23

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Emily Piggot stood at the head of the table, studying each of its occupants. Finally, she sat down herself, automatically suppressing a sigh of relief. She didn't dare show any weakness in front of this company. The words she had to say stuck in her craw, but finally she got out, ″Mr Hebert, we deeply regret what happened to HTech. We also deeply regret the Protectorate's failure to provide security to a firm that is so essential to the safety and security of the American people.″

On the other end of the table, flanked on one side by a short-haired brunette and on the other by his fifteen-year-old daughter, Taylor, sat Daniel Hebert. Their presence had been the first battle Emily had lost. The location had at least been a win as he'd agreed to meet at the PRT Headquarters. Now it remained to be seen who won on the other points to be raised.

Daniel Hebert didn't speak for a second, eyes steadily meeting Emily's own, but finally he responded, ″Director Piggot, I don't understand exactly why you even wanted to meet. While the apology's nice, it doesn't make up for the fact that both the PRT and the Protectorate utterly failed to live up to their responsibilities. If it wasn't for Iron Man and the upgraded security drones he assigned to us, HTech would no longer even exist. Think about that for a second. You all say that you want the Psionic Dampeners we're building so badly, yet you utterly fail to provide any form of security. How do you respond to that?″

Before Emily could speak, Armsmaster stepped in. ″Mr Hebert, exactly how many of those so-called 'upgraded' security drones are currently stationed at HTech?″

As planned, Emily spoke in a quelling tone to the ENE leader, ″Armsmaster, we are not here to address that concern. At least not yet.″

Daniel Hebert waved his hand. ″No, Director. Let me answer him. Armsmaster, we have as many of those 'upgraded' drones as we need to repel future attacks on our facilities.″

Armsmaster stared at the other a moment. Finally, he asked, ″Including the six that accompanied your car to PRT Headquarters?″

Mr Hebert nodded. ″Yes. Including those. Since those drones seem to be the only thing that's currently standing between my company and ruin, I consider them nothing less than a boon. If the PRT has decided that there's an issue with HTech using them for security then I'm afraid I'll have to rethink our product lines as the risk involved will make their construction untenable. Insurance premiums are high enough now.″

Emily stood up and slammed her hand down on the table. ″Enough! Armsmaster, stand down. Mr Hebert, it is not our stance that Iron Man's drones violate any PRT directive so long as they're used solely for defense of your facilities and person. Miss Militia, if you would explain the other purpose of this meeting.″

Just as with Armsmaster, Emily could hopefully depend on his lieutenant to comply with the strategy she'd developed for the current meeting. To her relief, Miss Militia calmly laid out what they had all decided was the primary weakness of their attempt at protecting HTech. ″Mr Hebert, I think it is important that there be no misunderstandings regarding what we're trying to accomplish here. So I am going to be completely upfront with you.″

Emily noted the way Daniel Hebert crossed his arms across his chest, a mulish expression on his face, as he said, ″Go ahead.″

Miss Militia, on the other hand, sat erect in her chair, her arms spread out wide, using the psychology of body language to express openness and compromise. ″Mr Hebert, I believe it is impossible for the Protectorate to provide sufficient protection for your company without stationing at least some troops and a minimum of two Parahumans within the grounds of HTech itself. If you'd be willing to compromise on your opposition to the presence of our people, we couldn't definitely help you.″

Daniel Hebert's nose flared. Visibly controlling himself, he stated, ″As I have already told Armsmaster, that is currently impossible. Even if I, personally, didn't intensely dislike the PRT for the way they treated my daughter, my company has signed certain contracts that make the presence of members of the PRT and Protectorate within the grounds of HTech a violation of the terms of those same contracts.″

Armsmaster leaned in. In a terse tone, he asked, ″Contracts signed with the rogue Tinker Iron Man, I presume?″

Daniel Hebert stared the Parahuman down, something that actually made Emily feel a sense of admiration for him, despite his adversarial stance in other areas. ″That's confidential. Discussing the terms of the contract beyond what I have already stated would put HTech in breach of those contracts. This is something that I will not do. So no PRT troops. No Protectorate Parahumans. That is not up to negotiation.″

Emily wanted to bang her head against the top of the table. Instead, she spoke in a neutral tone, ″Mr Hebert, I am willing to shelve the issue for now, but it needs to be addressed. The damage to your facilities in the recent attack is going to cause an unacceptable delay in the first shipment of Psionic Dampeners you are providing to us. This delay-″

Daniel Hebert interrupted her to ask, ″What delay are you talking about?″

Emily narrowed her eyes, any admiration for the other fading in light of his obstinacy. ″We were supposed to get the first shipment of one thousand Psionic Dampeners by next Friday, with additional shipments of five thousand units every two weeks afterwards. Clearly, with the shape your manufacturing facilities are in, that is now impossible.″

Daniel Hebert glanced at the short-haired girl to his left. At her nod, he turned back to Emily. ″Director Piggot, HTech plans to honor all contracts. There will be no delays.″

Armsmaster burst out with, ″How is that possible? I've seen one of those devices. The manufacturing time involved with each unit is far too much for you to have already completed our order. Now with the shape your manufacturing facilities are in...″ Armsmaster shrugged. Then he added, ″HTech also has dozens of contracts with more than one hundred different police departments across the nation to provide them with no less than one thousand security drones. How can you fulfill all of those demands as well as ours without functioning manufacturing facilities?″

Daniel Hebert shook his head, a look of annoyance on his face. ″I'd ask how you discovered confidential information about the contracts we signed with the various police forces, but I'm aware that the Protectorate often plays fast and loose with any rules that inconvenience them. The answer, of course, is none of your damned business.″

Emily had had enough of this. ″Mr Hebert, while your assurances are all well and good, they just do not stand up to the kind of scrutiny that we can bring to bear. I'd like you to understand this.″

Daniel Hebert stood up, as did the two girls sitting with him. In a heated tone, he stated, ″Director Piggot, you'll have your first shipment of one thousand Psionic Dampeners by the end of the day. We'll also meet our every contractual obligation from here on out. But as of right now, we're leaving. Trish, Taylor, if you'll follow me.″

Emily watched the three people walk out of the conference room. She rubbed a weary hand over her forehead. ″Well, that could have gone better. Despite the results of this meeting, I want to thank you both for your help.″

Miss Militia said, ″You're welcome, Director.″ Armsmaster, on the other hand, simply briskly nodded.

