[Snippet] Surviving in a World of Magic and Superheroes (Worm/Fate): Chapter 22

Frederick looked over the paperwork as Lancer drove him through town.

Ciel wasn’t with them.

Ciel had already gone off and started scoping out her target. He didn’t know if she would accept an ‘assassination’ request from him if she wasn’t directly affected. But either way, he was grateful that she was being so cooperative.

He wasn’t going to look over her shoulder.

When people worked together, you had to have a certain level of trust in their abilities. The trust between them right now was…flimsy still, but he couldn’t just be paranoid, or otherwise that flimsy trust would snap before it could become firm.

That, and he knew that she was an expert.

Despite his annoyance—as that was putting it lightly—disregarding his reveal, he recognized that she was in fact a professional.

He didn’t really have anything to add that would make her be more productive.

He was…some stupid Magus kid, comparatively.

What knowledge of assassinations did he have compared to her?

The most he could do was give her all the information he had on Coil—Thomas Calvert.

He set the paperwork in his hands down and reached into his pocket to pull out his new Mystic Code.

It almost looked like an old sailing ship-era bronze compass at first glance. It was a dial if one wanted to simplify the mechanisms that it physically operated under.

It was heavy, in a good way.

Made of bronze and other materials. There were Greek runes and symbols etched into it that were barely visible if you looked closely.

The spell structures were well hidden so another magus couldn’t peer at them with just plain eyesight.

Within it, the twelve Greek constellations shimmered to light.

The Earth is presented at the center, surrounded by the planets of the solar system, including the Sun and the Moon.

And in a ring around that, the twelve constellations glowed with their connecting stars forming the images.

Model Cosmos: Hellenic Firmament – Kyklos Ouranos.

Or just Kyklos Ouranos.

Depending on the interpretation, it could mean Circle of Heaven, or Cycle of Heaven.

The weight wasn’t just from its material components.

The heaviness came from the new reassurance he had from holding onto it. It made him feel just ever so slightly safer.

And it was a symbol of hard work from him. He wouldn’t deny that Ciel played a big role in helping complete this prototype, but he felt like it was his creation.

His Magus Pride bubbled up to the surface whenever he saw it.

Putting it back into his pocket, he looked over the paperwork again, where he left off.

Frederick had his uncle send him the paperwork on what he owned of the docks so far. It was a bit more substantial than he anticipated, which worked to his benefit.

He realized fairly quickly that Brockton Bay didn’t have a proper harbormaster for years. It was the title someone down at City Hall held because the city was required to have someone with the title, but it held no authority these days.

Since the docks had essentially gone dark, it wasn’t needed but still required.

That both hurt and helped him.

Port security was nearly nonexistent.

Technically, the docks were still open, and there were a few ships coming and going throughout the year at Terminal D, the furthest dock terminal from the center of the city. 

Frederick was skeptical of why that was.

Frederick, more or less, owned the first three terminals.

Terminal A - The Container Terminal.

Terminal B - The Industrial Cargo Terminal.

Terminal C - The Municipal Shipping Terminal. 

It was more of a technicality thing on these because the land was owned through a few subsidiaries and fronts, but it circled back around to him eventually. It didn’t take much effort to put them fully in his name on paper either.

Though the terminals had been leased in perpetuity to the city some decades ago, and the city had been paying for them every year.

They technically belonged to Frederick because the city defaulted on payments for the last several years, which, in the contracts, dictated that ownership and rights fell back onto him.

It’s ironic. He had thought he was going to have to go through the lengthy process of getting the entirety of the port under his thumb the hard way. He didn’t even know that he had such a significant claim over the ports.

Frankly, his uncle didn’t know either until he specifically started looking into it. The downside of having assets scattered so thoroughly is that over decades, things may get lost or forgotten from one generation to the next.

Frederick wasn’t even sure if his father knew about their ownership over these terminals. Such that they never bothered to respond to the breach of contracts.

Another thing on his plate was to consolidate all his assets that had been scattered to make sure he wasn’t missing anything.

He would have his uncle begin the process once they get things sorted on the ground.

That left Terminal D—The Commercial Shipping.

The Commercial Pier was owned by a private entity that he asked his uncle to look into. And attempts to reach out to them for discussions about buying the right or outright buying the terminal were stonewalled.

It was odd for many reasons.

One, why would someone other than himself clutch onto a failing port?

Second, it coincidentally is the only terminal that isn’t heavily affected by the boat graveyard.

Three, the city had leased out the harbor inspections to a third-party security company years ago. 

