76.2 Interlude Victor
Victor sat in his study, observing as feeds of information from a dozen sources played across his screens. Calling it a 'study' was probably too light a term for what his home office had developed into over the years. It was halfway between a command center and an intelligence base. Whenever he wasn't in the field, the lifeblood of the Empire flowed through this place, all under his watchful gaze.
There was a real question as to when he would return to the field. It wasn't just the Empire's enemies who had been put off by Apeiron revealing the specifics of Victor's powers. The other Empire capes, and even some of their high ranking nonpowered officers had become wary of his presence. As if the slightest exposure to him would reduce them to drooling idiots.
It probably didn't help that he regularly leveraged that exact threat when dealing with enemy agents. People who could stand up to any level or pain or injury found themselves unable to cope with the possibility of permanently losing their hard-earned skills. Plenty of members of the Empire had seen him cow some of the hardest men in the city with the threat of exactly what they were now fretting about, and it was difficult to assure them that there was nothing to worry about when they had regularly seen the effects firsthand.
Difficult, but not impossible. Not for him. The lifetimes of skills he had acquired put him beyond other men. Challenges were something to be met and overcome. He was confident that the array of public relations, crisis response, interpersonal, and leadership skills he'd amassed could see him through, though possibly not in the timeframe available to him.
Things in the city were progressing, and progressing too quickly for even someone like him. The limits of his abilities chafed him. Specifically, the limits of how he could make use of his abilities. He held capacities beyond what any other man could even dream of, but was limited to being in one place, at one time, and acting through the restrictions of a mortal body. The wealth of power, knowledge, and ability he possessed only served to taunt him with how much more it could be, what it could accomplish if he was just a little more.
It was something he could deal with. Recognize and deal with. Some of the most useful skills he acquired were the ones that could be directed inward. Recognition of one's own thoughts and desires, moderation of your emotions, and the ability to focus and come to peace with your situation. Without them he could easily have gone too far, reached beyond his means and come crashing down at some early point in his career. Instead, he had mastered control. Control bolted on top of juvenile frustration and the instability that permeated parahuman mindsets, but control nonetheless. He would not become a slave to his power, like so many other thinkers. The chains that would control him could be leveraged to grant drive and direction.
Other people didn't care about those kinds of skills. They didn't even recognize their presence, much less their importance. The foundation that allowed him to prop up not just himself, but the entire organization, and it would be regarded as a novelty at best. There was a reason why Victor had given up on explaining the nuances of his power.
The focus was always on broad, obvious skills. Things formally taught with clear applications. They heard 'skill thief' and assumed only the most obvious uses. Years of university education, proficiency in a profession or trade, or expertise in areas of combat. Those who were more creatively inclined might extend that to skills that didn't have as formal a training process. Debate and rhetoric had been highlighted as a possibility at the summit, and it was an accurate assumption, but an incomplete one. People focused on what could be taught, not the precious insights that could only be gained by an expert mind sharpening their craft.
There were nuances to skills that nobody else understood. Particular shortcuts, tricks, or secrets of efficiency that could only emerge after the basics of an art were known, and were almost impossible to put into words. Aspects that would normally be impossible to teach, save for a lifetime of subtle instruction from a gifted master to a promising apprentice. Even then, there would be no formal documentation of what was being communicated. When people talked about lost arts, those were the parts that were lost. The texture of the skill, not its raw form.
That was what Victor was able to collect. That was what allowed him to grow, even after so many years with his power. The improvements were smaller, but they were there. A trick in studying, a memory technique, a particular way of handling tools, or an organization method conducted almost subconsciously. Thousands of optimizations that could only exist in the organic system of a human mind, all coming together to allow him to function as something that edged beyond the limits of humanity.
But not that far beyond. Reflection was a skill, as was self-appraisal, and Victor had needed to put both to good use. He possessed a mastery of technique that few people could even comprehend, but standing on the same level as even the dregs of the Empire took constant effort. Even his unrivaled mastery could fall short in the face of those who simply changed the rules of the game.
It was a reality of the world of parahumans. Victor could operate at the absolute peak of human skill, but there were points where no human effort could stand against the kind of strength that a cape could bring to bear. It was part of the encounter doctrine, baked into PRT response policies. Level eight on the threat assessments was the hard limit, the point where no unpowered individuals were expected to engage. It was a threshold plenty of members of the Empire crossed, with even more being close enough that the distinction hardly mattered. Standing in a circle of gods, even the paragon of humanity was easy to overlook.
But he had Othala. The synergy between their powers was so strong they were barely viewed as separate entities within the organization. Thanks to the brief bursts of power, he was able to stand on the same level as the titans of the Empire, however temporarily.
What would his life have been like without her? It was almost a moot point; the Herren Clans would never have accepted him without a marriage to one of their own. No matter how hard he worked, what he accomplished, he was still an outsider whose presence was tolerated through a link of blood. All the work he had put in to be MORE, to be someone worthy, wouldn't have been enough. Even after he triggered, that just shifted the prospects for his marriage, rather than negating the necessity of it.
Without Othala, without being able to wade into the thick of a cape battle, to move with lightning speed or weather titanic blows, to strike with impossible force, to take to the air or command fire by his will, what role would he have been able to fill? Skirting around the edges of combat while seeking out targets soft enough to be brought down without the support of cape powers? Pushed even further into a support role, left managing the 'mundane' side of the gang's operations while brutes and idiots secured the glory he labored to facilitate? Perhaps kept as a particular threat against captured enemies or dissenting members, or to humiliate acceptable targets.
All things he currently did, but the thought of being limited to that grated on him. He was more than that, but also limited, and it was a limit he could never overcome. Not on his own.
At least, not until recently.
No, there would be time for that later. Schedule management was one of the many things he excelled at. It allowed him to maintain a supportive and healthy lifestyle in the face of a workload that would break any lesser man. He even maintained a reserve of slack time to account for delays, new projects, or personal work. It was the kind of strategy that allowed him to take on Ashley Stillons' case without compromising his other duties.
That was another area suffering in the aftermath of the summit. A relationship that was still in a critical stage dealt a blow that could have been crippling. He had managed the damage, but it was a setback. It would take time to regain trust, time he could have devoted to other areas. All the organizational and multitasking skills in the world could only be taken so far.