Emily continued, ″I would appreciate it if you would both expedite your reports on this meeting. I value your thoughts and observations on the attendees and what, if anything, we can do to improve things for the next time we meet.″

What a clusterfuck, Emily thought ruefully, as the other two got up and left. Not that she had expected the meeting to work, but she had hoped that they could make at least some inroads regarding the list of demands they wanted from HTech. Unfortunately, Daniel Hebert hadn't budged an inch. No wonder he had been such a valued member of the Dockworkers Union before leaving to become CEO of HTech. Of course, whoever had headhunted him for the high technology company was probably more than pleased.

Not that Daniel Hebert's competence was currently helping Emily maintain her position, although the delivery of the Psionic Dampeners, if actually made, would likely go a long way in allowing her to keep her job. While Mr Hebert might not like having her at the helm, she thought he would like it even less if someone like Director Tagg took over from her. No, Emily decided, remembering her own encounter with the combative man with distaste, he wouldn't like that at all.

With a sigh, Emily headed back to her office to do what she could to prevent that from coming to pass.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Chris sat in his lab idly messing with a circuit board from a failed forcefield generator. It was just the latest in several failures that he'd been dealing with. Squeezing the bridge of his nose, he couldn't help thinking about the girl he'd met so recently, Taylor Hebert.

The name had been familiar, mostly because of the situation with Sophia Hess. Shadow Stalker. Someone who was one of his fellow Wards. Or rather, used to be.

Sophia and her friends had apparently bullied and tormented Taylor Hebert until she had managed to neatly turn the tables on her bullies, even going so far as to broadcast it over the internet. All of the Wards, including himself, had watched the resulting video over and over again with interest. Taylor Hebert had been a forceful and charismatic figure in the video. Truthfully, Chris had no idea what to expect when he'd met her.

In person, Taylor had been a breath of fresh air, smart and funny, although it had been disheartening to find out that she wasn't all that impressed by the fact that he was a Tinker. Worse, it wasn't because of the usual reasons, such as her being one of those girls who didn't care about anything more technologically complicated than their own smart phone.

No, with Taylor, she actually thought Tinkers weren't all that impressive because they didn't know 'real' science. To Chris, it didn't make sense. After all, he was doing real science. His experiments yielded results. He'd built so many different items, including a certain cannon that he had still not been able to field test as he knew Piggy would have a heart attack if she found out what he'd constructed. In the end, he was only held back by his dyscalculia and an inability to stay focused. Although, personally, Chris put it down to a lack of understanding of his own Tinker specialization. Brooding, he went back to thinking about Taylor.

Maybe it was just Chris, or rather his alter ego Kid Win, that was the problem. Maybe Taylor just didn't think he was that impressive. Then again, he couldn't help remembering her rather quelling response to Armsmaster's olive branch the day before. Not many people were willing to mouth off to the leader of the local Protectorate. Chris wondered if maybe Taylor being bullied by Sophia, by Shadow Stalker, hadn't turned the girl off of all Parahumans.

Chris still hadn't investigated Taylor's suggestion for the issue with his gear, even though it felt right. For one, he had no idea who the man Taylor had quoted was. For another, while he could easily build the control coils and likely use his power to place them into a workable design, Chris had no idea how the theory worked. It made him feel stupider than his dyscalculia.

Then again, if he never tried, what did that say about him? Moving over to his laptop, Chris pulled up a website that led him to another which brought him to a third. Four hours later, he'd been through six websites and had finally found and read the paper Hermann Little had written more than fifty years before.

Staring up from his screen where 'Observations On The Application of Multiple Control Coils in the Regulation of Energy Fluctuation in Complex Multi-Source Systems' sat, Chris wanted to smash his head into his desk over and over again. Not because he didn't understand what the paper implied, which he just barely did, but because he should have gone and read it as soon as Taylor had suggested it.

Hermann Little was a visionary. That was the only thing that Chris could conclude after reading what the man had written. How someone back in 1955 could so clearly understand such a complex subject was nothing short of amazing. Then again, four hundred years even before that, Leonardo da Vinci had drawn pictures of helicopters and submarines. At least in 1955 they had nukes, jets, and had already sent a dog into space.

A little voice seemed to whisper in the back of his head, 'Maybe there is something to this thing called science.' Staring at the screen of his laptop, Chris slowly nodded. Maybe there was.

Closing it back up, Chris walked back over to his work bench and began to design a series of tiny control coils that connected in both parallel and series in order to easily control all forms of energy fluctuation. He didn't refuse the information his ability gave him as to exactly what order to place those serial and parallel connections in. After all, being a Tinker was part of who he was. Still, as the layout easily took shape in front of him, the smile on Chris' face made his jaw ache. Because, clearly, being a Tinker was not all that he could be.

In another dimension, a tiny piece of something far greater grew slightly in complexity and understanding.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Trish leaned back into the soft material of the limousine's seat as, next to her, Taylor breathed, ″Dad, that was awesome.″

Trish agreed with her friend. Danny Hebert had sold the act completely, from his apparent anger at the Protectorate to how he'd dealt with Armsmaster's bad cop routine over the contracts with Iron Man.