That paints a certain picture.

But as callous as it was to say, Frederick didn’t give a shit about their illegal activities at this moment. If they stayed out of his way and didn’t ruin his plans, he would let them keep operating in the dark.

Unfortunately, being unaffected by the Boat Graveyard was almost solely because it was a much smaller port.

It wasn’t made to house freighters. It handled significantly smaller ships and smaller cargo, but in greater numbers.

It was unfortunate for Frederick, because it was more or less useless to him as things stood.

All of this led to his first, and perhaps, biggest hurdle.

The Boat Graveyard.

Some time ago, the shipping here—and in most places for that matter—was taking a major hit. The works were protesting the loss of work that was gradually diminishing in the wake of a global shipping decline.

Things got heated, and it ended with several captains abandoning ships in the bay. It sounded like an insignificant issue, but many of them ran aground or started to sink. It blocked entire ports and prevented anything from coming in or going out.

The city just simply didn’t have the continued infrastructure to deal with it while the shipping was already on a steep decline.

Some could call it the final nail in the coffin for Brock Bay’s shipping municipality.

Despite many arrests made, the docks are still mostly blocked off by half-sunken, run-aground, rusted ships.

So for very obvious reasons, shipping couldn’t return until it was dealt with.

The funny thing is, Frederick wasn’t a businessman by his own admittance. He was a Magus first and foremost, so he was going to use the most direct method to solve the dilemma.

Even to the detriment of his finances.

Money.

It was still going to take awhile even if he threw money at the problem, but at least he could get the ball rolling and focus on other things.

But that also led to a rather annoying predicament.

That was who he had to now interact with.

He wasn’t too keen on meeting Daniel Hebert, but now he was on his way to his office.

@***@

“Master, we have arrived.” Lancer stated, pulling into a parking spot and turning the car off.

The Dock Worker’s Association.

It’s a big name that Frederick recognized in various media he indulged in when reading in his past life. Yet, realistically, it held very little importance to anything in this city.

It was a warehouse converted into a set of offices connected to a few bigger warehouses.

Perhaps it was a kneejerk reaction, but he felt like the less he got involved in the life of the ‘main character,' the better for his sanity and continued peace.

Regardless, he was going to suck it up and get business taken care of.

Realistically, he couldn’t go through his plans by avoiding the Dock Worker’s Association. For one, they were an actual union that comprised nearly the entirety of the dockworkers that remained.

For two, they had a lot of agreements with the city when it came to work and hiring at the docks.

It would have been a nightmare to navigate that while trying to snub them.

And lastly, Frederick simply didn’t have the infrastructure, time, or energy to handle massive hiring projects or coordinate people to take care of the projects he needed.

There were people ready and willing to work; why wouldn’t he make use of them?

The outside was in…disrepair, to put it nicely.

Frederick scrunched his nose, looking at the large fence that was barely being held together. It was supposed to be the barrier between people coming and going freely to restricted areas, but he was fairly sure he could just pull apart some of the metal mesh and sneak in without using any magecraft.

Graffiti too was a huge problem.

Frederick could see where there were layers of graffiti that were attempted to be painted over, but more was just added on top of that.

There was a smell too.

Frederick resisted the urge to cover his nose. A look up showed exactly where it was coming from. Dozens of seagulls are flying around in a circle and, presumably, leaving their droppings in the same spot they had been doing for years.

Nobody just cared enough to clean it up.

And the salty air of the ocean wasn’t even to cover up the smell either, though it seemed to make it carry on the wind even more.

It was pretty much the poster child for systematic decay in the city.

Frederick ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back before adjusting his collar.

There were a few people around, of whom they shot him looks. Curiosity, confusion, and skepticism. He could guess that people generally don’t roll up to the Dock Worker’s Association in an expensive car and a suit and tie like he was doing very often.

And his plan had somewhat worked.

From what he could glean, they didn’t point and shout about the 'wizard.'

It was amazing what a simple change of clothes and a shifted hair style can do.

He was sure if he stood here, things would click into place, but that was besides the point.

That, and he was also sure most of the attention was taken by Lancer. It was almost impossible to ignore her presence even as she stood there doing nothing.

He opened the door to the offices, the public entrance, holding it for Lancer as she smiled faintly at him.

It was somewhat uncomfortable. Frederick guessed the A/C wasn’t working, but this close to the ocean, it at least wasn’t unbearable due to the temperatures.

There was a desk center out in front, like one where a secretary would sit, but from the looks of things, it hadn’t been occupied for a very long time.