His phone rang, drawing his attention to the particular caller. Empire business, Krieg's line. Secure and deniable cellular communication between members of the Empire was another thing he facilitated, one more point of advantage that he brought to the entire organization. And, as usual, the advantageous nature was quickly overlooked, becoming a normal and expected element of the gang's operation, rather than acknowledged as the strategic advantage it represented.
He connected the call, leaving it on speaker phone to continue data analysis work during the discussion. Lifetimes of specialized skills allowed perfect division of his focus without the slightest loss of performance.
"Hello." He said, acknowledging the call as he simultaneously reviewed Medhall financial reports and recent PRT dispatch plans that had been liberated by cooperative agents within the organization's ranks.
"Victor." He heard Krieg's reply. The cape name meant it was a call on Empire business, not one for any of the dozen other roles Victor filled. In addition to being an active cape, he played spymaster, executive, research lead, quartermaster, fence, money launderer, and a number of other smaller roles, each with their own identity or specific front. It was generally easier to think of himself as Victor the cape first, with everything else entertained as a mask. Even his distant first identity had been altered slightly when he entered the orbit of the Clans, and altered again upon his triggering and marriage. Victor first, it was both who and what he was.
"I wanted to thank you for your assessment of Kaiser's plans for our operations against the Teeth." He said politely. He was always polite and always made sure to at least acknowledge Victor's contributions. Kaiser's plans had been little more than a general statement of intent and some proposed staging areas. Victor was able to expand that out to a full combat doctrine and engagement strategy.
It wasn't a personal slight against Victor so much as an aspect of Kaiser's leadership style. The accomplishments of his subordinates were his accomplishments, just as his victories were victories for the entire organization. Kaiser didn't draw divisions between himself and the Empire as a whole. In a way it was similar to how Lung had acted as the linchpin for the ABB, and there was no question that Kaiser's absence for any reason would drastically weaken the Empire, if not shatter it entirely.
Which, of course, was Kaiser's intention.
"I am happy to be of assistance." He said with deference. Any other time he might have pushed harder for recognition on the matter, but he was still in a precarious position.
Krieg recognized the meaning of his tone immediately. "I have spoken with the other lieutenants on your behalf. Most are sympathetic to your position, but it will take time for the situation to resolve itself."
Victor knew he could do a better job of helping to resolve things, but that would require him to actually be able to interact with the other members of the Empire, or at least speak with them. That was something that would prove a significant challenge for quite some time.
Hookwolf in particular would be an issue. The man respected Victor's skills as both a fighter and a combat instructor, but he held a particular and often contradictory sense of honor. He had no problem beating someone into a broken, crippled mess or horrifically mutilating his opponents, but somehow he found the type of damage Victor could cause to be a step too far. Advocating for 'mercy killings' of ABB members that had been captured, drained and broken by Victor's power rather than leaving them in a diminished state.
It was fear. Normally, for parahumans, being feared was a good thing, but that assumed you could either leverage that fear to your advantage or act on what they were afraid of. Hookwolf had a devotion to the Empire that was middling at best. He enjoyed the power, freedom, and prestige his position granted him, but didn't seriously share any of their ideals. It was more than he was happy to direct his brutality towards specific targets and could just as easily have fallen in with any other group. No, Hookwolf valued strength. Unleashing his strength and coming up short was an element of any conflict, something that he could accept. It was being deprived of that strength, and in a way that he couldn't fight against, that terrified the man.
And now it was confirmed he had been subjected to Victor's power every time they interacted. Assurances of the minor and temporary effect of such exposure was unlikely to sway him. Not when images of veteran ABB members reduced to sniveling wrecks after being drained of their combat skills, pain tolerance, emotional maturity, and coping strategies lived in his head.
"I appreciate your assistance, and understand that this will take some time to resolve." He said, knowing it would probably take more time than they had, given the developing situation. "And, once again, my apologies for provoking this response."
He hated apologizing, but it was a necessary courtesy, particularly in his current situation. He had done nothing wrong but was being held up as the instigator of Apeiron's wrath, like he intentionally besmirched the Empire.
"There was no way something like this could have been predicted." Krieg replied. "The appearance of the Celestial Forge was an intentionally disruptive tactic. You served as an excuse to debut an unprecedented ability and cow the other factions. We couldn't have seen the trap, and one can hardly fault Apeiron for springing it at the most opportune moment."
Not fault Apeiron, but clearly they could fault him. He had investigated, looking for the possibility of data leaks. None were found, but it was possible with Survey's demonstrated capabilities that the Empire's plans had been compromised, allowing Apeiron to arrange events to his favor. While being the subject of a deliberate ploy rather than random chance might take the sting off his situation, it wasn't likely. All signs pointed to Apeiron simply seizing an opportunity that presented itself. Survey was still a threat, but she was a threat best kept in reserve, like most of the Celestial Forge. Resources that Apeiron could call upon should anyone decide to press him. Confrontation would be met not just with overwhelming power, but with all your secrets exposed as a stranger you couldn't even think about tore you apart from within.
Victor's eyes jumped around the office to the various printouts of information on Lethe, standing as the only way to resist her power. They included information on her capabilities and instructions for how to issue warnings if the woman's power was active, something helpfully copied from the Protectorate's own countermeasures.
They were also the reason Clara had been avoiding his office. She generally allowed him to work in peace, with trust that he would always make time for her and hold his commitments, but the encounter at Somer's Rock had shaken her. Having a tinker tech sword held to her throat followed by the stress of the summit and Victor's trial in absentia hadn't helped the situation. They had both been threatened during that encounter, but Victor had more than enough skills to stare down death without flinching. Othala lacked that advantage.
At least it hadn't been totally fruitless, even if it had cost both him and the Empire dearly. Those concessions were going to be held against him personally, providing another justification for capes who were already prone to be ill disposed to him. He was fortunate that the upper levels at least understood the true scale of the value he brought to the organization, even if they weren't keen to promote that fact.
"Apeiron's reclusiveness leads many people to underestimate him." Victor replied. "He limits the scope of his actions, but ensures that each one carries significant weight."
"And happily leaves others to carry that burden." Krieg said with an air of understanding. "Though with respect to the Butcher, I believe we are all grateful for Apeiron's reserved nature."
