10

Chapter 10: Ripple 2-2

Beta'd by BigCC.

"Damn you Sophia!" – Speech

'Why Emma?' – Thought

Ripple 2.2

+++Waterworks+++

The Next Day

Armsmaster's Lab, The Rig, Brockton Bay

Collin Wallis, otherwise known as Armsmaster the Tinker Hero, would be the first to admit that social interactions were not his particular forte. Of course, he would also quickly add that he viewed most of those same situations as wastes of time that could be used more productively in his lab.

Sadly, his ambitions for advancing up the ladder in the National Protectorate required a certain amount of socialization on his part. So, with the help of Dragon, his best friend and a fellow Tinker whose level of ability he deeply respected, he had constructed a social interpretation interface function into his helmet to help guide him through the mire of social double-speak.

It also worked as a lie detector, though reaching an acceptable level of accuracy with that function was still very much a work in progress.

"Colin, the Director wants to see you." Dragon, coming through over his lab's speaker system, quickly jarred him from his analysis of his newly modified helmet.

Straightening up, Colin forcefully suppressed a growl of irritation at the interruption. It wasn't Dragon's fault that Director Piggot always called him in the middle of one of his Tinkering sessions. "Has she said what it is she wishes to see me about?" he asked aloud.

"No, just that she would appreciate it if you could see her in person as soon as possible." His friend said apologetically.

In person. That meant this was either important, classified, or he'd done something to irritate her again. Usually the encrypted communication lines and visual conference system he'd built into his lab were enough to handle most discussions, but operational security (or Piggot's temper) still demanded face-to-face meetings.

It also meant he'd have to ride into Brockton Bay proper, spend who knows how much time on needless formalities and actually dealing with whatever issue it was, and then ride back to The Rig. That would likely eat up most of his assigned 'Tinkering Time' for the morning and he was on the roster for patrol this afternoon as well.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Colin nodded. "Tell her I'll be on my way."

"I'm sorry Colin." The digital image that Dragon preferred, a young woman with absolutely average features and mousy brown hair, looked at him sadly.

"It isn't your fault Dragon." He shook his head. "Could you do me a favour while I'm out and look over the code again? I'm…well, you know what I'm like with social situations and I'm fairly certain I've gotten a few of the response algorithms wrong based on my own predispositions."

"Of course Colin." Dragon's image nodded. "Should I correct the errors and send an e-mail to your account or just the latter?"

Colin frowned in thought for a moment. He usually disliked having others so much as touch his inventions before they were completed but…"Change them. I trust you, Dragon." he decided with a small smile. Dragon looked happy, so he considered that a successful social situation.

As he changed into his armour, he briefly wondered why it was that he was better at social situations with mature Tinkers than he was with other Parahumans or even immature Tinkers. Until Dragon explained to him why it was Kid Win had almost had a nervous breakdown, he hadn't understood why pushing the boy so hard was a bad idea.

Assault, formerly Madcap, teased him about his work ethic, but that was simply because the dynokinetic did not understand what being a Tinker was truly about. Unlike with almost any other type of Parahuman, the equipment that a Tinker created was absolutely and completely vital to their ability to fight, especially when their specialty wasn't as…grandiose as some others. Miniaturization and efficiency were not an especially dynamic or destructive power set, so he had to be sure everything was working at 110%, 24/7, in order for him to fight on the same level as people who could shatter concrete with a pinkie and outpace a cheetah without breaking a sweat.

Making the most of his specialty had been something he'd been learning to do since he first joined the Wards. His choice of signature weapon was an excellent example of that. He could pack literally dozens of useful gadgets into the haft of a halberd and still have it strong enough to resist a blow from the Fenja/Menja twins.

Though that ridiculous nickname that some Wards (and people on PHO) had coined for him because of his choice was rather irksome at times.

Ha. 'Halbeard' indeed.

As he exited the private elevator that connected the personnel parking area on the lowest level to the rest of the rig, he couldn't help but smile as he caught sight of another example of using his specialty to its fullest. Even Assault agreed that his motorbike was a work of art. It had more horsepower than any commercial or racing motorbike, a compact gyrostabilizer that prevented it falling over while the engine was running, encrypted wireless that linked to his armour and built-in sheathes that could carry and deploy several of his halberds at a time.

It also had silent running, for when he didn't need to intimidate people with the roar of an engine, which tended to make long drives far more pleasant without the need for ear protection.

He couldn't keep the slight smile off his face as he felt the machine roar to life beneath him. Pulling out, he slowly drove toward the exit, which apparently consisted of only a metal toll gate separating the rig from a roughly hundred foot drop into the Bay. That is until one of the remote sensors built into his bike beeped and the 'Driveway' activated, creating a flat plane of hard-light just over 15 ft. wide with a small barrier on each side reach just over 3 feet in height.

The 'Driveway' hard-light projection system was old, built by one of the Brockton's first resident Tinkers named Hardlight (who had died in a battle against the Behemoth when Armsmaster was still a Ward) for both security and emergency evacuation purposes, but it had been religiously and thoroughly maintained. The system was automatically activated three times a day for change in personnel shifts, and was set up to allow all stationed personnel a quick way to evacuate without having to rely on a ferry.

