Scale 5.11
Bryce Kiley
2010, December 19: Brockton Bay, NH, USA
Sabah called me out on Sunday morning. It wasn't how I planned to spend my Sunday, but I could think of worse distractions.
The two of us met up at Harvey's Bar & Grill again. It was my extraneous safehouse and close to the college. Like many similar bars, it had a Sunday brunch menu that mostly consisted of overpriced mimosas and bloody marys so college kids could feel classy. I pretended to be the owner again and ordered us some food before leading us upstairs.
I set our food on the coffee table. Sabah had opted for a breakfast wrap with altogether too many leaves while I'd grabbed a potato and onion frittata for myself. A part of me wanted to order us bloody marys but I could already imagine Sabah's big sister instincts kicking in with those wide, disapproving eyes.
I removed my helmet to eat and the texture fell away. Pretending to be a middle-aged man was even less fun than it sounded. The food was nice, if nothing to write home over.
"So… How's life, Bryce?" Sabah asked as she nibbled on her wrap.
"Not bad. It's winter break so not having school is nice," I replied. "Oh, I ruined a pirate's life."
"Like… a digital pirate? Bootleg movies and stuff?"
"What? No, like pirate-pirate. Captain Hook's idiotic little brother."
"We have a pirate themed villain in Brockton?"
"No, we don't. Okay, so I was up in Nova Scotia on Friday…"
I regaled her with my little misadventure as we ate. Sabah was a good listener, if only because this was a glimpse into the life of a cape, a life she might one day be called to live.
I tried to make it as humorous as I could. Yes, I did go all the way to Nova Scotia just to build sandcastles out of gravel. Yes, Captain Morgan had a stupid beard. Yes, he was wanted for murder. No, I was never in danger. In a way, I felt a little like a cop explaining to his daughter that the bad guys he faced weren't a big deal.
"Do you leave the city often? I mean, most capes don't really do that, right?"
"No, they don't. I don't either. I really did just go so I could find an abandoned islet somewhere to practice. I wasn't the one looking for a fight."
"But you found one. And now, everyone thinks Creed went all the way up to Canada just to hunt down a rum mascot," Sabah giggled. I nudged her in the rib, making her jump up with a squeal. "Eep! Stop that!"
"Then stop laughing at me," I shot back.
"It's not my fault. You look so pouty like that. You arrested a murderer. Isn't that a good thing? You should be proud."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm a proper hero now."
"You're too focused on reputation. Can't you just say you did something good and leave it at that?" she said gently.
"Yeah, you're right," I sighed. "I'm not actually mad, just… miffed, in a 'I can't believe this actually happened,' kinda way."
"I get it. Anyway, I've been thinking about the whole cape thing…"
"Yeah? Oh! Did your specialization change?" I rolled up my sleeve to reveal a bracelet, the conduit for Sabah's power. "I made sure to not take it off."
"It did. It feels weird now, like the folder in my brain labeled 'Bryce stuff' is packed full. I can build prosthetics, but also… rayguns?"
"Hold on, prosthetics?" I asked. If she retained what I gave her, that'd be game-changing. "You can still build automail?"
"No? Should I be able to?" she asked in confusion.
"No, I didn't think you would. I guess it makes sense. It'd be pretty weird if this setting didn't have prosthetics."
"So, rayguns? There's a lot here that's super lethal, like the one that splits into six parts and makes a huge fireball. Why would anyone make something so impractical? What does it even do that a regular pistol can't?" she huffed, cheeks puffed out like an adorable chipmunk.
I laughed. Figures, an engineer like Sabah would feel frustrated. She was talking about Gru's "Big Blaster Cannon," a handheld plasma launcher with six, flimsy-looking arms. "Maybe someone really likes plasma guns."
"Well it's stupid. An invention should be practical and ergonomic, not… whatever that is. Now, the freeze ray, that's a lot better. I like how it's not actually lethal even though it completely shuts people down."
"Oh? You wanna build that one?"
"Can I?"
"Of course you can. Why do you think I'm wearing this bracelet? Speaking of which," I dug around in my expanded bag and handed her a big spool of thread. "Have you had a chance to work with Germa fiber yet?"
Her face fell a bit at that. "I did. It's awesome, but… I can't really cut it."
"Oh, yeah… Oops…" It was the age-old question of how anyone forged Captain America's shield. The more durable a material, the harder it was to work with in turn.
"It's fine. I mean, I can tinker up something. Maybe a plasma cutter?"
"You definitely can, but maybe hold off on that. For now, how about you give me your measurements and designs and I'll make the costume for you. I'll install the shield and invisibility modules at the same time. After that, you can come visit the lab on your own."
"Aww, that's a shame. But you're probably right. The only space big enough for that kind of thing would be the university fashion studio and I have to share that with other people in the department."