Victor had to nod at that. A potential disaster had been averted after Apeiron had been far too cavalier about his willingness to risk possession. Plenty of other capes had been confident, only to end up nothing more than a roman numeral and a footnote in the Butcher's personal history.
"Based on Apeiron's accusations, it is likely that the Butcher is operating with an ulterior motive." Victor reported. "Even in the absence of the Celestial Forge, the Teeth wouldn't make a move like this." With a few clicks he brought up his analysis of the situation. "Cells have been called up from other cities where the main branch could have relocated. As was raised at the meeting, there are cities where they could have established themselves that are not currently subject to a gang war and reconstruction effort."
"What about the possibility of a return to form?" James asked. "The Teeth have been nomadic since they were driven from the city. This could be seen as a chance to end that, establish a permanent beachhead."
Krieg had been an active member of the Empire back when the Teeth were still a major presence in the city. It was the kind of perspective that could taint his opinion as much as it could provide insight to his opponent. "I've considered that." Victor explained. "But there are better options. Pride and nostalgia could have led to them wanting to reclaim their position in Brockton Bay, but their claim on ABB holdings was an extreme gamble. Once it was rejected they had no reason to press their case."
He heard the man sigh. "Meaning there's another reason that's keeping them in the city." He grumbled. "Which also means they won't be dislodged by a token show of resistance. Depending on the value of their prize, they could end up fighting to the bitter end."
Victor registered the unspoken question. "I acquired as much expertise in power dynamics as possible in preparation for my tutelage of Ashley Stillons. Unfortunately, it is of limited assistance in this matter. Parahuman studies remains a highly theoretical field, with almost no proven concepts and multiple exceptions for nearly every theory."
"I understand." He replied. "It would be helpful to at least understand the scale of what was being attempted, but I doubt anyone but Apeiron holds that type of insight. Particularly given the theories of the Protectorate on the matter."
Victor smiled. Information brokering was one of his more obscure skill sets, but one vital to the Empire's success. Some thinkers could divine secrets through prognostication, or by reading the meaning of a person's facial twitches, though Victor had skills in cold reading and understood how significantly that kind of detection method would need to be supplemented by other effects. Some people secured information through hacking, or mastering stooges to provide leaks. All of them seriously underestimated the utility of just paying someone to share the information with you.
It was a delicate art, and one that required careful balance. In order to have a stable relationship and maintain the flow of information what was leaked had to be carefully moderated. It was why the activity needed to be insulated from people like Kaiser, who lived or died based on their image. People inclined to push too hard and secure meaningless victories, damaging future relationships for the sake of a momentary ego boost. To have a stable source of inside information you either needed trust or leverage, and leverage always ran out.
Really, anything classified level-three or lower would find its way onto the information market eventually. The secret was deniability and discretion. A steady source of confidential information was worth more than a major leak that would be traced and plugged. In addition to burning a source, it would sour future contacts from working with you.
It also required trust on the part of those receiving the information. Ideally, nothing should ever be revealed, merely acted upon in a deniable fashion. It was important to allow people to at least maintain the image of information security.
To a certain extent, the Protectorate and PRT were aware of the leaks. Two people can keep a secret as long as one of them is dead, and it took far more than two people to run organizations of their size. Honestly, he had run into 'leaks' that seemed almost intentional. Things that couldn't be released to the public, but were vitally important for major parahuman groups to be aware of. Well, unless you were the Brockton PRT, in which case you leaked like a sieve while the director worked to ensure only the most superficial impression of information security, usually to the detriment of her own staff and heroes.
Meetings on Apeiron and the Celestial Forge had been held at the highest level all across the country. It would be impossible to fully contain the contents of those meetings. The critical situation roster wasn't composed of green capes, but they didn't all have the level of professionalism the organization prided itself on. Information got out, and the network of secret traders made sure it found its way to the right people.
"It was already a common theory that Apeiron was a power tinker, though the confidence the Protectorate assigns to that assumption lends it additional weight." Victor explained. "Even so, there is no precedent for a cluster of the size they are suggesting." It hinted at what could have been discussed in the portions of those meetings that weren't shared. Things Victor knew better than to pursue for himself. A cluster of that size was concerning for a number of reasons, not the least of which being what he'd learned about Lethe.
"If the Protectorate has adopted this stance then they have a reason for doing so." Krieg stated. "The theory does explain the range of powers present and why that group seems to be predominantly inward focused, which is a point in our advantage."
"All indications suggest that Apeiron intends to hold to his established stance, though it is not clear what it will take to provoke a response from him or his team." Victor said. "The team presents additional uncertainty, making any predictions difficult."
"As was no doubt his intention." Krieg said. "Still, leaving the city's powers to fight amongst themselves is preferable to him just appointing a successor to the ABB, or taking the position himself."
It was a small favor, but that was all they had to work with at the moment. The Empire was relying on people like him to chart a path through this, all while cursing his existence at every opportunity.
"I have assembled some plans for actions that might provoke conflict between the other factions of the city, either before or after the situation with the Teeth is addressed." Victor offered. "Though I would advise caution until more is known concerning Survey's scanning capability." His current situation was a testament to the importance of that point.
"It is a complicated situation. Action before the Teeth are driven off could lead to a disaster sufficient for Apeiron to take action, while a delay could see factions united against us." Krieg explained.
"Have there been any developments?" Victor asked. It was more than likely. Ideally, all information should come to him as soon as it was available, but Krieg liked to discuss implications and first impressions with him, rather than just sending raw data. The call itself meant it was probably that something of interest had occurred.
"I have confirmed that the Travelers are not seeking employment, not even contract or bounty work. It's a significant breach of their usual pattern. Of the current players either Coil or Uppercrust have the resources and connections to hire them on."
"Coil is more likely." Victor said with a frown. The free passage the man had claimed through their territory was a logistical and security nightmare, a near perfect setup for either dragging the Empire into an unwanted conflict, or launching a surprise attack in the heart of their operations. Another black mark that was being leveraged against him. "He's played the long game so far, but we should be on guard in case he's planning to take more overt action. Beyond that, the Merchants' expansion and recruitment program are our primary concern."
"I have an update there as well." Krieg said. "I'm transferring the files now, but one of our plants in the Merchants observed a meeting between Skidmark and Blasto."