He was aware they were barely hanging on, so they probably haven't been able to pay a secretary for ‘unnecessary’ work for a long time.

There was a little sign, pointing an arrow down that said ‘ring for help,' and a button on the desk connected to what he figured was a buzzer.

Frederick pressed it, hearing the slight hum coming from the other side of an office door.

“Is that you, Derrick? I told you to wait, I was—" The door swung open, and the man himself came flying out like he was about to shout at someone, but the words died in his mouth the moment he set eyes on the duo.

Frederick gave him credit, because it only took him a split second to recognize him.

“You’re the wizard?” Daniel Hebert blurted out.

Maybe it was because his daughter was so involved, relatively speaking. Or maybe he was just good at recognizing faces due to his job.

Frederick didn’t let the words get to him, despite being called a wizard starting to grate on his nerves.

“Mr. Hebert, I presume.” Frederick spoke.

“...yeah?” The man immediately took that sort of stance, like he was waiting for shit to hit the fan or like he was evaluating if jumping out the window would be a good method of running away once something happened.

“I’m here to speak with you about hiring some workers.” He got straight to the point.

“We don’t take illegal jobs.” He replied immediately and firmly.

Frederick raised an eyebrow because he had heard that Daniel Hebert was a hardass and had a temper, but it was surprising how quickly that came out at the perceived notion of whatever bad things it was he was assuming.

The guy wasn’t particularly intimidating. He looked like a normal middle-aged man who had spent his life doing a bit of harder work rather than entirely sitting in an office all day.

“I assure you, it’s not anything illicit.” Frederick deadpanned. “Can we go into your office and speak?”

“Jesus, you’re my daughter’s age, you go to her school, you’re a kid.” He rubbed his forehead. “What –”

“Mr. Hebert," Frederick interrupted. “Shut up.”

The man looked positively stunned that Frederick was so blunt. He was not used to a kid telling him to explicitly shut up.

Frederick took a deep breath. He recognized how it looked from the other side, from his perspective. A kid waltzes in, saying he wants to hire some people for work, a kid that literally goes to school with his daughter.

His first reaction wasn’t strange.

“I have ownership rights over Terminals A, B, and C.” Frederick wasn’t even going to be coy about it. “Are you going to invite us into your office or not?”

There was another split second where his eyes dilated in recognition. 

It was rather absurd to say, coming from someone Frederick’s age. Yet, Daniel was sort of blanking at what to say because as absurd as it was, he for some reason didn’t feel like Frederick was lying.

In fact, what was the point in lying?

Silently, the older man moved to open the door, holding it open for them.

Frederick didn’t say a word as he walked inside, and Lancer followed him. A single chair sat opposite the man’s desk, in which Frederick took a seat.

Daniel Hebert, still skeptical, still hesitant, moved to his side of the desk, sitting down with a clear reservation about everything that was happening.

Again, without a word said, Frederick filtered through the papers he was holding, then slapped a few onto his desk before leaning back, crossing his legs.

Daniel furrowed his brow, picking them up. With every word he read, his expression slowly changed until he eventually set them down and stared incredulously at Frederick across from him.

“Do I have your attention now?” Frederick asked.

Daniel’s head dropped into his hand. “Jesus Christ, a kid in high school owns most of the docks.”

It was a very hard claim to believe, but if the paperwork was accurate, he could refute it. IF is being a strong word here, but in what world would a high school kid roll up to the Dock Worker’s Association with false paperwork, claiming this absurd lie?

It was even more ridiculous to assume he was lying for some convoluted reason.

At the end of the day, it was a response of a man who realized his life’s work was in the hands of a kid his daughter’s age.

Frederick placed the paperwork on his lap, interlocking his fingers before letting out a short sigh. “Now, as I was saying before. I need to hire workers.”

That snapped him out of his self-imposed wallowing. He raised his head, looking at Frederick. “You’re –”

“If you’re going to say I’m a kid again, I will immediately leave this office and never hire a single member of your Union. I invite you to contemplate my financial status if you understand how extensive my ownership of the docks is.” Frederick cut him off again.

His mouth snapped shut, as he very clearly was going to say it again. It was how to reconcile his reality with a kid his daughter’s age coming in and saying he owns the docks and wants to hire people.

“You’re—" Daniel Heberted started again as Frederick raised an eyebrow. “Allowed to hire my workers?” He phrased it awkwardly, tip-toeing around the presumed landmine that was placed in front of him.

Frederick didn’t get upset.