"Heh, you really like being a tinker, huh?"
"I do," she nodded happily. "I think I'll make myself a set of… Mild Moose Tranq Darts…? Who comes up with the names?"
"My power's weird. I've learned to cope."
"Whatever. I should have enough materials lying around for a small launcher for self-defense. Oh, and a Lipstick Taser to start."
"Not the fart gun?"
She gave me a withering glare. "Don't even joke about that. Seriously, what's wrong with your power?"
"I wish I knew… Okay, let me make you the materials for those so you don't have to go shopping. Just make sure to prioritize your costume design first, okay?"
"Yeah, having access to your lab is definitely my number one priority here." She paused and went cross-eyed. "Hold on, we can make a teleporter, can't we? It's been done before."
Did Despicable Me have those? No, of course they did. I looked through my own catalog. If we had one, it'd be a convenient way to let Amy and Sabah into my lab.
After some thought, I shook my head in the negative. "No, we can't. The teleporter works between two, stationary platforms. It's not a portable device and the energy cost would be impossible to hide, even for me."
"Dang, that's a shame. A teleporter sounds so cool."
"Where would you build it, anyway?"
"That's true… This tinker thing is harder than I thought."
"Right? I'll probably build one in my lab as a proof of concept at some point, but it's of very limited use."
"Ooh, can I help?"
"Sure, why not? You literally have the exact same specialization as me," I said. And, the last thing I wanted was for her to feel unwanted, experiment on her own, and get caught out by the Empire or something.
"Thanks, Bryce, really," she said with a smile.
"Don't mention it. Now, you've got two more slots. Have you thought about which capes you want to approach?"
"I have. And you were right. I want to see what I can do with Panacea's powers. I know it'll probably be a big downgrade, but even a little healing would be better than nothing."
"Fair warning: I can't remember if I've told you this or not, but Panacea's an unrestricted biokinetic, not a healer."
"Does that mean a downgraded version of her power won't let me heal?"
"No, that's not it. If anything, Panacea's already using the downgraded version of her power. She's intentionally limiting herself so much that it's like a boxer sawing off his own arm before getting into the ring," I said. Shaper really was that ridiculous. "I'm mentioning it because if anything, you might end up with a stronger biokinetic power than you expected."
"Her power's that strong?"
"Unrestricted biokinesis and all the wonders and horrors that come with that. Zombie plagues, supersoldiers, bio-titans as large as endbringers, you name it, she can make it."
"Oh… I'm not sure if I want that kind of power," she whispered. Trigger aside, Sabah was as conflict-avoidant as ever.
"Neither does Amy. It's why she only ever heals people," I said. "As far as I'm concerned, your first reaction being avoidance is a good sign that you can be trusted with something like this."
"Would she even let me copy her? I mean, if my power was that dangerous, I don't think I'd hand it off to anyone else, even a weaker copy."
"I told you. Officially, Amy's The GOAT, the person I've been working with this whole time. I don't know if she will, but I can make introductions. She's at least willing to meet you if you want to go this route."
"Then yes, I do want to do this."
I made a note to myself. Amy was prickly at the best of times and I wanted my two friends to get along. If nothing else, they could both use more friends. "How do you feel about a coffee date?"
"A date?" Sabah squeaked. "Bryce, that's really flattering, but you're a little young for me… and I'm more into girls…"
I barely held down a bark of laughter. "Ouch, my poor heart… But I meant Amy. I was thinking that you two could meet up for a coffee date or something. You know, outside the lab and out of costume so not everything has to be about work."
"I guess? I don't know. Can you just introduce us over PHO and go from there?"
"Alright, I can do that, once I make you a pokenav. It won't have SAINT in it, but it'll be a lot less hackable than the junk you're using now."
"Gee, thanks. I paid four hundred for this 'junk,'" she said with a wry grin. Then, she brightened, "Say, can I make my own phone? A spy phone? It's small enough that I should be able to hide my tinkering. And, I have all the materials right at home anyway."
"Hmm… Okay, but be careful. What will you say if your brothers find out?"
"That I'm using my engineering degree to jailbreak my phone."
"You dropped out. You don't have an engineering degree."
"I switched majors, you jerk," she said, jabbing me in the ribs. "I didn't drop out."
"Fine, fine. And your third bracelet?"
"I'm not sure. Like you said, Shielder would be a good candidate, but you're giving me a shield module anyway. I'd like to keep it to myself for now. I'm not really comfortable approaching other capes, especially if you're not working with them already."
"Suit yourself," I shrugged.
With little else to talk about, the two of us soon parted. Sabah went home to make herself a more secure phone while I headed to the lab to get started on my own projects.