As a Protectorate Cape, he was one of the few who had access to a remote activation rather than having to wait for a scheduled one.

Pulling into the PRT's underground car park, the IFF he had in his bike automatically opened the wall that led into the concealed area that housed all of the vehicles used by members of the Protectorate, which was mostly just him and Miss Militia. Assault and Battery could get around without transportation, the same for Dauntless thanks to his flying boots. Velocity went without saying. Triumph was too new to have an idea whether he wanted a bike or not, but if he did, no doubt the PR Department would want one that went with his costume.

Minutes later, Armsmaster sat in a conference room with Miss Militia, Director Piggot and Deputy Director Renick. Emily Piggot had once been a front line Parahuman Response Team Trooper, until she had been grievously wounded during the Ellisburg Debacle. Now she was almost criminally obese due to the damage done to her kidneys and she refused to 'waste Panacea's valuable time with a frivolity.'

What that actually meant was that she was still nursing a heavy distrust of all Parahumans, born after the Capes in Ellisburg had fled, leaving her men to be slaughtered. That being said, she was pointedly and scrupulously fair to all of her subordinates, saving her rancor for parahumans who actively abused their powers. The last time that had happened, the Cape in question had been transferred to a Simurgh Containment Zone indefinitely.

"So Emily, what's the reason for the emergency meeting?" Renick asked tiredly. He had brown hair and was a somewhat handsome man wearing a basic suit, though his were bloodshot and he had noticeable bags under them as well. The man was clearly dead on his feet.

"Last night, a new Parahuman revealed themselves." Piggot answered shortly. She shuffled some papers in front of her. "Ten members of the ABB attempted to rob an electronics store, only to be stopped by this new Parahuman. Here are copies of the report."

Armsmaster took the folder and scanned it. A fairly standard ABB robbery party, ten men including one low-level gang lieutenant. They had, naturally, smashed the closest security cameras and the data storage system for it. There were no offsite backups of the data, so that was a wash. The new Parahuman, a vigilante, had systematically taken down seven of them, limiting the damaged dealt to only a few bruises. Three had fled and the Parahuman had let them to retain the other seven. The Parahuman had stayed to give a statement to the police and then left.

"It seems we have a competent vigilante on our hands." Miss Militia observed. "I'm seeing a distinctly short series of witness statements here, Director."

"Yes. The seven captured ABB have refused to discuss anything aside from the name of the Cape who captured them…Riptide." The Director stated. "From what the two officers who met with Riptide have put in their reports, it appears we have a new Tinker in the Bay."

This caught Armsmaster's attention. "A Tinker? Is there any video evidence from the police car?"

"No." Piggot frowned. "Riptide, who uses a voice scrambler so we have no idea if they're male or female, was very careful to stay out of sight of the squad car's dash-cam, and the only camera that could have covered that area was broken several nights ago, likely in preparation for this robbery. From the vague descriptions that both officers gave, Riptide wears a form of blue unpowered armour, with weapons mounted on the arms. Additionally, Riptide had an 'odd contraption' of some sort on their back. That is basically all we have at this point."

Which was substantially less than what they knew about most new Capes after their first outing, Armsmaster knew. Rookie Capes generally had substandard costumes, next to no idea about the Cape scene other than what they had read on PHO (substantially wrong, for the most part) and generally cocked up by almost getting killed on their first outing.

In this case, it had been a mixture of fortuitous happenstance, some caution and a lot of back luck on the Protectorate's part that meant that Riptide was virtually an unknown in regards to equipment. Armsmaster was good but the incredibly vague descriptions that he was reading now told him virtually nothing about the equipment, other than the fact that it was indeed Tinker made.

"There is also this sketch of the faceplate of the armour Riptide was wearing." Piggot slid it over for the perusal of the Capes. "Apparently the eyes glow blue."

Both Armsmaster and Miss Militia peered at the sketch, which showed a mask that vaguely resembled a metal skull.

"Opinions?" the Director asked.

"The mask is designed, at least in part, to intimidate." Miss Militia stated tapping the crude drawing. "To strike fear into those who see it. A couple of seconds of hesitation would give the wearer all the time in the world to launch attacks before they can recover."

"The visor also likely holds a form of HUD, allowing Riptide to view the status of her weapons, if her armour actually has any built in." Armsmaster added, his own helmet had a similar system that linked to both his armor and several of his halberds. "As it covers the face entirely, and this mask seems to be part of a helmet, it would not surprise me if she had a rebreather or even a breathing apparatus connected to an internal air supply."

His own helmet could be fitted with such a mask, but PR reigned supreme in the Protectorate and as such, they had to 'show they were humans, not Stormtroopers' to quote Glenn Chambers. That meant showing some facial features, such as mouths or hair whenever it could be helped. The only Ward who got away with not doing so was Shadow Stalker, and that was only because she had a 'pre-established image' to work with, and she had stubbornly refused any attempts to rebrand her.