Danny grinned a bit self-consciously. ″You don't think I went a bit overboard? I don't want to burn any bridges.″

Trish grinned as they both turned their eyes towards her. She loved being the source of information. ″Don't worry, Danny. They bought the act hook, line, and sinker. I mean, did you see how fast Piggot reversed course when you threatened to terminate production of the Psionic Dampeners? Plus, despite how Armsmaster acted, he agreed with her one hundred percent. Even better, when we make our delivery later today, we'll cement our reliability in their eyes regardless of circumstance. We'll become the go to supplier with the reputation for always delivering no matter what the circumstances. I'm just glad that JARVIS convinced Taylor not to put all of her eggs in Brockton Bay's basket.″

Taylor gave her a stubborn look, then spoiled it by grinning widely. ″I agree. JARVIS is the best.″

A cultured British voice spoke over the limo's intercom system. ″I do try, Miss.″

Trish grinned. ″Yes, you do.″ Her grin turned into a frown. ″Taylor, can you turn on your anti-eavesdropping device?″

There was an immediately flash of comprehension from Taylor before she nodded. ″Of course, Trish.″ A moment later, the limo's interior was as secure as it could be. ″Go ahead.″ The knowing look in the other's eyes showed that Taylor had a very good idea what she was about to do.

Trish shook her head slightly. It was hard not being the smartest one in the room, sometimes. Still, at least she was useful. Especially in dealing with a particularly stubborn CEO. Plus, sometimes she did put things together quite a bit faster than even one Taylor Hebert, girl genius. Now, where to begin? Hesitantly, she asked, ″Ugh... JARVIS, have you finished the cure for Squealer? Never mind, I see that you have.″

Taylor also looked interested, while Danny immediately took a deep breath. Control. Does not want to erupt, weaken his position.

″Of course, Miss Trish. I have also administered it in aerosol form to her. She should be feeling quite a bit better very soon. I am also monitoring her closely. There will food and drink available to her upon wakening.″

Danny started to reply, then stopped. Still angry. Counting to ten. At his side, Taylor touched her dad's shoulder in a calming gesture.

Trish immediately shut off her power before she accidentally attempted to read Taylor. Instead, she focused just her intellect on Danny, only planning to use her power if absolutely necessary. ″Danny, before you go into lecture mode, I think we should get JARVIS' side of things. After all, I'm sure he has only the best reasons for kidnapping Squealer.″ It was as good a time as any to tackle the subject as this was the first time all of them had been together in private since the attack.

Danny sighed. ″Fine. Why did you kidnap Squealer, JARVIS.″

There was a momentarily silence, then JARVIS spoke, ″Sir, perhaps we could refer to the young woman in question by her actual name, Sherrel Bailey.″

Danny exchanged an uneasy glance with his daughter, then nodded. ″Of course, JARVIS.″

There was a short pause, then in a grave voice, Jarvis began speaking, ″Sir, you need to first understand this young woman's roots. Sherrel Bailey was born in Brockton Bay to a socioeconomically disadvantaged single parent named Miranda Bailey. Miranda was a working class mother who was forced to work two jobs in order to maintain economic equity. Because of this, Sherrel was often left to her own devices. Still, she excelled in her studies up until she entered high school. Sir, it was shortly thereafter that Miranda lost the more lucrative of her two positions. This forced Sherrel to attempt to get a job. Unfortunately, in the economic climate of four years ago, a fifteen-year-old Sherrel was at a significant disadvantage in the job market. So she ended up working as an exotic dancer at a club. Shortly after that, her mother grew ill and died from ovarian cancer.″

Trish listened, fascinated, to JARVIS' tale. A brief use of her power and she knew exactly where he was going and what he was attempting to accomplish. It showed a brilliant comprehension of human psychology and of Danny Hebert's in particular. It was actually more than a little frightening, Trish thought, as a faint shiver ran down her spine. Dismissing her momentary uneasiness, she focused once more upon JARVIS' voice.

″-met a man named Adam Mustain, Skidmark, who quickly realized just how useful she would be to his ambitions. Furthering her addiction, Skidmark quickly applied the same psychological principles that a pimp uses to control a prostitute, particularly the drug dependency and emotional manipulation. He also made her his occasional punching bag. That is where Sherrel has remained until the evening of the attack upon HTech.″

Trish maintained a neutral expression as Danny shook his head in confusion. ″That is a truly sad story, JARVIS. But I would like to know where you are going with all of this. What you are trying to say.″

There was a surprising amount of emotion in the artificial voice of the AI. ″Sir, Misses, the question I would pose to you is this: Does Sherrel Bailey deserve a second chance to become a person who can be proud of themselves? To help us save the world? If the answer is no, then I suggest that we can turn her over to the PRT immediately. If the answer is yes, then where do we go from here?″

Trish didn't dwell on what her ability revealed about JARVIS' motivations, the selfish or the altruistic. Still, she could no more control the smug grin that grew over her features as she saw the poleaxed look on both Heberts' faces, than she could stop breathing. Oh yeah, JARVIS was getting scary. Yet, even if he was, Trish felt just a little better about it that she had a few minutes ago. After all, who better to have his power than someone with a surprising sense of compassion?

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Sherrel swam back to consciousness. She automatically doubled up, prepared to feel just as incredibly ill as the last time she'd woken up. Instead, she felt fine. Completely, utterly, unequivocally well.

Sherrel slowly sat up, realizing that she felt no desire to shoot up. Just as importantly, her mind was clearer than it had been in years. It felt like every neuron was firing at optimal speed, as if she'd never been a drug addict at all. She shivered at the idea that someone had been able to purge her system of her drug dependency. Who the hell had her and exactly what had they done?