"An amicable meeting?" Victor asked, even as he began skimming through the provided reports and photos. If he'd been on site he could have arranged better surveillance. The meeting was held atop an abandoned building, with a crosswind muffling sound. That could have been addressed with a laser microphone or a telephoto recording and lip reading, but it seemed he would need to make do with what Krieg had been able to organize.
The Merchants were so easy to infiltrate it was barely worthwhile. Honestly, their spies probably had a better understanding of what was happening than the drug-addled leadership of the gang. Historically, the Merchants had been more useful as a thorn in the ABB's side and a distraction for the Protectorate. With the ABB gone and the Protectorate in disarray it would be a natural time for the Empire to stamp them out and assume full control of the city. Of course, nothing was ever that simple, and complications had let the Merchants grow and fester, with the Empire being limited to monitoring the situation.
"We can at least say it was not hostile." Krieg explained. "Members of Lost Garden have been fraternizing at Merchant events, both generally and with a specific interaction between two of their capes. It's likely Blasto was acting to head off any conflicts between the groups."
"That is unfortunate." Blasto didn't have much of a reputation as a negotiator, but did understand gang dynamics from his time in Boston. If the Merchants and Lost Garden were mixing it would have been simplicity itself to engineer some incident that would put the groups at odds with each other. An overdose, assault, or encouraging the careless use of one of their powers. It might still be possible, despite whatever deal had been hammered out, but an open line of communication meant any action was likely to lead to an investigation and reasoned response, rather than the escalating series of conflicts Victor would hope for.
"At the very least, I doubt we need to worry about a united front. Blasto came with a show of force that went beyond the capes under his control." Another set of pictures arrived and Victor quickly worked through them.
On the surface it looked like a joke. Blasto was in a costume that seemed more like a white pimp coat than any kind of serious work of tinkering. The fact that he was accompanied by two creatures that looked like monstrously oversized Bedlington Terriers didn't help matters. It was the closeups shots and details of subsequent pictures that made it clear what Victor was looking at.
Between shots the fibers of Blasto's coat would rearrange themselves, weaving into spikes, blades, or armored plates. It was a kind of living costume, one that exceeded any of the works the biotinker had demonstrated to date. Perhaps not in scale, the Woad Giant still held that title, but there was a dexterity and power that set it apart. Blasto had reached the rooftop by climbing the exterior of the building along with his creatures, and doing so at surprising speed. Photos of rents in the concrete of the exterior wall were included with the rest of the images.
It seemed Blasto had decided the situation in Brockton Bay warranted a deviation from his usual strategies. After years of operating through autonomous creatures, Blasto had finally made his own unique attempt at power armor. The fact that it looked like a suit of moldy bread didn't mean much when weighed against the power and utility on display, or the fact that he was also deploying new creatures based on the technology.
"We should continue to monitor the situation. Take what steps we can to prevent them from forming a fully united front, but only if we have complete deniability for the matter." He suggested.
"Agreed." Krieg said. "I'll leave this in your hands."
"Thank you." An additional set of analysis for the pile. In the back of his mind Victor began shuffling his schedule around to make room for it. His personal project would suffer, but that wasn't time sensitive. He could wait. "Is there anything else?"
"I have also spoken with Ashley Stillons." Krieg said. "I believe you have made a good impression, as, following the incident, she is considerably less hostile than I would have expected."
"Thank you. I am continuing contact and instruction remotely, and I believe we are making excellent progress, even considering this setback." He reported.
"Victor, I cannot overemphasize the importance of Damsel of Distress to our organization. Her actions during the summit were overly forward, but they were well timed and provided a means to head off direct bloodshed." It wasn't stated as an accusation, but Krieg wasn't sugar coating how badly things could have gone if Apeiron had been less accommodating and chosen a bloodbath over an accord. "She is the sole cape in our ranks who Apeiron acknowledged as a potential threat. With the Merchant's recruitment of Scrub, we cannot afford to lose that advantage." Krieg continued.
Given what had been revealed about the new Merchant cape, it was generous to describe the Empire as having an advantage. Putting a freshly triggered cape on the same level as Damsel of Distress was a contentious move, but the more that was revealed about Scrub's powers the more concerning they became. A nuker class blaster capable of matter annihilation with no evidence of a Manton limit was concerning enough without getting into the actual effects of his blasts.
Victor had personally investigated the site of the boy's trigger. A point where the Merchants had been outmaneuvered and penned in by March's coordination and combinations of Bakuda's bomb effects. Fertile ground for a nuker-class trigger. Being able to destroy people and objects with a wave of your hand was impressive, but the impact on the bomb effects told a bigger story. Scrub's blasts had torn through force walls, gravity wells, and even removed a section of the frozen space of a time-stop bomb, splitting the objects and people trapped within.
The boy had been more reserved with the use of his power since his trigger, but the evidence was clear. If there was anything that could stop Scrub's blasts, it had yet to be found, and the Merchants were happily parading him around like a strategic weapon. He almost wondered if the Lost Garden shaker latching on to him had been part of some scheme on Blasto or Barrow's part, but given everything he knew about Lost Garden that was giving them too much credit.
"Rune has been staying with her in my absence, and I believe they are getting along quite well." Well, at least they were in Damsel's opinion, which was the only one that counted at the moment. His cousin-by-marriage could pout as much as she wanted, as long as Ashley was treating her like an adopted little sister she wasn't wreaking havoc with her powers or intruding further into Empire politics. "And I will follow up with her after this call, ensure that she is comfortable."
"In that case I won't delay you further." Krieg answered. "I know you have taken on a great deal recently, and are doing so under the unearned condemnation of your peers. Please know that you have my support, and the support of Kaiser in this and all future matters."
"Thank you sir." He replied before the call ended. It was a nice sentiment, but one unlikely to materialize into anything meaningful. Kaiser needed to save face after the concessions he'd agreed to, concessions that could have specifically been avoided at the cost of Victor's life. Kaiser knew the full scope of the value that Victor brought to the Empire, but it wasn't something he would be inclined to admit publicly. Instead, he would field complaints with grace while subtly implicating Victor as the guilty party, leaving him the long road of redemption within the group.
