening.
His best opportunity would be to arrive before then and use his connection with Zero Dawn in order to gain an audience with the man. It would probably be the only opportunity he had, unless Ryan personally sought him out. If that happened, he was unsure of what would happen next.
No, he would have to strike first and swiftly, if there was to be any hope to salvage the situation. And it may cost him, but it was certainly a better option than trying to run when it was already too late to salvage the situation.
All because Taylor Hebert could not resist thumbing her nose at the PRT.
A surge of rage flashed through him before he tamped it down. He knew what he was likely going to get when he had first agreed with Uppercrust to fund the girl. He didn't have to like it though. He had inadvertently tied his fate to this girl, and the butcher bill was coming to pass far sooner than expected.
Taking a deep breath, before releasing it, he closed his eyes before reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Rain had started to come down on the windows, only reinforcing his feelings on the matter.
"Theresa, please have my car ready in ten minutes. The civilian one."
"
Of course, Mister Gabriel, right away."
He ended the call, placing the phone back in his pocket before reaching up and adjusting his tie. He then paused as the rain started to come down harder upon the windows, almost like a sheet now as the sound of the rain hitting the reinforced glass.
He then frowned as a thought occurred to him, something that had been niggling at the back of his mind, but had been ignored because the matter of Jack Ryan had dominated his attention.
There had been no rain in the weather forecast for today.
The sudden shrill alert sounded from his phone, even as his mind started to calculate with mounting horror just what was going on. Even as he reached for his phone, to check what the alert was for, he already knew what he would see. As he finally retrieved it and pulled it up, sirens began to go off in the distance, their noise a herald for the end as it removed any doubt of what was happening.
Leviathan was coming to Boston.