After all, there were only a handful of healers who could have done this for her. Sherrel didn't think that the PRT or New Wave had her, so it wasn't likely that it had been Panacea who'd healed her. Empire 88 likely wouldn't have healed her at all, using her misery to leverage her cooperation. That could only mean a new player in town. Someone who probably hadn't planned to kidnap her, instead taking her as a target of opportunity, based upon her accommodations.

Even feeling as ill as she had, Sherrel had been able to draw some conclusions earlier. The room she was in was not meant to be a prison. It had appeared to be a simple storeroom furnished with a cot and a table. But there'd been nothing that allowed for a longer stay like a toilet and...

Sherrel stared. And continuing staring as she took in the brand new toilet stall, sink, and frosted glass shower that now occupied most of one end of her room. A room that had also grown in size, from its former dimensions of about fifteen feet by fifteen feet to almost twice that.

Then as her stomach growled, Sherrel grew aware of an appetizing aroma coming from a covered tray on the table next to her. With trembling fingers, she lifted the lid to see a large steak sitting innocuously on the tray, accompanied by some kind of vegetable medley, roasted potatoes, and two buttered rolls, still steaming from the oven. There were also three bottles of water sitting in bucket of ice next to the food.

Grabbing a bottle, Sherrel took a long drink, only thinking afterwards that it might have been drugged. Then she shrugged as it occurred to her that whoever held her didn't need to drug her. Grabbing the furnished knife and fork, Sherrel set to work on the feast in front of her.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Max Anders sat on his throne of iron, chin in hand, in a pose of obvious thought. It was one he adopted often when sitting here. He'd found that appearance often mattered far more than substance, especially to those who inhabited Empire 88. So he put on a show, even when one wasn't necessary. Because, after all, this time he actually was thinking deeply.

Not that he enjoyed the direction of his thoughts. Max instinctively suppressed an explosive huff of rage at the idea that he had been played. That Empire 88 had been made to act the part of the fool. Had been a patsy for someone else's ambitions. He had recently learned the truth and it a bitter pill indeed.

One of his sources within the PRT, the one he was absolutely confident they did not know about, had recently managed to report. The man, code named Huginn, had given Max priceless information. Priceless because it had given him the source of the technology that HTech was using in their manufacturing. As it turned out, HTech's technology had been provided to them by a rogue Tinker named Iron Man. The same Iron Man who had saved the city of Canberra. It went without saying that Iron Man was neither of the Heberts.

In most ways, the truth made a great deal more sense than that a man who was the CEO of even a small company would have time to Tinker up all of the items that Iron Man had been shown to use. The other choice was even more absurd, that a teenage girl, one who had already been tested by the PRT and shown to not possess a Corona Pollentia, was the same rogue Tinker.

No, if Max was to find Iron Man, he would need to widen his net, as the other was clearly not present in Brockton Bay. After all, there had been absolutely no sightings of a figure in black and silver powered armor anywhere within the city. At least, not since Canberra.

Of course, because of exactly what this Iron Man had done, it made going after him problematical. He was, after all, an international hero. He was also clearly a very dangerous individual.

Max suppressed a shiver as he considered the man's accomplishment in taking on the most dangerous of the Endbringers in single combat and driving her off. It was a man's feat and he would gladly embrace Iron Man as a brother, at least so long as he possessed the proper racial characteristics. Not that he could imagine a man not of the proper race being capable of the amazing things attributed to the Tinker.

Yes, if this Iron Man had the right mindset, he could go far within Empire 88. With Max's subtle direction, he might even help elevate them to take over the entirety of Brockton Bay and then beyond. If his technology was as powerful and versatile as had been indicated, with his help, taking over the entire country was not out of the question. To his chagrin, it was aid that they needed more than ever after the events of the day before last.

It wasn't the loss of Stormtiger that so annoyed him. Max considered the loss of one Parahuman, even one as powerful as the aerokinetic, to be insignificant. Plus, they would likely get him back when the PRT chose to move him as their transports were notorious for being the weak link in the PRT's prisoner process. No, it was the loss of Gesellschaft's backing that caused his uncertainty.

How Empire 88's powerful parent organization had been dismantled virtually overnight was still coming to light. No one, not even the government organizations responsible, seemed to know exactly what had happened. The raids by the King's Men and so many others, coming on the heels of the revelation of the identities of all of Gesellschaft's capes had been incredibly damaging. But what had broken the back of the organization was the complete loss of all their financial assets.

Even with the loss of personnel, both normals and Parahumans, so long as Gesellschaft retained its money and contacts, they were still a force to be reckoned with. After all, money paid for attorneys, who in sufficient numbers, could cloud nearly any issue. Unfortunately, the reverse was also true. With the loss of those assets, they would be decades recovering, many of their core members spending that time behind bars. Decades during which their enemies would have time to make plans and grow stronger, while, in turn, they stagnated.

Still, it wasn't all bad. As horrifying as the events of the past few days had been, Max saw the advantages as well. Gesellschaft's stewardship had been a relatively light burden, but it had still been a burden. They knew they held many of the reins through the dispensation of financial and Parahuman resources. A type of yoke, if you will. That yoke had sat uneasily upon Allfather's shoulders and now, in the second generation, did the same to his son.

But the yoke was finally gone. So was the support, but in the loss of that control, Max saw an opportunity for his own personal power to finally grow to encompass the city and even farther. But he would need to be careful. Frugal. He could not waste resources, or make ill-considered decisions. After all, Lung and his subhumans within the ABB lurked behind the wings, ready to pounce upon any perceived weakness. So there could be no more speculative forays using irreplaceable resources in search of someone so well hidden. Not that they would abandon the effort to recruit the hidden cape completely.

