Decided to write up that omake idea I had for a hypothetical scenario of Joe joining the PRT and having to explain using his budget. Didn't turn out the way I wanted to, necessarily, but it was still enough that I want to post it here. I'll probably write something else in the same vein later on.
Padding the Budget
"Hello, Apeiron," the voice on the other side of the phone greeted Joe. "I'm Mr. Cantor, an accountant with the PRT. I've been assigned to perform the budget review scheduled for today."
"Of course. You're free to examine
every inch of my work. I hope we can establish a mutually beneficial and
close relationship," Joe purred, instantly mentally kicking himself for letting the innuendo slip out.
"Er… R-Right, that is what you agreed to after all," Cantor responded, clearly unbalanced by the suggestive wording. "You also negotiated for the right to keep your base's location a secret, so please inform me of how you intend to bring me there without divulging that information."
Joe facepalmed, having forgotten about that little problem. All he really wanted to do was keep the nature of his personal reality secret for a bit longer, but he hadn't actually thought about how to bring people in.
Of course, being Apeiron, he already had a solution a moment after realizing the problem. "Right, just give me a second. I'll make the teleporter," he told the inspector apologetically, not acknowledging the absurdity of that statement. "Please hold…"
Ten seconds later his smooth voice rang out again, explaining "Sorry 'bout that, took me a bit longer than I thought to walk over to the supplies. I hope you weren't too desperate to see me. Anyways, it's done."
"What?! But how are you going to -
the hell?!"
To his credit, Mr. Cantor didn't react any worse to suddenly finding himself within the infamous tinker's lair than shouting a bit. It was a simple thing, really. Survey traced the call in an instant to give him the coordinates to plug into the brand new teleporter (an embarrassingly dull machine that still looked like the product of a decade's work) and bring them over.
"Sorry, again. Completely forgot to make it before. Anyways, let's get this over with. I don't have enough time as it is, I'd rather not waste any more."
The still stammering inspector was led along by the arm.
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Benjamin Cantor was not having the best day. No one in accounting wanted to deal with seeing just how the world's greatest tinker was using their new exorbitant budget, not when the stuff he made without any support permanently scarred Brockton Bay. Every person with seniority over him had passed the buck down until it reached him, the least important employee that was still qualified for the task in question.
He was a professional, though, so he resolved to approach the job with dignity and unshakeable professionalism. That might have broken down the second Apeiron started speaking, and then crushed into atoms when he was unceremoniously teleported by a device that was apparently made in a matter of seconds, but he needed to pull himself together.
His career would be doomed if anyone got the slightest hint that he didn't perform the highest standard of work possible for Apeiron, after all.
The cape sure wasn't making it easy, though. Everywhere he looked was another wonder that made the masterpieces Armsmaster pranced around in look like the work of a toddler. And Apeiron himself still managed to draw his eyes despite the dazzling surroundings. Every step and sound was clearly made with deliberate intent to exude consummate professionalism with an edge of flirtation… though Benjamin really hoped that last part was just his imagination.
Wait, it was quiet. Shit, he hadn't been paying attention. Now Apeiron was waiting for a reply to a question he hadn't even heard!
Mustering all of his courage, he cleared his throat and asked "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I was asking if you'd like to skip to the creations that the PRT's money actually contributed to," the majestic parahuman repeated graciously, thankfully not offended. "I don't mind if you need to get a holistic view of the place but I'm sure there are more
fun ways to spend our time then going through obsolete projects."
A shiver ran down Benjamin's spine, and not just because of the suggestive edge at the end.
Obsolete! He said this was obsolete! The famous '3 day old tech' claim was true, completely true! And here he had thought he was looking at brand new creations, especially since nothing so far had been seen in the field up to this point.
Clearly he was escalating far quicker than new threats were coming.
"Right… Yes, I'm just here to see how you're using the budget. Tinkertech inspection goes through a different department." Thank god for small mercies. "Let's move on, if you don't mind." So that he could get out of this place even a few moments earlier.