He was annoyed before, so he threatened him, but he wasn’t going to lose his temper at a valid question. “I understand your concern about my age.” He acknowledged the elephant in the room. “My parents died a few years ago. I am legally emancipated. For legality reasons, I am an adult.”

Daniel was silent for a moment as several beats passed. He digested that information, as if accepting it for now.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” The middle-aged man said politely.

Frederick was, admittedly, slightly taken off guard by that. Not in a bad way, and if anything, it lightened the mood significantly. “Thank you.”

However, there was another beat of awkward silence that followed before Daniel opened his mouth again.

“Winslow –”

“No.” Frederick cut that line of question right off. “Mr. Hebert. I would like to make it clear I am here in the capacity of someone wanting to hire workers through your union, a business deal. That is the only identity you need to worry about. I am not forcing you; I am not going to threaten you; I am not going to blackmail you. It is a simple proposal because I need some jobs taken care of. Jobs that will pay very well and require a lot of hands. If this is not acceptable to you, then I will find workers through my own means.”

Daniel was silent again. He was doing his best to navigate this strange situation, so the pauses were not something Frederick was condemning him for.

“How many jobs are we talking about?” Daniel hesitantly asked.

“Hundreds. Perhaps more.” Frederick, in all honesty, gave a conservative estimate.

Mr. Hebert sucked in a cold breath of air. 

“I’ve looked into you, Mr. Hebert," Frederick started. “The Dock Worker’s Association as well, and you by extension.” He didn’t want to make it sound like he had someone dig into the man’s past.

“The Dock Worker’s Association is, politely, hanging on by a thread, which can be attributed to you, grabbing both ends and doing your best to make sure it doesn’t snap.” It was a partial compliment on Frederick’s part. “You are only supposed to be the head of hiring, yet your direct boss doesn’t exist. The boss over him is vacant. Almost all the lateral positions around you are empty as well. There are only a few higher-ups still remaining, and they don’t take any active part in the running of the association. They appear once every month, pick up a paycheck, then disappear again. You’re wearing nearly every hat that’s needed to keep this place running.”

For many people, who wouldn’t want their hard work and years of effort to be recognized? But at the same time, Frederick was laying out the simple fact that the Dock Workers' Association was a functional rotting mess that could collapse at any moment.

Frederick didn’t rely on only his previous knowledge before coming here. Such a thing would be utterly foolish, and he knew that he couldn’t trust the supposed ‘meta knowledge’ absolutely.

Surprisingly, some of it was accurate.

Daniel Herbert more or less was the reason the Union hadn’t fallen apart. Not because he was some messiah of Union reps descended from the heavens. But for the simple fact that he was doing the work of several people—several different job titles—all at once while also being paid a pittance.

He was supposed to only be the head of hiring, yet he was also HR, operations manager, payroll, city liaison, union representative…the list could go on.

Frederick, in some capacity, found it admirable in a way.

“What exactly are you looking for, Mr…” Daniel said slowly but trailed off at the end.

“Verde.” Frederick helped. “My goal is to clear out the Boat Graveyard, Mr. Hebert.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the older man’s eyebrows shot up. “Then, I’m going to get the docks up and running again. I heard you’ve been wanting the ferry to reopen; I’ll support that too when the bay is cleared out.”

Despite what it may seem, the ferry wasn’t some tourist attraction or something just for sightseeing around the bay area.

It was a method to travel from one end of the city to the other relatively quickly, easily, and cheaply. 

Not many people live near the docks. A significant number of people live on the direct opposite side of the city, next to the bay as well. It’s where a large amount of cheap housing resides, and so, many of the dock workers here.

Without the ferry, they have to commute the hard way through the city.

Simply taking a bus from one end to the other, it probably takes close to two hours on a good day.

The older man brought his hands up and rubbed the temples of his head. “Let’s…for argument's sake, say I believe you.” He spoke evenly. “Do you…even understand the logistical nightmare of clearing out the boats? They can’t be salvaged because they’re technically still private property, and the city has refused to cut through all the red tape to handle it.”

Frederick didn’t immediately respond; he instead shifted through his papers again before finding the right one and setting it on the table.

Daniel Hebert grabbed it and started reading over it.

“I’ve already had estimates taken, at least the preliminary ones. Optimistic estimates, perhaps, is more apt.” Frederick stated, as Daniel continued to read. “You don’t need to worry about cost. I offer business, but I am not a businessman. My goal is to clear it out, not make a profit by doing so. As for the technicalities or questionable legalities surrounding removing them or salvaging them. If the owners want to sue, Let them. If the city wants to fine you, let them. I’ll cover it all; just worry about getting the job done.”