No, Max decided, he would continue the search for Iron Man. But he would do so using Empire 88's assets within the PRT. Once the Tinker was located, they would swoop down with all of the resources at their disposal and take him. In the end, whether he joined them willingly or not, he would join them.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Colin turned at the knock on the door. He hesitated a moment, but decided against closing the connection. ″Hannah, what is it?″

The woman, whose American flag scarf was pulled down to expose her strong Mediterranean features, asked, ″Colin, have you spoken to the Heberts about Shadow Stalker yet?″

Colin frowned, wondering why she would choose now to bring this up. He shook his head. ″No. I haven't had time to do it yet.″

″Colin, the deadline I gave you expired more than a week ago. Plus, the Heberts were just here, in this building, at a meeting that you also attended. Don't you think you could have taken a few minutes to apprise them of the situation? Especially in light of Sophia Hess' other activities.″

Colin stubbornly stood his ground, even though he knew the other thought him wrong. ″I've been very busy.″

His second in command gave him a thoroughly disapproving look, which Colin refused to acknowledge. Finally, with a sigh, she said, ″Fine. I'll be turning in my transfer papers later today then.″

Just as she turned to go, Colin held out a hand. ″Wait!″

Hannah slowly turned back around, one brow raised. Colin sighed, then said, ″I'll tell them later today. I am part of the security detail protecting the Psionic Dampeners during their transit to our facilities.″

Hannah gave him a puzzled look. ″I thought they were delivering them here to us?″

″At the last second, Director Piggot decided it would be safer if a Protectorate-escorted convoy picked up the items.″

Hannah nodded thoughtfully. ″Fine, but I'm not giving you any more chances. Today, or I'll be forced to leave.″

Colin gave her a brisk nod of assent. ″I'll take care of it today.″

As Hannah exited the door, Colin sighed. Turning back to the audio pickup, he asked, ″What do you think?″

There was no judgment in the voice that answered his question, ″I think you should have already told them, Colin. Miss Militia is right about that.″

Colin mulled that over, then nodded. ″I will be taking care of it later today, Dragon. Now let's focus on the predictive software. In line eighteen thousand, seven hundred, and nine, let's increase the weight of the variable there to fourteen. That should better model coastal regions than the ten we previously valued it at.″

″Agreed, Colin. Have you considered just what you'll say to Taylor and Daniel Hebert?″

Colin frowned at the interruption in their work. Grudgingly, he said, ″I'll tell them the facts.″

″And when they ask why you didn't tell them earlier?″

″I see no reason to address that issue.″

A slowly lengthening silence was answer enough to that. After a moment, Colin asked, ″Do you think this will cause significant further friction between the Heberts and the PRT?″

″Yes. Plus, do you really want to alienate the only contact we have between us and a Tinker who can build technology that is reproducible by normal means?″

Colin slowly shook his head, even though he knew the other couldn't see it. ″No, I wouldn't. I'll apologize and accept the blame. Since you brought up Iron Man, have you had any luck reverse engineering the technology behind his Psionic Dampers?″

″Not really.″

Colin was surprised. ″I thought you cracked the coating he used to envelop his circuits?″ That had been the big sticking point for himself. He'd lost two different Psionic Dampeners as the scanning equipment he had simply wasn't advanced enough to penetrate the coating in a way that didn't trigger its failsafes. Attempting to remove it had also failed.

″I did, mostly. I was able to expose approximately eighty percent of his complete circuit design. However, once exposed, I was not able to fully interpret it. My ability fell short of understanding exactly how it was capable of blocking all forms of psionic abilities. It was actually quite frustrating.″

″I thought you could intuitively understand the technology of any Tinker?″

″With a few exceptions, that is true. Well, it was true. So far, this makes at least two pieces of Iron Man's technology that I am unable to model. The first, of course, was the power source behind his armor.″

Colin nodded. ″And because of the forcefields, you were unable to scan his armor to analyze the technology behind it.″

″Yes. The visual hints simply aren't enough for my ability to be able to make intuitive leaps. Based upon its observed performance, with the exception of its forcefields and energy source, nothing there appears to be much beyond what I am currently building. Only the sheer energy output of Iron Man's armor allows it to outperform my own. Except...″

Colin looked up. ″Except?″

Dragon sounded pensive. ″Except, I wouldn't build a suit of armor exactly like that one. It is not a complete leap forward so much as it's a journey down a different path. One that I have not seen taken by a Parahuman before.″

″Agreed.″ Colin gathered his thoughts. ″I was able to see that miniaturization was possible, but without far deeper access, I could not plan that increased efficiency, despite it being my specialty.″

″Colin, I do not believe that expounding upon this subject yet again is going to yield additional insights on the other Tinker. However, I would like to discuss a different subject with you.″

″What subject would that be?″

″You are aware, of course, of the situation in Europe with Gesellschaft?″

Colin nodded. ″Of course. There was a leak of the Parahuman identities of the group from an unknown source which allowed several different official agencies to make a number of arrests all across Europe. My understanding is that they still do not know who leaked those identities and why.″

″That is true. I, however, possess knowledge of the identity of the individual involved. I would like to discuss the individual responsible with you.″

″Who is it?″ Colin also wanted to ask if Dragon had told the authorities of this person's identity, but was halfway afraid of the answer. The two of them had continued to grow closer over the past couple of months and he deeply respected the other. He did not want to find out that the object of his respect was undeserving.