That was one of the downsides of near perfect assessment skills. A full understanding of exactly how bad your situation was, and what would be required to correct it. Technically, it was better than ignorance and hopelessness, but if you had to crawl through a mile of broken glass to reach salvation, was there really any value in knowing the precise location and sharpness of every shard in your path?
No, he did have a less painful route that would take him back to prominence. It would just chain him to the service of Ashley Stillons. The woman may have been starved, sleep deprived, and half-mad, but she was no fool. Given her skepticism over the promises levied towards her regarding her station within the Empire it was safe to say she was considerably less of one than Purity. Kayden might have been able to bring Damsel of Distress over to their side, but the woman wasn't sitting idle in a pampered penthouse waiting for things to align in her favor. Or, in Kayden's case, waiting for the reins of the Empire to be laid at her feet.
Stepping in when she did, the way she did, it took back the thunder of her debut. Her announcement was going to be a power move on Kaiser's part, but she had shifted it to an act of her own agency. The story had circulated to predictable effect. Members of the Empire who would have been justifiably concerned about bringing on a cape with her history of destructive instability were warming to her, seeing her as a savior, rather than a liability. By forcing Kaiser's hand, she secured at least the perception that she stood equal to Purity, Krieg, and Hookwolf as one of Kaiser's direct lieutenants.
And Apeiron had acknowledged her.
It was a subtle thing, but it was enough, and everyone there recognized it. Lethe had stood down, an action clearly taken by choice rather than necessity. Damsel had been watched by the members of the Celestial Forge. There wasn't fear or any real concern for their safety, but out of all of the members of the Empire, she was the only one given any degree of notice.
Kaiser's gamble had paid off, but mainly served to show how badly they misread the odds before placing their bet. There were no jackpots in play, and the lucky strike merely kept them from a major and possibly irrecoverable loss.
Worst of all, she was fully aware of the role she had played, how it affected her image both in the Empire and with the other powers of the city. For the moment she was willing to bask in that glory, but that wouldn't hold. When the Empire went to war, the Damsel of Distress would push to lead the charge. Sending that woman against the Teeth… it wasn't as bad as a hypothetical Butcher Apeiron, but few things were. The woman was unstable enough without a dozen mad ghosts in her brain.
Their only hope was placation and distraction, something that, like most matters, Victor was well equipped to handle. And a big part of that was ensuring that she didn't have excessive amounts of time to herself where she could come up with ideas or initiatives that ran counter to the Empire's objectives.
Victor made a few slight alterations to his appearance. He lacked whatever shaker or stranger power automatically handled such details for Apeiron, but he had the skill to make do. Once again, peak human mastery brought low by the most minor of parahuman abilities. He would never be able to capture that effortless grace and aesthetic perfection, but no one could, not without the laws of nature rewriting themselves in your favor.
Preparations complete he aligned himself with his webcam and placed a secure call to Ashley Stillons' penthouse. It was quickly answered, displaying a white-haired woman lounging on her couch. She was wearing one of her new designer dresses, this one in deep navy with a pattern of metal studs, but twirled the peaked cap of her new costume in one hand.
"Victor! So good to hear from you." She said with a wicked smile. "I must admit to missing your company. It had become such a comforting presence. Not that your cousin's companionship is in any way unpleasant, of course."
"Of course." He replied respectfully, earning a slightly wider smile from the woman.
"Tammi." She called to the side. "Come say hello."
To her credit, Rune did an excellent job of masking her frustration with the situation as she made her way into frame. It looked like she was hoping to get away with a brief statement, but Damsel uncurled herself and gestured for the girl to sit next to her. Rune quickly did so while making a point not to track the movements of the villain's hands.
"Hello Victor." She said in an icy tone. "It's good to speak with you. At last."
"I am afraid I have been quite pressed with Empire business. And, of course, the unpleasantness at Somer's Rock has introduced additional complications." He explained calmly.
"Yes, such a shame." Ashley said with a slight tisk to her voice. A comedic, overplayed scolding. She was enjoying herself very much. He recognized that feeling. The hunger, the quest for power and validation, and the need to maintain it once you had it, to avoid a loss, even the appearance of one. "Still, one cannot fault our fellow capes for their reactions."
It was tempting, and an easy trap to fall into. It also made her predictable, though in this case it was similar to his previous metaphor. Predicting a hardship didn't make it any less unpleasant to deal with.
"Still, it poses an obstacle for my assigned duties. I must apologize for that." He replied.
She brushed her hand to the side. "Think nothing of it. I of course value your company and tutelage, but conventions must be observed. While I'm sure you are completely accurate in the description of your abilities, it wouldn't do to disregard caution until such claims are verified. That could be seen as an insult to my fellow officers."
She smiled again, casually putting herself a level beyond him while contextualizing his role. Reframing the guidance he provided while leading her through custom training and a mental discipline program from that of a respected teacher to a hired tutor.
She was playing on rank, both for her own enjoyment and to see how he would react. The correct answer was not to. Allow her to play this out, then move on. Only the dynamics of the Empire wouldn't allow him to. Even after evaluations proved minor damage from his power could repair itself, that wouldn't convince Hookwolf. Purity would make some generic statements, but continue to regard him with caution. Krieg didn't have or even seek the kind of influence that could change the attitudes of the gang, attitudes that would trickle down from the lieutenants to taint the entire organization against him.
The Empire, something he helped build, that he saw grow from a collection of street thugs to a legitimate presence in the world of business, finance, and even politics, now ready to cast him aside while depriving him the right to even defend himself. And his only true ally was a madwoman who saw equal entertainment value in leaving him hanging at her mercy as having him owe complete fealty.
"I understand. We must, of course, take whatever action is necessary to secure your position." He said, with expertly masked insincerity.
"I appreciate your concern, but I believe I am quite comfortable and secure." Next to her Rune did a poor job of masking a shudder. "I assure you, as soon as the evaluation verifies your statements, which I'm certain it will, I will be happy to welcome you back. Until then, Tammi and I will make do on our own."
There was a desperate look in his cousin's eyes. One that was crossing the threshold between entertaining annoyance and the risk of some unfortunate independent action. Jokes could only be pushed so far, after all, and the situation was too serious to turn into a farce.