Daniel slowly set the paper down.

There was a look on his face, the look of a man coming to a realization that the crazy talk being spoken to him wasn’t so crazy with evidence presented right to his face.

There was a simple question to ask after that.

“Why” He looked across his desk at Frederick. “You said you aren’t a businessman.”

"Would you like a polite lie or the blunt truth?” Frederick responded, presenting him the choice.

“What’s the polite lie?”

“I’m altruistic by nature and have a significant amount of money.”

“And the truth?”

Frederick leaned in. “Mr. Hebert, I am not a wannabe warlord. I am not some kind of gang leader. I am not a hand in the dark secretly controlling the underworld. But this is my city, and I will be cleaning it up one way or another.”

Frederick felt like he had a read on Daniel Hebert.

The man wasn’t someone you played coy with, or that you danced around the subject or spoke half-truths to try and win them over.

Direct and blunt was the way to go.

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but slowly closed it a moment later, going deep in thought.

The fact of the matter was, what did you say to that? Then the polite facade fell when there was no plausible deniability to assert anymore.

“You would need to hire a lot of people. Hundreds, like you said. ” he finally spoke, watching Frederick’s reaction very closely. “I would need to start hiring in mass again.”

“I’ll leave that up to your discretion. But I have standards, Mr. Hebert. I understand that not all workers are…at the top of the societal ladder. But I will not tolerate them bringing their problems to work. I don’t care if they do drugs or they go home every night and get black-out drunk. If they’re working on my pay, they will be doing it properly.”

There was another short pause. He didn’t argue with that point; he didn’t dismiss it or even defend his workers.

“We would need a lot of equipment. Specialty equipment as well. Tugboats. Special licenses to operate some of the equipment.” He listed off.

“Send me a list of what you need. If you have sellers lined up, I’ll look at those too. If you want some of your own people to get licensed or go through the processes of accreditations to operate heavy machinery, set it up and send me the bill.”

There was a strange flicker of emotion across his face. The two worlds of "this sounds too good to be true" and the growing acceptance or belief that something he had been dreaming of for a long time was maybe becoming a reality.

There was a moment where he wanted to say something but hesitated slightly before hesitantly voicing it. “The docks aren’t entirely…safe. There’s a gang that’s been growing not far away. We’ve always had some trouble with some types coming to try and steal some machinery or whatever to sell. But it’s gotten worse recently.”

Frederick found himself smiling.

He appreciates a hard truth over a pleasant lie.

He silently increased his evaluation of Daniel Hebert for being open about this, despite the fact that Frederick basically knew about this beforehand.

“If they see that we suddenly have new machinery, that we have hundreds of new hires….” Daniel Hebert trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish that statement.

It was a valid concern.

“I’ll hire private security.” It was a simple, albeit expensive answer. His eyes widened slightly, perhaps in realization at just how much money that Frederick was willing to actually spend.

“I heard they have capes.” The man said quietly.

“I’ll take care of it.” Frederick said simply.

Daniel Hebert wanted to ask what he meant by that, but his instincts told him not to follow up on it.

Frederick got up, taking out a few more papers and setting them on Daniel’s desk. “My number is here. I included my own considerations, estimates, or thoughts. I have no doubt that I’m missing things, missing nuances of the work, or just ignorant of many small details. I will be counting on you to correct any mistakes or misconceptions you have. When you’re ready to talk details, please call me.”

With that, Frederick simply turned around and left.

He knew that Daniel was probably overwhelmed, so he would give him time to decompress and think about everything more clearly.

But Frederick wasn’t concerned.

It wasn’t a deal he could afford to reject.

It was simply a matter of when, in the next few days, he gets the call.

So, he planned his next visit.

He said he would take care of it, but it would probably take some time to hunt down all the parahumans of the Merchants and remove the gang as a problem.

In the meantime, in addition to hiring a proper security firm, there was another option available to him.

A group of parahumans in the city who operated as open mercenaries.

If he recalled, they hung out at a club called The Palanquin.

@***@

A/N

Frederick’s first foray into his mission of cleaning up his city. Getting the docks under control was a priority.

So it beings, Frederick is now making moves throughout the city and setting things up. So, I obviously don’t have real knowledge on Dock management or whatever, I’m not going to overly worry about the specifics, but something is just  egregiously wrong, I will correct it. Otherwise, I’m just kinda not worried.