Piggot tapped the picture again. "Renick, your opinion?"

"Whoever it is, I doubt they have any intentions of joining the Wards or Protectorate." Renick offered tiredly, as he rubbed his eyes. He paused for a moment, clearly fighting back a yawn. "If they had wanted to do so, they would have come in immediately after they managed to build something that could prove they were a Tinker. What worries me is that we haven't heard anything from the Overwatch Initiative we have set up in the Bay and yet this Riptide character clearly managed to scrounge enough together to build a suit of armour and at least one form of weapon as well. That leaves us with three options: 1) There's a hole in the Overwatch that we need to find, 2) Riptide has access to some preexisting store of supplies and raw materials or 3) they have backers. And I'm worried that 3 is the likeliest bet."

"You suspect that this Riptide may be a new member of the Merchants or Empire?" Miss Militia asked doubtfully. "The name doesn't fit either of their naming conventions."

"Neither does 'Cricket' but she's a member of the Empire regardless." Piggot responded simply, a frown on her lips. "I confess to being hesitant to rule Riptide a villain without more evidence than a lack of it to the contrary."

"Especially not after only a single outing, with no showing of excessive force, and without having some of our people question them in person." Renick agreed tiredly, rubbing his forehead absently. "I was merely playing devil's advocate, Emily. You must admit that it would take quite a bit of serendipity to become a lone Tinker without triggering our Overwatch Initiative."

"It has happened before, Deputy Director." Armsmaster stated. "Mostly with minor Biotinkers, but it has happened. Dismissing the possibility is unwise."

"Agreed." Piggot nodded sharply. "I want all Protectorate members briefed on the general description of this Riptide and instructions given to make friendly contact."

"And the Wards?" Renick asked.

The overweight woman regarded the very brief profile, which included an estimated height. "With this height, Riptide is likely to be in their late teens, so past Wards age. Still, there are people who are taller than average…very well. Issue the same orders to the Wards. Make it especially clear to Clockblocker that he is not to act the fool or he will be on console duty for the next five years."

Armsmaster grimaced. Clockblocker, ever since his debut, had a habit of pushing the rules of decorum to their limits. He knew that the boy was a lot smarter and sharper than his clown-like behavior would lead most to believe, much like Assault was.

Having to deal with the both of them at the same time was almost as bad as dealing with Mouse Protector back when they were both Wards themselves.

"I'll tell him myself." He promised.

"Good. Dismissed." Piggot ordered briskly. "I have to go on dialysis now, so you'll have to excuse me."

The fat woman stood up and walked carefully towards the door, leaving.

"Deputy Director, I'm advising you that you require sleep, urgently." Armsmaster stated as his helmet's built in scanners analysed the man's state and brought up several warnings to his visor's HUD. "By my count, you've been on duty well beyond regulation hours."

"Had to deal with new regulations coming in from the National PRT." Renick grunted as he forced himself to stand. "Damn it…why are they piling more work on us that keeps us from doing our jobs?"

Miss Militia and Armsmaster exchanged looks. For the past few years, fewer Capes were being assigned to the Protectorate ENE and a fair few promising heroes had been transferred out, with only the native-born Brocktonites not having that risk. On the PRT side, they had been given less equipment and personnel than a city with the Parahuman population that Brockton Bay had deserved, which was ludicrous.

The Empire 88 alone outnumbered the current Protectorate and Wards combined, even with the PRT backing them up. That ignored Lung, the Dragon of Kyushu, and Oni Lee, not to mention the Archer's Bridge Merchants, the Undersiders, Coil, and the other minor players active throughout the city.

Although Armsmaster had been grateful for the promotion, he was aware that he was not the best choice to lead the Protectorate in the Bay. Miss Militia did not want to be in a leadership role, Assault was too irreverent, Battery too uptight, Velocity too low-key and Triumph had still been far too new at the time. He was simply made leader because he was both willing and had experience, a fact that still irked him sometimes.

Despite having only recently joined the Protectorate, Dauntless showed more leadership qualities than he ever did. The younger Parahuman was charismatic, sociable, and had a head for politics, all qualities that Armsmaster, much to his frustration at times, did not possess. There was a reason he'd selected Dauntless as his chosen replacement in case he was rendered unfit for duty (or worse) over several of his more senior peers.

"We'll get through it like always." Miss Militia soothed the exhausted Deputy Director. "Now, get someone to drive you home. The last thing we need is for you to collapse and get hospitalized."

With a nod and a jaw-cracking yawn, Renick left, almost staggering out of the door and closing it behind him.

"Do you think the Director will try the same tactics she used to recruit Shadow Stalker?" Armsmaster asked his designated Second-in-Command.

"Unlike Stalker, this Riptide character actually seems to understand the word 'restraint.'" The former child soldier shook her head. "Not only is there no evidence to use against Riptide, there's no reason to follow the same tactics and potentially alienate a possible ally. There's no pressing need to get a murderess off the streets."