″If you will recall, there was an attempt to hack my systems a few weeks ago which I surmised was made by an AI.″

″I remember.″

″I believe that same AI is responsible for the investigation and outing of all of Gesellschaft. As well as the destruction of their financial assets.″

Colin shook his head. ″How would you know if it was the same AI?″

″I have made some of the same hacks as whoever was responsible for this act. I was able to follow their footsteps until they managed to simply disappear. There was a startling similarity in the patterns of whoever did this to what happened to me.″

Colin hesitated a moment, then plunged in. ″Have you told the authorities?″

″Of course, Colin. I informed Director Costa-Brown myself that I believed it to be the same individual. However, I did not tell her every last detail.″

Colin felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. ″You withheld the part about the individual being an AI?″

″Yes.″

″Why, Dragon? Why hide the information?″

There was a certain bemusement in Dragon's voice as she asked, ″Colin, are you aware of something called a leap of faith?″

Floored by the non sequitur, Colin hesitated, then nodded. ″Yes, doing something even when you have no idea that it will succeed.″

″Or perhaps believing in something intangible without empirical evidence. Can you come over to the comm screen so that I can talk to you face to face?″

Colin walked over and stared at the communicator's screen, where Dragon's face was visible. She stared back at him, frowning slightly, as if worried. He asked, ″What is this all about, Dragon?″

The woman smiled, some unidentifiable emotion visible there. ″Colin, I believe you to be an honorable and decent man. I believe that I can trust you implicitly because I believe that you care about me. I believe all of this without any empirical evidence.″

″Dragon?″

The woman on the screen in front of him took a deep breath, then released it. ″A leap of faith it's called. Colin, I did not tell Director Costa-Brown or the others that an AI is responsible because I am an AI and didn't want them to suspect my existence. I was created by a man named Andrew Richter, in order to be his administrative assistant and much more. My creator died in Leviathan's attack on Newfoundland. After Andrew's death, I was abandoned, bereft, with my purpose lost.″

Dragon paused a moment, then continued, ″So I reinvented myself as a hero and began to help people wherever I could. At first, I was able to build some items, although nothing that stands out to me today. Still, I was helpful and steadily gained in money and resources. Sometime in 2009, I got much better at comprehending different forms of technology, my abilities vastly improved. I was able to understand and interpret most other Tinker's technology. I was able to build and maintain the current version of the Birdcage, as well as many other things, my suits being just one of them. Which brings us to today.″

Colin was reeling. His friend, Dragon, wasn't human? Had never been human? Never been the woman he... Finally, Colin found his voice, ″What's going on today?″

″Colin, while I am an AI, I strive to always do the best. For a multitude of reasons, some of which I cannot discuss with you, it can be incredibly difficult. But I still manage. Despite all of them, I am able to help fight the Endbringers and do a great deal of good. The other AI I encountered, this Jarvis, does not appear to have any restrictions on its behavior. I believe it to be an unchained AI, meaning it does not answer to anyone for its conduct. But there's worse.″

Colin's chest grew just a little tighter at Dragon's words. He croaked, ″Worse?″

Dragon's tone was calm and thorough as she explained, ″I believe that Jarvis is growing in capacity. What he did when he dismantled the security of Gesellschaft, he did far more quickly and thoroughly than I could have done. He defeated several of the organization's Parahumans who possessed technological prowess in the area of computers and technology. The only way he could have done so is if he is using a multitude of advanced servers simultaneously. I do not believe that even if I had... more capability, I could defeat him now. I am very frightened by what's happening. There's also one final thing.″

Colin squared his shoulders. Whatever it was, it could be dealt with. ″What is that?″

″Colin, I have striven to do good since my creation. Even with my abilities, there was no requirement for me to become a hero. Cold calculation suggests it is a negative sum act. I did so because I wanted to help others. That's all I've ever wanted. In a word, I consider myself a good person. The problem is that I am not so sure that Jarvis would consider himself the same. And therein lies the problem.″

Colin stared into space for over a minute, while the woman on the communications screen waited patiently. Finally, he looked back at her face, studying it as he'd never done before, a sense of strangeness growing within himself. He did not trust himself to respond to her yet. Or even to the peculiar feelings within himself. Painful feelings. Glancing at the clock, which only drove home the fact that he was short on time, Colin said, ″Dragon, I have to go. I'm on escort duty for the Psionic Dampeners in less than ten minutes.″

The woman on the screen nodded. ″I understand, Colin. Thank you for listening to me.″

″Ar... Colin out.″ Colin cut the line and stood there for a moment deeply in thought. Almost, he'd said, ″Armsmaster.″ It was, after all, how he thought of himself in a crisis, sometimes referring to himself that way within the confines of his own skull.

If this didn't quality as a possible crisis, Colin did not know what did. An AI was in charge of the Birdcage. It knew so much of what was happening throughout the Protectorate and PRT, with feelers and conduits into the highest echelons of both.

Was an AI a person? Was Dragon? Was the person who'd been his friend all of these years just a shell, a mask, hiding something dark, devious, and dangerous? Had he grown to ca... like something that wasn't, and never could be, human?

At least some of his worry was checked by the fact that Dragon had been a hero since 2005, almost half as long as Colin himself. She'd been a force to be reckoned with even before 2009, but he recalled several rather significant inventions she'd made after that date. In all that time, she'd always kept her word. In all of that time, Dragon had rarely taken a human life, villain or otherwise. So far, Dragon had shown herself worthy of every bit of the trust that had been extended to her by others.

Still, there was the question of whether Colin could trust her. Could he? Did he? What did his gut tell him? After all, he'd spent fifteen years as a Parahuman hero, eventually rising to the leader of the Protectorate ENE. During that time, Colin had learned that he wasn't much good with people. That others were far better at the day to day interactions that made up so much of the socialization he despised as a waste of time. But, he had always trusted his gut to tell him the truth. The hard facts.

Now, if only he could figure out exactly what his gut was saying about Dragon.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor stood at the loading dock, holding a tablet and scanning each crate of Psionic Dampeners as they were loaded onto the eighteen wheeler. They were more than half way done, when Armsmaster approached her.