Apeiron nodded. "Alright, we'll cut around the volcano."
For his own sanity, Benjamin elected not to ask what a volcano was doing in here. Not his job.
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"Alright, let's start here," Joe told Mr. Cantor, as he sent Survey a mental request to provide some sort of explanation. He had tasked his clones to use up the budget, since nothing money could buy would be able to match his best work, so he was nearly as clueless as the accountant when it came to what this inspection would uncover.
The only reason he even wanted a budget in the first place was a suspicion that he might get a perk that would increase quality based on money invested into a project. For now, cash was worthless to him. He could turn the metal making up a few dollars worth of change into something worth thousands of dollars with barely a minute of work, after all.
Mentally preparing himself, and still acting as if he knew fully well exactly what they'd be seeing, Joe opened the door.
The two gazed out into what seemed to be a bottomless pit, with a bunch of metal crates suspended. Some were held up by hooks attached to rails on the ceiling, others were floating thanks to the various forms of gravity manipulating tech he had access to. One odd crate was staying afloat through the flapping of metal wings that all of Joe's knowledge perks were telling him shouldn't be capable of doing so.
"Uh… I… What is…?" Mr. Cantor sputtered, trying to voice his thoughts. The whole room was as beautiful as anything else the tinker made, but that didn't make the sight any easier to justify. "Um, that is to say… The point is… Er… What is this room supposed to be?"
That was a very good question which Joe wished he knew the answer to. Survey chimed in through his implant, just to inform him that the clone responsible had popped before they got the chance to put anything beyond the words "crate smashing room" into the database.
Looked like he'd have to bullshit.
"Incredible, isn't it, Mr. Cantor?" he asked rhetorically, stalling for a few moments to think. "This chamber was built to experiment with different methods of distributing resources through the air over long distances." He glanced over to the accountant's face nervously, only to see that the man seemingly… got it? Well, if the lie was working then he'd carry it through to the end.
"Various methods of transportation are tested against each other, and additional tests are done to ensure structural integrity in the event of a collision. I believe that great strides can be made with the logistics of providing assistance in the wake of endbringer attacks and other disasters. And I'm confident that there will be many other ways to utilize this technology."
Mr. Cantor seemed to buy it, but his face shifted to one of confusion a moment later when he inquired "And what was the budget used for in this project?"
Another very good question, one that he didn't know the answer to. "Purchasing the materials. I had to make sure I could build it without anything too advanced, so that it would be possible to mass produce," he lied. More likely, knowing his clones, the money went on random items to put
into the crates, to make smashing them together more interesting.
Undoubtedly they just wanted a place where they could break a bunch of things against each other. If only Joe could just say that…
At least Survey actually had some information on the next project, even if he'd have to bend the truth to justify it.
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OK, a room to test out flying storage crates that could be mass produced. Sure. Benjamin Cantor would not question it. Tinkers were weird and unpredictable and his job was just to figure out where the expenses were. Apeiron would send in the actual numbers, he just needed to make sure the projects he referred to actually existed.
Still, that was surely the worst of it! No way in hell this guy had something weirder than a box with bird wings to show him!
…
He was wrong.
So wrong.
"...Apeiron, why did you use the budget to make an ice skating rink with a fleet of tiny zambonis?" he asked, his voice conveying exactly how dead inside he felt.
And then the tinker once again shocked him by replying "Oh, that isn't what I used the budget for. This was a… spur of the moment project from a few months ago. The thing I want to show you is coming out now. Just watch and enjoy the show."
From the seemingly normal wall indicated, a panel shifted upwards to reveal a motorcycle. It was a really good one, in Ben's opinion, but it was almost underwhelming. The flawless crash test dummy that looked more beautiful than a renaissance sculpture was a nice touch, though.