The fact that technically, Sophia Hess, Shadow Stalker, hadn't meant to kill the skinhead she had staked to a wall was irrelevant. She had done it and given Emily Piggot all the excuse she'd needed to order her brought in and practically press-ganged into the Wards. While some would call it a severe reaction, it had been as much for Shadow Stalker's protection as anything else. Involuntary manslaughter or not, the Empire would have hunted Stalker down and killed her for killing one of their members had the Protectorate and PRT not stepped in.

The girl herself didn't see it like that though. She bucked, pushed, and twisted the rules whenever and wherever she could, trying to make herself as independent of the other Wards as possible and constantly tearing them down verbally. Vista, one of the friendliest and most open people Colin had ever met, refused to go on patrol with the other girl.

That was a big an indicator of just how toxic Shadow Stalker was, even without her contempt for the Protectorate and its rules.

"I'll write up the briefing. You can go back and finish your Tinkering in peace." Miss Militia told him with a smile that he only saw due to her eyes crinkling.

"Thank you." He said gratefully. "I'll see you at six."

Heading back down to his bike, he sighed. Armsmaster disliked relying on unscientific feelings such as 'instinct', 'guts' and 'impulse', but he did believe that experience could also lead to almost instinctive reactions to stimuli the active mind couldn't always consciously perceive. Right now, that 'experience' was telling him that something was going to happen soon, and it was going to be big. That meant had had better get his new upgrades in order.

With a specialisation in miniaturization and efficiency, the early days of his career as a Tinker had been a constant and heady high of success and growth. Every upgrade, every new device, every tweak, had helped refine his fighting capabilities and make him that much more effective. Now, it was taking more and more effort and research to create any real growth in his abilities. He was beginning to fear he'd plateaued and was fast approaching a point of diminishing returns.

It was only thanks to his friendship with Dragon that he had been able to work on a couple of new projects that might immeasurably add to his combat potential. The nanothorn project would hopefully allow his halberd's blade to cut through almost anything, while the far more minor miniaturized expanding containment foam grenades (plus launcher) would save some room on his bike for other, more vital equipment.

The drive back was relaxing, which was something of a surprise. Ever since his Trigger it had been growing steadily harder for him to relax when he wasn't involved in Tinkering. If it was a particularly complex project, he couldn't even sleep until it was completed.

Evidently he had discovered a way to relax. That was useful. He'd have to tell Dragon.

When he got back to his lab, Dragon was still there. Her image looked up and smiled.

"Colin, how was your meeting?" she asked. "I was just about to send the e-mail with the corrections I made to your program. Do you want to hear them instead?"

"That would be nice, Dragon." Colin said as he took his helmet off. "After that, I've got some interesting news for you…"

+++Taylor+++

Another day, another bout of shopping. It really was bizarre how much food, cleaning products and other things we went through when there was just the two of us living in the house. Maybe I should cut down on experimenting with different dishes a bit?

The various shops I went to were, for the most part, family-run businesses. I was a frequent customer and they sometimes gave me a good discount on what I bought if it was the last in stock of a particular produce or if they were close to their expiration date. Thanks to that I'd been able to keep our food expenses low.

Being weighed down by bags of food and the like wasn't good in a city like Brockton, so I had splurged on a wheeled bag carrier. It was a fairly big one, so I could haul a fair amount of food and stuff around…although it got pretty heavy if I filled it to the brim.

Like it was right now.

"Stupid…heavy…bag!" I grunted as I dragged it up to my house. I remembered about that rotten step this time and managed to avoid it, but Dad was really going to have to do something about it at some point.

Despite my current irritation, I was still walking on air after my takedown of those ABB grunts last night. I didn't know what the PRT or Protectorate were thinking right now, and frankly I didn't much care. I was undeniably a hero and there was nothing Sophia could do about it.

I still didn't know if the heroes knew about what Sophia had done to me, and a part of me was scared to find out. On one hand, if they knew what Sophia had done, then they were guilty of doing nothing when a psychopath was torturing people. On the other hand, if they didn't know what she had done, then they were incompetent and complacent.

It worried me a bit that I honestly didn't know which option was worse.

Once I finished putting away all of the groceries and other purchases, I sat down and did my schoolwork for the day. I had thought in the beginning that the lack of a classroom environment would hinder me, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Rather, without having to worry about my peers sabotaging/pranking me, I was sailing ahead in the material. In all of my classes, I was ahead by at least a few weeks. If things kept going this well, I might be able to test for my GED by the end of the year. At worst, I'd be able to get it after my next birthday.

Of course, a GED was just the start. I would need to do something to make Dad believe I was preparing for a proper job, one that didn't involve me going out and fighting villains, so I'd likely have to sign up for some college courses as well. Computer programming was something I was quite good at, if I do say so myself, even before my Trigger, and I'd only gotten better since. So that was a good option.

I could easily get a place near the Boat Graveyard (it'd probably be cheap too) and 'work from home' using a PC. A lot of people liked laptops, but I'll admit that I was a bit old fashioned in that regard.

What frustrated me was the sheer amount of work that it was going to take to accomplish all of that; time I could be spending training my powers or building my tech. I could see the appeal of joining a team for stuff like this.