"While I'm sure you can manage, perhaps an outing would do you some good?" He offered. "One of Clara's favorite boutiques is reopening, and they offer private and quite discreet service. I could arrange a morning appointment for the three of you?"
It would be an expense, but one well within the budget allotted to Ashely's management. He watched as the woman made an exaggerated show of considering the offer.
"What is the name of the store?" She asked.
"Darcy's, on the south boardwalk." Ashley gestured to Rune who scrambled to grab a tablet. The girl unlocked it, then typed in something, presumably a search or navigating to the website. When she handed Damsel the tablet Victor could catch a glimpse of the boutique's high-end apparel.
"Yes, I believe this will do." She said, not looking up as she flicked through the site. "Shall we say ten thirty, and lunch to follow?"
"I will make the arrangements." He replied. Ashley Stillons was a well-known cape, but not one to be recognized on sight. Particularly with sunglasses, the right hat, and her hair up.
He would need to send the instructions for the hair styling to Rune. She wouldn't like it, but she was hardly in a position to complain.
Ashley rested the nail of her index finger on her chin. "I do hope this won't distract from the upcoming offensive against the Teeth." She clenched and unclenched her hands. "After missing out on all the fun of Thursday evening, I am quite looking forward to making a proper appearance." To her credit, Rune managed to stop herself from edging away from the woman. Victor put on the best of his best smiles as he responded.
"I'm afraid the offensive is still in the planning and reconnaissance stages. A significant campaign is being prepared and I assure you, all available forces will be deployed." He said.
"Yes." She said, smiling back as she leaned forward slightly in her seat. "We will need to discuss my role in the coming actions, and how to best utilize support forces." She flopped back onto the couch. "Something to discuss tomorrow, when we meet with your wife for that little shopping date."
Considering the prices of that boutique, Victor wouldn't exactly classify it as a 'little' date. Still, it was one of the first significant luxury locations to reopen, and should prove a much-needed distraction. Though apparently not enough of a distraction to keep her from further binding the three of them into roles as her direct subordinates.
"Of course." He said quickly. "Now, if I might inquire, how is your own training progressing?"
"Adequately." She said dismissively. At his prodding gaze she elaborated. "I will admit, the focusing and meditation practice has some utility, particularly with how you explained it. Tammi has been adamant about maintaining my schedule in your absence. Such a considerate friend to have."
More likely she was desperate to head off any violent expressions of Ashley's power when she would be in the blast radius. Still, as long as it was working.
"That's excellent to hear. We can discuss possible refinements, and any other matters on your mind, when we are able to meet in person." He said.
"Oh, I look forward to it." She said before disconnecting the call. Victor was left in the silence of his office. Data still danced on the screens, automatic analytic programs, news feeds, and customized searches. So much work to do, an army of effort coming from a single person.
He would come back to it. Carefully managed sleep schedules, time management, multitasking, he had the skills he needed. Right now, he needed to inform his wife of what he had committed her to.
Marriage skills were another thing he had collected, and another aspect that could benefit from innumerable nuances in technique and approach. Almost everyone who had been in a marriage had some trick of understanding, or observation skill, or some other subtle approach that made their marriage just a little bit easier. Victor was able to collect those. Sometimes it was like panning for gold in a desert, but there was always something, and his skill had grown from it, allowing him to turn an arranged marriage with a girl he barely knew into a happy partnership.
Though not what he was expecting. Not the life he had imagined with Lena. Clara's cousin, his first fiancée, before he had lost her. It wasn't something he dwelled on. He could cope with grief, move on with his life, compartmentalize emotions, and address past connections. The majority of those skills had been aggressively collected after Lena's death, but they had served him well. Or at least served him well enough to start again.
And Clara loved him. At times that made things harder, rather than easier. She had loved him from the moment she triggered, when he had saved her from an attack on the Clan's annual moot. It was before he had his powers, which was why he'd been able to act. The trigger knocking out the attacking capes along with the Herren Clan's own parahumans had left the stage open for him to swoop in. He hadn't been trying to become her knight in shining armor. If anything, he had hoped the act might distinguish him, help him earn his place.
That hadn't come until later, after his own trigger, but Clara never forgot how he came to her rescue. Even when he met Lena, even when their engagement was announced. She stood by, quietly pining and hoping nobody would notice. After Lena's death, when they changed the arranged marriage, she had been consumed with both joy and guilt. The kind of disastrous stew of emotions that destroys relationships before they have a chance to begin.
He hadn't let things stay that way. Communication, reassurance, honesty and support. He had the skills for all of them. Anything the marriage needed; he could provide. Had provided. It gave them enough of a foundation to try to build something real, beyond their assigned pairing or cape identities.
He sent a few quick emails securing the appointments for the next day. It would have been easier and less expensive if Ashley had allowed him to schedule things, but sufficient money and connections could see her arbitrary request filled, no matter what other commitments were present. With that matter addressed, Victor stood up and suddenly felt the stiffness in his body. Hours of highly focused work conducted with a level of blind focus that stood at the limit of human endurance caught up to him in a second, and reminded him of the unfortunate nature of his own limitations.
When comparing himself against the physical impossibility of other capes, he obviously fell short. But he also had to accept the fact that he was going to continue to fall shorter and shorter as time went on. A precise regime of training, conditioning and diet had taken his body to its absolute limit, but a person could only function at their peak level for so long. Even with Clara granting regeneration to see off any lingering injuries or accumulated wear, he was on a time limit, and well aware of the fact.
He had already secured any improvement that could be easily gained. At this point it was a matter of balance. Strength against agility, or flexibility, or endurance. Pushing one higher would cause a greater loss in another area.
And then there was the maintenance. Even the best training in the world took time, and he had enough commitments pressing on that resource that there was precious little room to spare. Even if he was free of all other burdens, allowed to freely train, bring himself to the absolute peak imaginable, he would still see a gradual loss. Not a sharp one, but it would come. Once he entered his mid-twenties it would become noticeable, and would start presenting real challenges as the years accumulated from there. Most capes would be happy to maintain the level of physicality he achieved, but most capes had something to fall back on beyond their physical skills.
As he moved from the office he noted every twinge and tight muscle, cataloging them for attention during his next workout. They would be stretched, rolled, and exercised back into peak performance, ready for the next time aggressive demands on his time would cause the same tension to accumulate.