Final assembly on the shield and cloaking modules would require my direct input, but because they were things I'd built before, SAINT had access to the blueprints. I wanted to see how far he could go on his own. Meanwhile, I had spider-cookies to build.
X
Lisa Wilbourn
Three days. They kept me in that cell for three days. My teammates got called out one by one, but I was left to stew, which in itself told me what I already knew: I was the real prize and they were just being processed as normal.
By this point, I was certain that something had happened to Coil. The GOAT and their organization had taken him out somehow. I didn't know if he was dead or in hiding. For all I knew, he could have been forcibly recruited. A spike of dark amusement shot through me at the thought. Served him right for pulling that shit on me.
Whatever the case, Coil hadn't killed me off or broken us out of jail. He hadn't even tried to threaten us into silence or made any form of contact. The cogs of the justice system were left to grind along on their own.
That made things somewhat predictable. Grue, as the easiest to process, was the first to disappear. He'd take a plea deal and get reassigned somewhere as a new hero.
Hell, if he played things right, he could even get custody of Aisha; he was old enough and his parents were fucked up enough that it was an option. The PRT would use said custody as a leash, but it wasn't like Coil hadn't been doing that anyway.
Bitch had been next. Her case was a coin toss. The practical thing for the PRT to do would be to use the trigger excuse and dismiss the murder charge before recruiting her. If they moved her out to someplace with lots of land, she could be a phenomenal trainer for k-9s and other service dogs.
But knowing them, murder was murder. There was also a good chance that she'd go to jail and stay there. It was a shame; I actually found her to be the easiest to manage among my teammates, if only because it was like having a grumpy pet.
Regent had been the trickiest to handle. He was a hedonist, a fucked up sociopath. I remembered him laughing about puppeting some poor girl's body and using that body to overdose on every drug imaginable so he could experience the sensation without getting his own body addicted.
Even aside from the "son of Heartbreaker" thing, he was a human master who'd used his power for murder, rape, and everything in between. Sure, he was a minor and grew up in awful circumstances, but pity would only get him so far.
Which left me.
"Miss Livsey, please exit the cell," a sharply dressed, redheaded woman called. She wasn't a guard, which meant she was here to offer me my own plea deal.
"Wilbourn," I said. I'd tossed aside my domino mask a while ago, but I still refused to be called by that name. "Those assholes are dead to me."
"Wilbourn. Please, come with me."
She led me to a windowless interrogation room. It had a table and two chairs, one noticeably bigger than the other. She naturally took the big one, leaving the small, uncomfortable seat for me. It was all so stereotypical.
I allowed her to play her games. Didn't she know that this shit didn't work on a thinker?
"Miss Wilbourn, my name is Maria Thorpe, an investigative counsel from Watchdog. Do you understand the options left to you?" she began. That meant she was a thinker, or at least someone used to dealing with thinkers.
I leaned back in my chair, as much as the uncomfortable plastic would let me. "Wow, Watchdog. I must be quite the catch."
"Indeed. I am here to make you an offer."
"I can guess, but fine, enlighten me. What does the shady federal thinker organization want from me?"
"We predominantly handle white collar crimes such as attempts to manipulate the stock market. You are being offered a pardon to join us."
"Oh? What's in it for me?"
"A full pardon for your many crimes, including charges of domestic terrorism. We found the bombs at the Forsberg Gallery."
That made me laugh. "You and I both know that charge won't stick. You can play hardball with the rest of my team, but don't think you can intimidate me with that half-assed bullshit."
"Oh? Do you really think that? Those charges might not stick with the rest, but you were the one who maintained contact with your employer."
"Try again. If you had those records, you'd know that I was coerced into being part of the team. Even if you don't mention it, you can bet that'll come up in my defense during discovery, bitch."
"There is no need for name-calling. We are prepared to make you a rather lucrative offer, one that does not involve your parents."
"That's a low blow," I sneered. "You think sending me back with those assholes will change anything?"
"No, it won't, which is why we're not involving them," she said. She sighed and leaned forward, making eye contact and offering me a sympathetic smile. "Look, Lisa, you're valuable. You know you're valuable. We want you and we're willing to make it worth your while. How does a hundred and fifty grand annual with benefits sound? Of course, your salary will increase as you prove yourself."
That wasn't a terrible deal, to be honest. Wards typically made… considerably less, especially when they were being pressganged. Still, I could hardly bite at the first dangling bait. I scoffed derisively. "That's it? Do you have any idea how lucrative being a villain can be?"
"We do, but the alternative isn't being a villain, the alternative is being tried as an adult and going to jail for a long time."
"Tell me, what happened to Coil? You obviously know about my employer by now. What have you done with him?"
"That is classified. He will not save you."
I studied her for a moment, then laughed. "You lost him! Haha, you have no idea where he is because he went missing!"