Once my work was done, I sat back and thought about the issue I had with my Goop Grenades and the fact my power was being a snob in regards to grenade launchers. Just about the only grenade launcher I knew about from watching films was the single-shot grenade rifle thing that Arnold whatshisname used in the Earth Aleph Terminator films, the M79. While it obviously did its job, it was a break-action reload type and only fired one round at a time before you had to reload it.

Way too inefficient to meet the needs of a heroine in one of the most crime-ridden cities in the US.

Researching the subject on the internet netted me several types of grenade launchers, including the M79, but most of them were the type used by a team of at least two soldiers. Then I hit the jackpot. There were two mass-produced grenade launchers that fit my needs. One was the Milkor MGL, while the other was RG-6 grenade launcher. The main reason these were my choices was mainly because quite a few of the others had no pictures. Both fired 40mm ammunition and both used a revolver-like 'barrel' to hold the rounds.

Thanks to my 'Magic Bottle' technology I could create a round as small as a bullet that could hold an entire oil barrel's worth of liquids, so size was a nonissue. I could even create a special gauntlet to supplement my current loadout. No…my gauntlets are already full to the brim with weaponry as it is. So then…maybe a mounted, turret-like addition? Yes…one linked to my HUD so I could visually track my targets and fire it with a verbal command.

Before I knew it, I had a design sketched out on my pad. It looked good. Hmm…I could also make it collapsible, so that when I wasn't actively using it would blend in perfectly with the rest of my shoulder armour. With the right parts and adjustments I could have the deployment time down to a few seconds before it was online and ready to fire.

Having two, one on each shoulder, would be optimal, or perhaps a secondary form of turret-based weaponry. Ooh, if I adjust the base mounting like this, I can make them interchangeable and could remove and replace them with different weapon designs as needed. You can never have too many weapons in a city like the Bay.

I also sketched out plans for a machine that would automate the process of mixing my 'Goop' so I wouldn't have to take away valuable Tinkering time to make new batches. I was also thinking ahead for if/when someone other than Dodge eventually gets to see my workshop. Pointing out the machines that turned water into Goop would definitely divert attention from thoughts of me possibly being a hydrokinetic.

Dad got back fairly late, but he'd warned me a while ago that that was going to be a possibility with the recent projects going on. Luckily for us, the guys at the Dockworkers Union knew he had a teenaged daughter and made sure to pack him off home before he fell asleep at his desk.

Once he had eaten his dinner (a rather nice hamburger) and was snoring away in his bed, I headed off to the Evermore. The first thing I did once there was do a quick stock check of my remaining raw materials. It had taken a bit more than I had expected to build the generator I'd designed, but I'd also gotten more out of the trade with Toybox than I'd been expecting. In the end I was easily able to determine that I had more than enough left for both of the little projects I had in mind.

Miniaturization was not easy, but thankfully my Tinker specialty of 'I can do it so long as it has anything to do with using, processing or containing water' made the tech possible. At the end of a couple of hours, I had a pair of motorized, collapsible, detachable, miniature grenade turrets mounted on the shoulder plates of my Triton armour.

Being a Tinker was the Best Kind of Bullshit!

"Mistress Riptide, you have a message from Dodge of Toybox, requesting a meeting at your convenience." Amphitrite informed me calmly after I finished. "The message was received five minutes ago."

"OK…send a message back that if Dodge wishes to come over, he can do so in…five minutes." I said after checking the time. I then donned my armour, turned on the voice scrambler, and headed to the bridge of the Evermore. I really had to think about changing the name of the ship, as it certainly wasn't the same ship as when I first set foot on it. Something nautical, but not necessarily Greek like the rest of my names…eh, I'd give it some thought, as I only had a success rate of 1-in-3 when it came to naming things.

"Yo." Dodge greeted me when he teleported in. "Whoa, that's one seriously scary mask you've got there."

"All the better to keep the criminals in line." I answered with an unseen smirk. "So, how can I help you?"

"Let's get down in your workshop proper first." The Rogue Tinker said with a nod towards the door.

Deciding not to make an issue of it, I lead him down there.

"I notice that you've got a collapsible backpack of some sort there." He said as we walked.

"Hydrokinetic wing system, plus water-powered jet propulsion." I filled him in. "It's quite useful."

"I can imagine." The red-costumed Tinker muttered in disbelief. "You do realise how ridiculously broad your specialty is? I may have under-rated your Tinker abilities."

"It has its uses, but most devices I make are things I can do far easier with my hydrokinetic abilities." I answered with a small shrug. "My Tinker abilities are mainly used for me to conceal my real powers from the scrutiny of the PRT."

"Sensible." Dodge said. "Drought is thinking of retiring, according to the grapevine. The scrutiny that the PRT puts on him is really starting to get to him, apparently."

The message there was clear; I was very much in the right to be wary of letting my actual abilities known. Good to know.

"So, what's with the sudden request?" I asked once we got to my main workshop. "And since when can you message Amphitrite?"