Then it started to move on its own, right out onto the rink. It perfectly avoided all the zambonis, weaving effortlessly despite the perfectly smooth ice. And then it drove up the walls, without leaving any marks behind or slowing down. And then the ceiling. And then onto a thin ramp that obviously shouldn't have been able to hold its weight. And, despite being seemingly unsecured, the dummy didn't shift at all.
"Very impressive, I'm sure the New York Wards will appreciate the upgrade," he stated, coming to his own conclusions. After all, they had a team up in NYC that traveled the subway on bikes. Since that was the only possible application he could think of, as everyone knew Apeiron had faster than light travel available for personal use long before today, it was probably it.
With a tone that suggested the cape was proud of him, Apeiron stated "I'm glad you understand."
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Joe had no idea what Mr. Cantor thought the bike was for, but he wasn't about to offer up an alternate explanation. The truth would be very disappointing, after all. This was really just an embarrassing old build one of the clones made before they became essentially immune to heat because they wanted to make a motorcycle that could ride easily on lava and, while they were at it, literally every other surface. Not for any reason, just for the fun of it.
It had been left unfinished, until one of the budget spending clones happened across the project and adopted it. From what they told Survey before popping, such an old creation was the perfect place to waste money. After all, it was already outdated so there was no harm in making it with inferior purchased materials.
And, apparently, the clone had also used it as a test to see exactly how much cup holders they could fit with the use of all their perks. If a more thorough demonstration was requested, Joe didn't know how he'd justify the presence of several thousand places to keep a beverage in a single vehicle… especially since a couple of them were already being used to store
literal lava for
some fucking reason.
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The next hour continued like this, with Benjamin Cantor asking for explanations on the bizarre and pointless creations that Joe had no actual information on. Thankfully his lies and justifications were all accepted relatively easily, and when they weren't flying through he made reluctant use of innuendo to throw Cantor off balance.
Now they just had one last stop.
Joe peeked his head through the door.
Why?
It was a discotheque. The world's greatest discotheque, of course, but
still!
There was no way he could justify that as a valid expense. Mr. Cantor
must not see this!
"Well, that's everything! A good time was had by all but we're both busy people!" Joe said, his voice staying smooth and silky despite the panic welling up.
"Weren't you going to show me what's behind that door?" Mr. Cantor objected, actually somewhat curious. He had seen a lot of bright blue and green light flow out the door for the brief time it was open.
"Well, it's actually just… a Behemoth attack recreation," Joe said calmly, even as he wished he could smack himself for the lie he had just concocted.
"A behemoth attack? In your lab? Located right behind this door? Active right now?"
"Yes. Well, as I said, a recreation of one. A lot of dynakinetic effects the Herokiller can produce being replicated to create a similar environment to a fight with him. I've got a lot of tinkertech in there. It's an extreme stress test, essentially, to make sure anything I make is suitable to bring to a potential attack by him."
Cantor thought that idea didn't sound… too unreasonable. It was terrifying that Apeiron could apparently use his tinkertech to replicate what an endbringer was capable of, but the actual application of such a room was sensible. Other tinkers would probably welcome the chance to test their equipment that rigorously.
"May I see it?" Cantor asked.
"No. Too much radiation. From all the… replicated effects in there. I'm fine, of course. My armor was designed specifically to resist these conditions. That's a matter for the tinkertech review, though. When it comes to the budget, we've covered basically everything. Unless you want to inspect me…
even closer?" And there was innuendo getting out of control again.
Benjamin Cantor decided that was more than enough. He might have persisted more, but dammit he was a married man and straight and he wasn't going to risk that status by extending his time with Apeiron.
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"Well, you're an exceptionally odd individual, even by parahuman standards…" Cantor said as he stood by the teleporter. "But I must say, you make some good bikes. Just send in the actual expenses before the end of the day."
And then he was gone, transported back to where he had been before the inspection.
A moment passed.
Joe reached for a duplication potion. He would need to get a Behemoth attack stress testing room made before the tinkertech inspection rolled around and he sure as hell wasn't gonna do that himself.