"Lisa–"
"Is that going to be my first mission? Find my old boss? Because, damn, I'm almost tempted just for the chance to shoot the bastard."
"You won't be tasked with fieldwork of any kind for a long time. I assure you, your posting will be safe, confidential, and well-paid. You will have plenty of opportunities for advancement. Think it over, it's surely better than the alternative."
I allowed the room to fall silent. It wasn't a bad offer. The money was much less than I could make in the "private sector," but it wasn't like I was motivated by money. A steady salary rather than bigger one-time payments wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. After a certain point, there was little difference between one wealth bracket and another in terms of one's standard of living.
Truthfully, this was everything I'd ever wanted. I could have wealth, protection, and, eventually, authority as well. They'd come to rely on me sooner or later. I would no longer have to put myself in the field like a brute.
And yet, I'd turned down the possibility before. I wasn't an idiot; it wasn't like I'd never thought about Watchdog, or the government in general. Back when I first chose to run away from home, these guys were the first group to come to mind. My circumstances had changed, but the reasons I'd refused to approach them had not. Those were still as valid as ever.
I'd be a pet. Sure, the leash would be made of softer leather and the cage would be nice and pretty, but I'd be a pet nonetheless. The thought of becoming someone else's tool pissed me off. I'd ditched my "parents" for that exact, fucking reason. Now that Coil was missing or dead, there was no way in hell I'd just roll on my back and ask for belly rubs.
I studied "Maria Thorpe" carefully. There was no way that was her real name, but it didn't matter. The real question was: Between jail or Watchdog, which option would be easier to escape from?
For a second, I considered outing Creed. He, or someone else in The GOAT's organization, had an AI. That was against at least a dozen different international and domestic laws. I could probably leverage the information for extra compensation.
No, that wasn't the right call. Watchdog would have to verify anything I said and I wouldn't trust these idiots to verify the grease at Fugly Bob's. These were the same idiots who thought "cranberry-purple" was a valid threat rating. It'd be my word against The GOAT's. They'd have to take me seriously, but there was no way The GOAT didn't have a plan in case their pet AI was revealed.
Worse, I'd be making an enemy of an organization that took down Coil. Putting aside that I wanted to shake their hand, The GOAT was a competent thinker, someone who played Brockton Bay's game of geopolitics like a chessmaster in the shadows. He was everything Coil wished he could be.
And what would happen after I escaped? Would they hunt me down? They'd obviously let the Undersiders off because we hadn't committed any major crimes under Coil, but that could change if I intentionally pissed them off like this.
No, if I told them about Creed's AI, it'd mean tying myself to the feds for life. Either the feds needed to protect me, or I'd spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.
I chose to keep quiet. Creed's little AI would be something I kept in my back pocket. Why would I surrender something this juicy when I could escape and cash this gem in for myself? What would The GOAT give to buy my silence?
I leaned back in my chair and shot her the smuggest smirk I could. "You know, I've thought it over, and I think I'd like to go to jail."
She blinked owlishly. She didn't understand because she didn't know what I knew. "You… want… jail."
"Yup. That's what I said. I'll see you in court. Oh, and could you make sure my public defender isn't a total imbecile? I'd appreciate that."
"Why? Lisa, you've got your whole life ahead of you. This is an opportunity that can–"
"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all before. I ran away from home because I refused to be controlled by my parents. There isn't any amount of money that you feds can offer that'd make me want to be controlled by you."
"You're making a mistake."
"We'll see," I said confidently.
Sure, joining Watchdog offered more freedom on the surface, but it replaced a cage with a leash. I didn't doubt that I'd be under "protective custody." A thinker or dozen would be keeping an eye on me.
Whereas if I went to jail, I'd be in a cage, but with dozens of gullible, easily manipulated guards and cellmates. I was a woman, a minor, and I'd not done anything that could warrant the Birdcage.
They'd threaten to get me tried as an adult, because they did that with most villains, but I'd bet I could get that motion dismissed with a good sob story. Give me a month or two, six at most, and I'd be out, free to seek compensation from The GOAT.
After all, as they said: Silence was golden.
Author's Note
This ended up being a quasi-interlude.
Yes, the gist of Sabah's conversation already happened. It's happening again because she's an indecisive person. She's slowly building up a plan and an identity.
Don't you love how in most stories, the villains getting arrested means they exit stage left and don't appear again? Not here. I still have plans for Lisa.
If she seems bitchy and apathetic towards her teammates, that's because she is. The Undersiders became active in July 2010. They aren't the tight-knit friend group of misfits you find in Worm. In many ways, it was Taylor who drew them together. They're a bunch of teenagers forced onto a team, a team whose boss Lisa loathes with every fiber of her being.
Animal Fact: Kangaroos cannot walk backwards. I know, obvious when you think about it, but it still made me pause for a sec.