He descended from the second floor to find Othala in the kitchen. The smell of roast chicken filled the room and she turned nervously to face him as he entered.
"Oh, sorry. I was hoping to have dinner ready for when you took a break." She said, running her hands over her apron. The confidence he had taught her to display when in her black and red costume failed to translate when she was garbed in kitchenware babbling about cooking. "It will still be about twenty minutes. Um, It's just herb chicken. I mean, I know you can do better, but I wanted to help."
Clara's concern over her own skills was one of the more difficult aspects of their marriage. It was hard to reassure someone when the gulf was that wide. The truth was she was a proficient cook and he did appreciate it when she was able to handle dinner during busy times. However, she didn't have the accumulated skills of dozens of master chefs supplemented by uncountable tricks and talents for kitchen work. There was a barrier that they couldn't overcome, only sidestep.
"I'm sure it will be delicious." He assured her. "Thank you for handling dinner." He leaned against the counter and smiled at his wife. "And have you heard?" He asked as Clara raised an eyebrow. "Darcy's is opening tomorrow."
A slight smile crossed her face. "That's nice. Maybe I'll stop by, once things settle down. I'm sure there'll be occasions for it, after everything is dealt with."
"Maybe, but you can also go tomorrow." She gave him a confused look. "Shopping date with Ashely and Rune." His wife's enthusiasm faltered slightly at that news.
"It's a distraction." She said, "We're a distraction, keeping her from critical operations."
"You are, but you also have a full expense account and a lunch reservation for the private dining room at Chien Noir." He said. "Tammi will help manage Ashley. Nobody is mobilizing yet, so we just need to keep her in reserve until the Empire is ready to deploy. A spending spree will do all of you a lot of good."
She gave a slight nod. "You're right. I just…"
"What?" He asked.
"It's silly." She said, He moved in and raised a hand gently to her face.
"Tell me?" He said.
She took a breath. "I wish you asked me first. I mean, I know you couldn't, not when you were dealing with HER, but it would have been nice."
"You're right. I should have. I shouldn't have phrased this like it's a treat for you. This is work, important work for the future of the Empire. I'm sorry for putting this on you, and sorry that I couldn't ask first." She nodded and he smiled, trailing his hand down her chin.
"I'm waiting for some more reports to come in. I'll be in the workshop until dinner's ready. Is there anything I can help with?" He asked.
"No, take the time for yourself. Though…" She glanced away.
"Clara?" He asked.
"You're working on something new in there?" She asked. "Something important? I know when you get this way, but if you don't want to tell me…"
"I'm always happy to tell you. I just didn't want to worry you." He said with a careful inflection to his words. "Come on, I'll show you."
"It's important?" She asked, following him towards the basement workshop.
"Very much so." He replied. It was almost freeing, finally being able to reveal this to someone.
The main area of the basement was the typical collection of utilities and overflow storage you would find in any suburban home, but one wall sported a security door with a keypad lock. He entered the code and opened the door to his workshop.
Not a tinker's workshop, even if he was the closest thing the Empire had. Inside were racks upon racks of precision tools, materials, equipment, and chemicals. It wasn't outfitted for every form of crafting he was capable of, but it covered enough of them to suit his needs. Firearm modifications were a major focus, with his customized rifles mounted to one side. Both the normal models and the ones that couldn't be fired without Othala granting him strength or durability.
Other sections held their workstations, all in support of the Empire's cause. Everything from chemical mixes to sewing stations. Whenever the fruit of his genius was needed, this is where it was born.
Only now it was changed, repurposed for his new and most important project. Clara stood stunned as she looked around.
"What's all this?" She asked, her eyes tracing the carefully outlined designs. "Where did it come from?"
Victor gave her a serious look. "It came from Lethe."
Immediately he could see the spike of fear in her eyes. "What do you mean?" She frantically glanced around, as if it would be possible to spot a memory-based stranger if she were in the room with them. "What came from Lethe."
He raised a hand to calm her, then moved to explain. "You remember when I was telling you about the Protectorate's theory? That the Celestial Forge was a cluster?"
"I remember." She said, "They all have some stranger power, and probably some tinker, right?"
Victor nodded. "Clusters are complicated. You don't get the exact same power in each member, only variations on a theme, and I think I found Lethe's variation of Apeiron's power." She was still stunned and near panicked, so he led her towards a map of the city mounted on the wall. A blue circle was drawn around a large section of the docks.
"The fires from last Tuesday night? When Lung went on his rampage?" He gestured to the interior of the circle and she nodded to him. "They were extinguished by some unknown effect. Visible electric discharge, which is how the Protectorate let people attribute it to Dauntless, but that wasn't what happened."
"So, what did happen?" She asked. "And what does it have to do with all this?"
"Everyone's been trying to understand what that effect was." He continued. "Even with everything else that's been happening, it stood out. Not everyone keyed to it, but certain thinkers, they could tell something was going on, something important. Every scan of the effect and its aftermath has been analyzed, every theory assessed, every picture and frame footage picked over a hundred times, but nobody could find the answer. It was obvious Apeiron was involved, but nobody could tell what he did."
"But you can?" She asked cautiously.
"I can." He said. "Because it wasn't Apeiron. It was Lethe."
Clara's eyes jumped from him to the map on the wall, then back again. "Lethe? You mean she used some of Apeiron's technology, right? Snuck it into place?"
"No." he said, shaking his head. "This was Lethe's work, because she can do more than hide from people's memories. Lethe has a secondary power. Probably more than one, if the cluster theory is true." He smiled. "Early theories had Apeiron as a tinker specialized in matter alteration. They weren't incorrect, they just had the wrong member of his team."
"Lethe's a matter tinker? She can affect an area that big, extinguish a fire like that, and nobody can see her?" Clara's voice quivered slightly as she spoke.
"She can, because she's not just a tinker. She's a shaker." He took a breath before continuing. "And a trump."
His wife's eyes widened and he saw her make the connections. "What did you do? What did you get from her?" Her voice carried fear and excitement in unequal measures.