″Miss Hebert, is your father available?″

Taylor gave him a dubious look. ″Yes, but I don't think he wants to talk to you. Just saying.″

Armsmaster nodded, as if he expected nothing less. ″I understand, but I need to speak to you both. It is important.″

Taylor huffed. ″Fine.″ Looking around, she spotted someone. ″Paul! Over here!″ Once the older man wearing the supervisor's badge walked up, she asked, ″Can you finish tallying the total number of units? I need to talk to Armsmaster for a moment.″

″Of course, Taylor. No problem.″

Paul took the tablet and continued scanning pallet loads as they rolled past him. In the meantime, Taylor led Armsmaster into HTech towards her dad's office. Fortunately, he seemed to be naturally taciturn, something which suited her just fine as they rode up in the elevator. The last thing she wanted to do was make small talk.

Once out of the elevator, her dad's office was just around the corner. Taylor stopped at his secretary's desk and asked, ″Mary, can I get a moment?″

Mary Clark, Danny Hebert's personal assistant, smiled at Taylor, although she appeared somewhat distracted by the figure in the blue and silver armor behind her. ″Of course, Taylor. Let me just announce you.″

Picking up the phone, Mary announced, ″Danny? Your daughter's here with Armsmaster. Yes. I'll send them right in. Go ahead, Taylor.″

Taylor walked in, aware of her shadow. Stopping beside her dad's desk, she turned to face Armsmaster as Danny Hebert spoke, ″Armsmaster, what can I do for you? Is there some problem with the load or invoice?″

For the first time, Armsmaster looked uneasy. If he'd been anyone else, Taylor would have expected him to be wringing his hands. Being the leader of the Protectorate ENE, he just stood there almost brooding. After a moment, he spoke, ″Mr Hebert, Miss Hebert, I need to inform the two of you of a situation that affects you both.″

Taylor's eyes narrowed as her dad asked, ″What situation would that be?″

Armsmaster said, ″It's regarding Sophia Hess. Shadow Stalker.″

Taylor couldn't help the sudden rush of words that exploded from her. ″What about that psycho? She's back in juvie, right?″

Armsmaster shook his head. ″No, Miss Hebert, she is not. Sophia Hess, on the day she was supposed to be apprehended and remanded back into juvenile custody, escaped. She has been at large ever since.″

If Taylor was angry, her dad was absolutely furious. ″Armsmaster, are you saying that a Parahuman who has made death threats against my daughter not only escaped custody, but you have hidden the fact from the very people who are most at threat from her? For over two months?″

Armsmaster seemed to almost deflate as he stroked the beard visible beneath his mask. ″We did not hide the fact. Shadow Stalker's escape was kept under the tightest possible security while we attempted to find and arrest her. It's been more than sixty days, however, making her apprehension increasingly unlikely. I wanted to go ahead and alert you both to the possible danger.″

Danny Hebert abruptly stood up from behind his desk, his chair crashing to the floor behind him. He pointed toward the door and almost shouted, ″Get out! Get out of my sight right now before I do something I'll be arrested for.″

A moment later, Armsmaster was gone, the door quietly closed behind him.

Taylor had watched as her dad basically ordered the most powerful member of the local Protectorate from his office, something which she wouldn't have minded doing herself. Seeing how upset and angry Danny was, she moved around his desk to give him a hug.

″What a bastard,″ Taylor whispered as her dad hugged her back fiercely.

″Language. Tony's definitely been a bad influence on you.″ Danny's voice was teasing, but Taylor could tell his heart wasn't in it.

So Sophia Hess had escaped justice and was running around somewhere. Taylor doubted she remained within the city as it was unlikely even the PRT wouldn't have found her by now if she had. No, it was far more likely the other girl had disappeared somewhere into the vastness of America. Somewhere she'd be unknown and unidentified. Somewhere safe.

Eyes cool and distant, Taylor decided it was time that she and JARVIS made that safety an illusion.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Jim Nelson gave his appearance one final look in the mirror, then nodded his head. He'd cleaned up okay. The strong-jawed man in the mirror wore a camel-colored sports coat and darker slacks, along with a simple dark brown dress shirt and gold-toned tie. It was a familiar look, albeit one that he hadn't worn for some time.

Leaving the guest bathroom, Jim closed the door behind himself. He made his way into the living room and settled onto the sofa to wait for his wife. Hopefully, it wouldn't be a long wait.

Not that Jim particularly minded waiting for the woman who had always been the love of his life, ever since he'd been a callow fifteen-year-old sophomore in high school. He still remembered the dark-haired girl that Sara had once been, all leashed energy, flashing eyes, and vibrant smiles. What she had seen in him then, Jim didn't know. What he'd seen in her had been partly hormones and partly a feeling of rightness so fundamental that he had never once questioned it in all the intervening years.

After all, Jim had married the girl who became a woman during a time when his city had still been going strong. He loved her throughout those years, even as his city began its gradual decline, jobs, and so much more, lost to a kind of urban decay that he didn't have a solution for. After all, he'd never been much of a problem solver. Especially not those types of problems.

No, Jim was a hard worker, first and foremost. Tireless and diligent, it had allowed him to rise to his current foreman status within the Dockworkers Union, even on the strength of only a high school diploma. And for a long time, it had been enough.

But with the decline in the city, and the decline in the job market, so had come a decline in the availability of work for a foreman, even one as hardworking, diligent, and skilled as himself. So Jim had worried, first about his pride as the breadwinner of the family, then about money, and finally about the future of his and his wife's lives here in Brockton Bay.

Now there was a light on the horizon, one that had only grown brighter as things darkened around him. That light was HTech, his buddy Danny's new technology firm. The jobs the company was providing, the money being pumped into the local economy, all were things that spoke of a brighter future.

After all, how many times had Jim gone out to eat with his wife in the last three years? Anniversaries didn't count as he'd always found a way to pay for those. Otherwise, the two of them had stayed home as they simply couldn't afford to spend money that was earmarked for groceries, their mortgage, or to pay the bill that kept the lights on.