"To answer in reverse order, your VI started an e-mail account a couple of nights ago that she then sent her own greetings and a request to use that for non-vital communications between you and us." The Movement Tinker stated. "While none of our VI have any evolution capability, there are certain functions that become active when a certain amount of time passes after the transferal of ownership and some other criteria."

"What kind of criteria?" I asked suspiciously.

"If we sell a VI to a Tinker, one example is that they will not address you with respect until they witness you using your power to build something." Dodge explained. "That is more of a little prank on the part of Networker, who writes the VI. But anyway. To the reason for my visit."

He leaned against the wall and continued. "As you know, Toybox is a group of Tinkers who does not take part in any sort of conflict, not even the Endbringer battles. We mutually support one another and we sell our tech either to the highest bidder or act as intermediaries to the few independent Tinkers that exist outside of hero and villain groups. Someone has come to us with a request for an engine for a yacht that doesn't use fossil fuels. None of us are really suited for this kind of request, but then Big Rig suggested offering the commission to you, since your specialty and this request seem to mesh quite well."

I was taken aback. "I'm…flattered, but isn't this a request for Toybox?"

"In the case that Toybox has no Tinkers with the specialty necessary to complete a job request, we instead act as an intermediary to any Independent Tinkers we have an acceptable working relationship with who might be able to do so in our stead." Dodge said with a nod. "We negotiate with the Tinker in question and discover what the price they might ask is, or we communicate the initial offer of the client to the Tinker. Toybox takes a 5% cut of any monetary payment as a brokering fee. If necessary, we also pay the Tinker for materials if, as in this case, the request is very much abrupt."

Marshalling my thoughts, I focused on what I was going to ask here. I didn't have any problems with making something for cash, but I was nervous about who I would be building it for.

"It isn't a villain or criminal who asked for it…is it?"

"Oh no." Dodge shook his head immediately. "While Toybox itself refuses to take sides in the whole hero/villain game, we at least respect the positions that other Independent Tinkers might take, so we only give jobs to heroic Tinkers that are either from heroic-inclined or neutral clients, while villains deal with villains or neutrals. Keeps things civil and prevents any contracts from getting unnecessarily complicated."

It was a system that made sense in my opinion. I certainly wouldn't have anything to do with any villains wanting my tech. Well, villains like the ABB, Empire 88 or Merchants anyway.

"So how much is this client willing to fork out for their engine?" I asked.

"An initial offer of seventy-five thousand dollars." The other Tinker rolled his eyes. "He thinks that a newbie Tinker wouldn't know that that's chump change for what we can make. We argued him up to twice that."

"A hundred and fifty thousand dollars?!" I felt my jaw unhinge slightly at the amount, luckily my mask hid most of it.

"Minus Toybox's 5% cut, yes." Dodge nodded. "That works out at $14250 for you. If I'm making the right calculations here, you should have used up quite a few supplies to build a generator."

"Yeah…you guessed it would happen?" I said, somewhat embarrassed.

"Eh, it's a rookie mistake. Fresh Tinkers have a bad habit of getting so swept up in a project we end up putting the cart in front of the horse at times. Didn't warn you since it's one of those lessons you have to experience firsthand to really get it to sink in." Dodge shrugged. "I made the same kind of mistake, so did most of Toybox."

"OK. Next time I'll budget for a generator first." I said in slight mortification. I really should have thought about building my base first rather than my armour. Tunnel vision at its best, I suppose. Live and learn.

"So whaddya think?" the Toybox Tinker asked.

"Well…I'd need to see the size needed as well as the thrust and speed requirements." I said hesitantly. "Also, will the engine be powering the whole yacht or will it just be used for propulsion?"

"I have the basics here." Dodge said, pulling a folded piece of printer paper out of a pocket in his costume. "Also, it's just propulsion; the client has a regular engine for the rest of the boat's power. He just wants an engine that will not cost him a bomb fuel-wise."

That made me frown. "I can make a specific mix of chemicals that acts as the catalyst to turn water into fuel, but only I can make it."

"Good. Then you have the monopoly on it and thus a dedicated customer." The older Tinker said simply. "That's a good business strategy. If you make it so the engines parts include modular slots so any broken or worn parts can be easily taken out and replaced, it would make you even more money."

I froze. That…that was such an obviously useful idea, not just for this project but for the rest of my equipment, that I felt like hitting myself for not thinking of it earlier. If I could build modular weapons units and have slots in the gauntlets…

Dodge clicked his fingers in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Sorry. You looked as if you were going to start tearing your armour apart."

"Stupid Tinker Fugue." I muttered.

"Yeah. It sucks." The red-clad Tinker said sympathetically. "Now, given the dimensions of what I've given you, do you need more materials or can you build it with what you've got?"

I returned my attention to the paper he'd given me, unfolding it and scanning everything written on it. I let my Tinker out to calculate everything.

"I can build about 85% of it with the materials I have on hand." I said after a moment. "If you give me a minute, I can give you a detailed list of what I need to finish it."

"So you're taking the job?" I could tell Dodge was smiling.

"Yup. Tell the client that his engine will be built by the Waterworks." I smiled. It really made a better organisation name than a Cape name.