"Almost nothing, but enough." He replied. She clearly didn't appreciate the quippy answer, so he continued. "Every member of that team had some level of resistance to my power. Some were fully immune, like there was either nothing there or it didn't make sense. With Kataklyzein it was like he was fighting me for every scrap. Apeiron was like trying to reach through a wall, and half the time he just vanished. Lethe was shielded, like Apeiron, but not as much." He said. "I could connect."
"And you got something?" She asked.
"A little bit." He explained. "Lethe, she knows so much about material structure that I could barely believe it." There was a hungry reverence in his voice when he spoke. "But there was something more. She knew how to alter materials directly, reshape them from one form to another." He gestured to the map. "That is what happened on Tuesday night. I just got a glimpse, but it was enough to put it together." He swallowed. "And to duplicate it."
Clara gave him a confused look. "What are you… I don't know what you mean."
"Here," he said. He led her to a workbench. She watched as he placed a small piece of bar stock in the center of a geometric pattern. Taking a calming breath and drawing on countless lifetimes of skills and focusing techniques, he directed his attention to the circle.
Comprehension. Deconstruction. Reconstruction. That particular feeling as power was channeled from the earth into the precise arrangements of the circle, then used to break down the structure of the metal. Steel rearranged itself, shifting from a flat block into a rough sculpture of a woman. Of his wife.
The surface was flakey, but the effect was undeniable, and improving. Only his knowledge of chemistry and engineering could have brought someone so far in such a short amount of time.
"I don't understand." Clara said. She flinched as he picked up the figure, then gingerly accepted it as he passed it to her. She ran her fingers over the surface as she took in the altered shape.
"Apeiron is almost certainly a power tinker. Naturally, power related abilities would emerge in other members of the cluster." He explained. "Lethe is a trump, capable of transmitting shaker powers through precise instruction or skills. The effect is independent of her. Her power is related to how to use it, and communicate it."
"No." Clara said. "No, if they know you took something, if they know you can do this…"
"I know." He said. "It won't come to that."
"Have you told anyone else?" She asked. "Anyone in the Empire?"
"Not the Empire." He explained. "I'm working with other thinkers who are investigating the effect."
"What?" She barked. "Why would you-"
"It's a safety measure. It is." He repeated, seeing her face. "The effect, it can be discerned, analyzed. People were close, and getting closer every day. Someone was going to solve this. And when they take the credit, they can deal with Apeiron."
"You can't really think you can hide this?" She asked. "Not from Survey, not after what she did."
"Survey can't be everywhere." He said. "These are black channels, encrypted to begin with, and speaking in euphemisms after that. Nothing can definitively trace to any of us. It's a network of dedicated thinkers devoted to concealing their activities. At the very least, we would know if we were observed."
He watched as Othala slowly collected herself. "I don't like it. It's too much of a risk."
"It's power." He said clearly. "Power based on knowledge and understanding, not the nature of your trigger. This is important, and it is something that was going to slip sooner or later."
She pressed into him and he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry, I just worry."
"It's alright. I'm being careful." He promised.
"Please." She said, looking up at him. "Until someone else comes forward, don't let this leave the workshop, and be careful who you talk to."
"I will." He said, cupping her face. "I promise."
"Thank you." She looked around at the collection of calculations and geometric circles. "I'm going to see to dinner." She said, making her way to the basement entrance.
"I'll finish in here, and be right up." He called to her.
Once she left he closed the door. Honestly was important to a healthy marriage, and coming clean later would have been worse. Concealing secrets degrades trust. With this, she was a co-conspirator, willing to support him in his work. That was important.
Here, in his workshop, with what he could do, he felt powerful. Powerful in a way he'd never felt before. Not borrowed power, power claimed for himself. He might not have Lethe's near instinctual understanding of material science, but he had lifetimes of skill in that field, and skill that drove the transformation process.
Skill and understanding, and he had both in spades. To stretch a metaphor, he had both in all four suits, and the wild cards as well. Lethe was a master of material science. He was a master of far more than that, and he was aware of the possibilities before him.
The transformation was already an incredible power. Instant manufacture to a theoretically atomic level of accuracy. His work was rough, but he was improving, drawing on sculpting and machining skills to help contextualize the process. But it was skills beyond that that would set him apart. Because he wasn't just a scientist. He was a doctor, and a biologist.
The windfall of power would have been enough to change his life, his future and his outlook with only the most basic applications, but it was more than that, because he was more than that. Lethe understood the structure of objects. With his acquired education, he understood the structure of life. The precise molecular alignment of bones, organs, cells, organelles, and the genetics that made a person a person. What a human was made of, and what it took to remake them.
The third drawer in the workbench held the picture. A framed photo from his engagement party. His first engagement party. He didn't need to take it out, he remembered it perfectly. Smiling next to Lena, the kind of true smile he rarely showed anymore, untainted by skill, strategy or technique.
He had the skills to manage his grief, to move on and set his past to rest. But he also had the medical knowledge to understand that a person was fundamentally a collection of elements. He had the parahuman knowledge, recently acquired, to understand the theories on how resurrection capes functioned, how Bonesaw accomplished the revival of dead capes, and how Glaistig Uaine summoned her ghosts.
Parahumans could be resurrected. The Butcher's objectives, Apeiron's secret, and even certain details being conspicuously absent from leaked reports made it clear, this was a possibility, and now it was one he could accomplish.
Thirty-five liters of water. Twenty kilograms of carbon. Four liters of ammonia. One and a half kilograms of lime. Eight hundred grams of phosphorus. Two hundred and fifty grams of salt. A hundred grams of saltpeter. Eighty grams of sulfur. Seven and a half grams of fluorine. Five grams of iron. Three grams of silicon. Combined with trace amounts of fifteen other elements and he could make a human body, a living human body.
Lethe might control matter and memory. Apeiron might control powers. Survey information, Fleet speed, and so on for the rest of the titans of the Forge, but Victor had a way to step beyond them. To take their art to a point only someone with his knowledge and skill could. He could control life.
It would take time, effort, more consultations with other thinkers, but he could do it. Death would not be permanent, not to him. Finally, real power, meaningful power, power that didn't have a crippling cost or a series of slow compromises.
Finally, thanks to the art he had gained from Lethe, that he would make his own, he could gain something without losing something of equal value. When the time finally came, the exchange was going to be firmly in his favor.
And yes, I know about the current one, but I'm greedy. More BCF and TV? Yes, please!)