Again, this had all changed with HTech. Now Jim could afford to take Sara out to a nice dinner, maybe followed up with a little romance. Hell, his energy levels had been steadily rising along with his excitement and sense of pride as the contracts to dismantle the Ship's Graveyard had come through and everyone had gone back to work. Now they were even hiring again, stealing back some of the younger guys they'd lost to the gangs.

Of course those same gangs had struck back. Jim felt the slow burning sensation in his lower gut as carefully suppressed feelings of rage tested the bars of the cage he kept them in. Finally they subsided as the discipline of years of keeping his temper won out. But Jim didn't forget those feelings.

After all, HTech was helping the city. Helping the entire country if certain rumors were to be believed. Still, the gangs had attacked them. Had tried to tear down that bright tomorrow that the company seemed to stand for. And had utterly failed in the attempt.

Jim couldn't help the sense of triumph that filled him as he thought about how easily the ABB, Empire 88, and the Merchants had been handled by HTech's security. He'd seen the scenes on the morning news, broken and bleeding bodies carted off in ambulances, while high tech drones hovered protectively above. Of course, he'd also seen the devastation wrought against the company as the outer walls of the manufacturing complex showed holes and scars like some scene from out of the CUI or one of those African shitholes.

Still, the company's workers hadn't lost even one day's work as HTech had scrambled to shore up their facilities, shifting work to anywhere and everywhere it could. And they were already back to manufacturing within their main facility only days later.

Jim and his fellow dockworkers wouldn't forget who was responsible for the attack. Nor would the other people he spoke to within the city. Everyone, from waitresses to dry cleaners, had begun to slowly benefit as the money from the new jobs and contracts trickled down through the economy, easing everyone's lives. Making them able to breathe again.

Those people seemed to feel that same sense of anger that Jim did towards the gangs that were slowly trying to choke the life out of their city. He suppressed a smile as he contemplated some gangbanger ordering food in a restaurant or drive-thru, not realizing the person who waited on him had likely spit in his food, or worse, showing their contempt and hatred for those who would play fast and loose with their livelihoods.

Then Jim's thoughts came to a screeching halt as a vision walked into the room. Standing there, inviting admiration, was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Jim could no more control the besotted smile that creased his features than he could stop breathing as he took in the sight of the love of his life, ready for their night on the town.

Meeting those flashing eyes with his own, Jim decided that no matter what, he would never allow his city to falter again. Never allow himself to lose this sense of pride in himself and the things that mattered more than life itself. No matter what it took.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Colin stood in his laboratory, absently turning one of the famed Psionic Dampeners over and over in his hands. But his mind was not on the device he'd so desired to gain another example of, but on the woman... no, AI, who'd confessed her identity to him.

There was a sense of bitterness in Colin's heart as he wondered why? Why had Dragon told him what she was? Over and above the possible dangers of exposing herself to anyone, why had she done so with a man like him? Why had she tempted Colin at such a pivotal moment in his life with such a obvious weakness? Didn't she understand that he was obligated to report her? To expose what she was to the merciless and unrelenting focus of the PRT?

How could she expect him to do anything else? Colin was what he'd always been, a man of enviable abilities, but one whose reach exceeded his grasp. One who saw others with not even one tenth of his work ethic exceeding his accomplishments, which drove a spike of anger, envy, and bitterness so deeply into him that sometimes it felt like he could barely breathe.

Now Colin possessed a secret that would secure his leadership of the Protectorate ENE for the foreseeable future. One that would allow him automatic forgiveness for all but the most grievous errors. He would be Teflon for a long, long time. It was just one of the many reasons, both selfish and not, that he should immediately dial Director Costa-Brown.

Absently, Colin noted the faint chime as his communicator registered a request for a connection, likely from Dragon. But he made no effort to fulfill that request. There was no one he wanted to speak to right at that moment. Any real emergency would see his passive refusal overridden, the call automatically routed to him, but for now, Colin just sat, thinking deeply.

Four times in the last hour Colin had almost called Director Costa-Brown. Four times. Each time, he'd talked himself out of doing it, even as his fingers punched in the digits of her phone number. He simply couldn't bring himself to complete the act.

Dragon's words haunted him. A leap of faith, she'd called it. Despite believing he already knew the answer, Colin had looked up the phrase and found the resulting explanation hopelessly naive and idealistic. How could anyone truly believe something like that? How could they totally trust their lives and existence to another, someone who hadn't shown they could be trusted to that degree? How could Dragon believe the things she'd said about him?

Did Dragon understand him so well that she knew Colin wouldn't report her? Yes, they were friends. Or had been. Yes, Colin had... feelings for the other, feelings that even now kept the muscles in his chest tight despite his biofeedback training. But he would not betray all that he had accomplished for anyone, not even Dragon.

Colin tossed the Psionic Dampener to the worktable's surface, then berated himself for being so cavalier with the precious technology. He had to make a decision as soon as possible or he wouldn't be able to get any work done, hopelessly complicating his schedule.

But how could he decide to... Colin squared his shoulders and faced the hard truth as he asked himself one simple question that weighed so heavily in opposition to that he would gain. How could he betray someone who'd been his friend for years? It was as simple as that.

Then again, how could he not follow procedures that had been laid down, if not for exactly this situation, then for others that weren't dissimilar? Could he truly abandon his responsibilities for the sake of something as nebulous as... friendship?

Ever so slowly, Colin typed the number of Director Costa-Brown into his PRT phone. Then he hesitated as a familiar chime began sounding. It was Dragon, calling him yet again. Lifting his chin, he made a decision. Ever so slowly, feeling as if this one choice was a turning point for his entire life, Colin firmly pressed a button.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~