"A false name for a fake group to hide who you really are…clever." Dodge admitted. "How long do you think it'll take you?"

"About three…no, five days." I said with a frown. "Due to my situation, I can only work during the night, which slows me down a bit. The design I have in mind is fairly robust and easy to build for me, but it will mean taking time away from my own projects. Ah well. It'll be good practice for when I replace the Evermore's engines."

"You actually plan on making this ship mobile again?" Dodge asked with what might be realization in his voice.

"And submersible. And flight-capable." I grinned beneath my mask, feeling almost giddy at the half-formed project. "Not to mention armed and armoured to the teeth. It never hurts to have a getaway plan."

"Oh-ho! Very clever." Dodge smirked. "Now let's talk business…"

By the time he left and I went home, I had finished building the basic frame of the engine and prepared several parts to be placed when I got in the next night. Even with the cut Toybox was taking, and the money for the materials to finish the engine, that was a nice large nest egg to sit on. Dodge had also asked for some of my Replacium (I still hate that name) so Toybox could spruce up more than a few areas of their base that had fallen into disrepair. That deal had earned me some more materials and tools.

I would build. I would train. I would do everything I could to become stronger. I would fight. I was a hero, after all.

+++Waterworks+++

The Next Day

Office, Unknown Location

The room was designed like a fairly ordinary office. Granted it looked to be a fairly expensive one, like that of some high-level executive, but still ordinary for all that. Bookcases, rugs, painting, etcetera, etcetera. The one thing that was out of place in the room was the basic office desk that was the centerpiece of the room. It had had a computer tower unit, keyboard, mouse and monitor, not to mention mounds of paperwork, on its surface like any office desk, but the desk looked as if it had been bought from a garage sale several decades ago.

Which was precisely what the person sitting in the chair behind said desk wanted people to think. He wanted those who saw his desk think he didn't care for where and on what he worked, despite the opulent surroundings. The desk had actually been bought brand new and carefully aged artificially to look old whilst still being 100% solid.

A rather simple mind-game, but the man who owned it loved his games in all their forms.

The man in question was dressed in a black skinsuit that was tight enough to show individual ribs. A white serpent wound its way up one leg, around his abdomen, up his back and coiling around his head to rest on his forehead. He was skinny and tall, which was why his ribs showed.

The Parahuman Coil, otherwise known as former PRT Squad Captain, now Contracted Consultant, and Founder and CEO of Fortress Construction Thomas Calvert, regarded the sheet of paper in front of him. It was a very sparse report for holding such important information, he reflected.

Tinkers were one of the two most sought-after types of Parahumans, along with Thinkers. Coil himself was a Thinker, and he had 'convinced' another, Sarah Livsey/Lisa Wilbourn, to join him. He also had received information of a very young Trigger who was quite possibly THE most powerful precog on the planet that he planned to add to his little organisation.

Well, most powerful after that bitch Contessa, anyway.

Cauldron, he mused, was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, they had given him his power of [Parallel Cognition], allowing him to view two possible futures based upon a choice between one decision and another. It made him virtually unbeatable as a strategist, because it gave him two bites at the apple, as it were. On the other hand, he had exhausted enough capital to bankroll any three Parahuman warlords in Africa for half a year with the amount they had charged him. Plus the mere fact they knew about his power made them a threat to him.

To return to the subject at hand, this 'Riptide,' who had stopped a petty little robbery the night before last, had been more than slightly frustrating to both the PRT and himself. Unlike that idiotic, drug-addled fool Squealer, there had been no signs of someone raiding the junkyards for parts, or buying used TVs at second-hand stores.

As most Tinkers had the impulse control of an addict on withdrawal when it came to building their tech, this meant several possibilities. One, that the Tinker power Riptide possessed was so weak that its impulses to disassemble and reassemble tech could be suppressed. Two, that Riptide had already found backers. Three, that 'Riptide' was an Independent or former Protectorate Cape who had rebranded. Four, that the new Tinker had already been 'recruited' by one of the gangs or other groups in Brockton Bay.

The last was the easiest to discover, as Coil had been working to place moles and informants into every major power in the Bay, as well as many of the minor ones. As such, he was fairly certain that the Empire did not have Riptide. Racists were so easy to bribe and control. Play a bit to their idiotic preconceptions and they'd dance along like puppets on a string.

On the other hand, he KNEW that the ABB had recently acquired a new Tinker; the psychopathic Bakuda, who had held Cornell University hostage. He wished the Dragon of Kyushu luck with keeping that bitch under control. A bit of research had revealed several clear signs of an ego the size of the continental United States, along with a constantly clashing inferiority complex and superiority complex. She wanted everything and everyone to acknowledge that she was the best and yet a part of her whispered that she was not good enough, which constantly goaded her to prove herself wrong and made her see insults and provocations where there was none. Her rebellion against Lung was only a question of when, not if.

As for the Merchants, they had a Tinker already, one that had possibilities. If properly used, Squealer's vehicular specialty could be immensely powerful and useful. Sadly, the white-trash fool was completely besotted with Skidmark and was addicted to enough drugs that her blood chemistry looked more like a pharmacy's inventory. Simply put, she was damaged goods that would take too much effort to obtain, control and repair to be worth the effort. She was also jealous of her position as the sole villainous Tinker in the Bay (the moronic L33t didn't count in anyone's opinion) and of the Merchants in particular to permit a possible rival.

Plus all the gangers would be gibbering about it. No sense of operational security, those morons.

This left the lesser powers in the Bay. He doubted Über and L33t had the competency to do anything like backing a new Tinker without something blowing up. Faultline had that strange obsession with Case-53's and had never really needed one, let alone shown interest in acquiring one, so he doubted it was her Crew. He had the Undersiders and the Travelers under his thumb and in his pocket respectively, so he KNEW it wasn't them.

The rest were not worth considering, as they either weren't led by or had a Parahuman, or they were neutral, like Parian.

The other options in his little list were equally as unlikely. No Tinker power, however weak, was ever able to be suppressed for longer than a couple of weeks, tops. If Riptide had been able to suppress it for that length of time, he or she would have gone into a Tinker Frenzy and been revealed to everyone and their grandmothers.

Additionally, potential backers in the Bay with the amount of capital and influence to fund a Tinker were very few in number, and he had secretly been monitoring their finances. None had moved the needed capital for the startup of a Tinker's workshop in the last few years. Thank you, Number Man. You may be an unmitigated boor but you were a useful bastard.

A shame he'd have to kill him one day.

The possibility that 'Riptide' was a rebrand wasn't entirely out of the ballpark, but it was very unlikely. He had access to the Protectorate and PRT's system and no Tinker had left the Protectorate in the last five years. Independent Tinkers were so very scarce and usually either ran to Toybox or were quickly conscripted by either the PRT or the local villains. Just off the top of his head, he could only think of three truly independent Tinkers in America, and one of them was Blasto!

No, this was very likely to be a new Trigger, one who had somehow gotten by both the watchdogs of the gangs and the PRT's Overwatch Initiative to get parts enough to build what was apparently a suit of armour and a weapon that could fire bullets of some sort that left no trace of their physical presence. They also had a certain amount of paranoia and a healthy dollop of luck to have not been captured by any cameras while out.

He could appreciate that sort of paranoia.

He used his own enough, after all.

Although Coil purchased laser rifles for his mercenaries to use from Pyrotechnical of Toybox, having a Tinker under his thumb would be exceptionally useful. If he could draw whoever this Riptide character in with the Undersiders, it was all to the good. If not, he'd discover their identity and threaten them into submission. If that proved unworkable, he could use them as a test run for his soon-to-be Pet.

He had worked too hard to let an unknown variable interfere in his plans now. He had moles in every gang, he had an armed company of mercenaries and he had his power. He was also using Tattletale to discover the identities of all of the villains in the Bay. It was about 60% of the reason that he had forcefully recruited her.

Although her power of [Photographic Deduction] was useful, and his own power worked in a way that could bamboozle it so she couldn't use it to discover who he was, Tattletale was as hard to keep ahold of as an eel and more treacherous than a tiger you were forced to ride on. She had attempted to run over a dozen times since he'd first 'recruited' her, and, after that had failed, had tried at least twice that many times to kill him.

A couple of her attempts had come far too close to succeeding for his liking.

He had considered using her as the test-run for the special cocktail of drugs he was preparing for his pet, but he had decided against it. He'd done a test run of that attempt already with a split timeline. The annoying girl had found some way to slash open her own wrists before the drugs could take effect, choosing death over enslavement.

It really was irritating that she would not fully bend or break.

Well, even if he had to put a bullet in her one day, it wasn't as if her power was truly irreplaceable. If push came to shove, he'd fork out for another Thinker power from Cauldron and choose a random subordinate to gift it to. He would likely have to pay through the nose again too.

Cauldron had guaranteed a hands-off policy regarding his operation. That was all they had guaranteed, that Brockton Bay would be overlooked by them and the organizations they controlled. So far, they had been good to their word. Any further aid would only be in the form of the Number Man's usual services and purchasing additional powers. He would, as Doctor Mother put it, either succeed by his cunning or fail by his incompetence.

He had several plans, all vetted by Accord as doable. The Boston Thinker had made several disparaging comments about the assumptions he made and called more than a couple of the plans 'downright egocentric and foolish' when he had read them, but they had passed his scrutiny, if barely.

Although the likelihood that his future-Pet's power would completely synergize with his power was low, the lure of possibly having a precog that could synergize with his powers to any degree would make him all but invincible. Add in Tattletale's reluctant help and he would rule Brockton Bay, by hook and by crook. First things first though…

"Mr. Pitter." He said into his intercom. "Please have a room arranged for holding a possible Tinker. No electronics other than what absolutely has to be there."

Once the man acknowledged his orders, Coil sat back and thought for a moment about how exactly to go about getting the Tinker into his hands. Several possibilities crossed his mind before he decided on one.

Beneath his mask, Coil smirked.