[Snippet] Surviving in a World of Magic and Superheroes (Worm/Fate): Chapter 24

It was rather a strange sight to look at for Frederick.

The stoic, emotionless, and impassive Lancer was standing there as Labyrinth clung to her as if she were afraid that Lancer would disappear if she let go.

He was fairly sure that she didn’t mind either, which made it look even more odd.

Lancer, in return, just put a hand on her head and patted it gently. And Frederick was thinking that this was the extent that Lancer knew how to comfort her emotionally.

Which was progress, compared to when he first met her.

And he thanked…well, her, since she was technically a goddess, that she wasn’t trying to do so by lifting up her shirt.

That would have made things significantly more awkward.

“Elle, why don’t you come here?" Faultline held her arms out, beckoning her over. Her tone sounded polite, but the distinct defensiveness in her posture was hard to miss.

It was understandable, he thought. They—strangers—just came in, did something right in front of her, and now the panicking and inconsolable girl was hugging Lancer like she had just been saved from drowning.

There were a lot of understandable assumptions that could be made here; most of them were not of the pleasant variety.

The girl reluctantly pulled away from Lancer as Lancer also helped her along. She slowly made her way back over to Faultline’s side, where the girl looked even more ready to fight.

Frederick wasn’t going to be offended.

He understood the implications from her perspective.

“What did you do?” Faultline finally got the words out as she glanced at a nearby door.

The barely visible shadow cast under it told me that it was another member of her crew waiting behind it.

Frederick walked around to the front of the chair next to him, taking the seat. “Lancer made it so she wouldn’t be harming herself using her powers for now on.”

Faultline narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by harming herself?”

The thing is, Frederick wasn’t some super genius that knew every subject about everything just because he was a magus. A lot of crafts and higher knowledge did require extensive study and understanding.

He knew about a lot of higher mysteries; he knew about a lot of concepts. But there was a difference between knowing about them and understanding them to an academic degree.

Frederick knew about space and how it operated. He knew enough about it to know how ignorant he was about the higher mechanisms, that is.

So he was able to take several guesses about what just happened based on his overall understanding.

“Imagine you have a power that lets you see behind you.” Frederick started to explain. “Full visual sight, despite your eyes not ‘seeing’ in the direction. How do you think that would work?”

"Powers is bullshit.” Faultline snorted.

“The obvious answer would be to create a new organ that allowed it. But her power went in a different direction; it simply repurposed an already existing organ to do so.”

Frederick paused for a second before continuing as he did his best to articulate his thoughts. “Her…power was doing the equivalent of pulling out her eyeballs to use them to look behind her in this scenario. Replace eyeballs with parts of her mind, and it’s a good enough explanation of what was happening to her. Humans don’t innately have the higher senses needed to operate the concepts she manipulates. Her powers were, apparently, pulling off pieces of her mind—her psyche—what constitutes her ‘mental perception’ and were using those pieces to act as sensors or ‘eyes’ when expanding her spatial-warping powers.”

[Was I close?] Frederick sent to Lancer through their Master-Servant link.

[Yes, that was not inaccurate.]

Though, he was sure it wasn’t entirely correct either. He knew he was being extremely obtuse or vague with his explanation because he himself didn’t know the specific details.

Fautline’s expression changed drastically several times. Was it instant belief? Unlikely, but it was hard to think that someone would make up something so strange to her face like that.

“What did you do to her?” Faultline relaxed ever so slightly, perhaps a subconscious belief in their words.

Frederick looked at Lancer and noted she all but told him to go ahead.

He didn’t want to explain it in her stead if she wished to. 

“Lancer anchored her mind, for lack of a better word. For now, her powers shouldn't be able to pull apart her mind anymore. What that means for her powers going forward, who can say"

“It’s okay, Melanie! I feel a lot better now.” Labyrinth perked up. “I think I can still use my power, so I won’t be a hindrance to you.”

Whatever Faultline wanted to say, the words died in her throat. 

She visibly swallowed and seemed to force herself to not want to say something. 

She took a deep breath and seemed to regain her composure. Years of experience as a mercenary asserted themselves. Whatever questions or concerns were racing through her mind, none of them showed on her face anymore. 

“I know who you are. You’re the ‘wizard’ kid that made the news recently.” She began, doing her best to regain control of the situation.

As much as he hated being referred to that way, he was more than aware that was the image that the public and news had latched onto.

Just like with Danny Hebert, he just jumped right to the chase. “I want to hire you and your group for an extended period.”

Her eyebrows raised.

She wasn’t wearing the mask; she hadn’t been since he arrived. And her companion even named her outright without any hostilities.

Her actual identity was basically public knowledge. It was hard to run a legitimate business behind a Cape persona; likewise, the majority of her team were Case-53s. 

That is, monstrous-looking capes or those who have no degree of costume will shield their civilian identity.

All of this together, everyone basically knew who she was.

“You want to hire us.” She repeated the words. Not that she wasn’t used to people coming to her club looking for their services, but it was different when a kid—someone who apparently was a wizard—was doing so. “I’m…grateful for you helping Ellie—" Her tone relayed that she wasn’t entirely sure if they helped but gave the niceties and politeness anyways. "—But…are you even capable of hiring us?”

The truth of the matter is that, if they hadn’t just presumably helped, earning a smidgen of goodwill and trust so far, she may have not even entertained them.

Because at the end of the day, Frederick was in fact a high school kid, despite any supposed magical powers.

“I’m Rich.” Frederick deadpanned, admittedly making the atmosphere a tad awkward, but he ignored that. “I assure you, I can afford your services.”

Ellie – Labyrinth pulled on Faultline’s sleeve slightly, and the older woman seemed to relent just a tad. “Let’s assume that’s the case then. What exactly are you wanting to hire us for? We don’t do birthday parties; we’re not going to show up to your school to beat up your bullies.”

“The Docks will be getting an influx of new equipment and employees. Currently, there are a substantial number of drug addicts and gang members in the area that will take that as an invitation. The issue is that they’ve been gathering into a new gang with Parahuman leadership.”

She paused as she digested that information.

Perhaps she was expecting something petty or childish, but hearing a genuine job laid out for her took her a moment.

She raised her hands to her face, covering her mouth slightly as she went quiet and contemplative. “We don’t take jobs in the city.”

“You don’t take illegal jobs in the city.” Frederick corrected her.

She leaned back, raising an eyebrow at him as she threw her arm over the side of the couch. “Is there a difference?”

“Illegal jobs would run you afoul of the PRT. Possibly other gangs as well. You don’t take jobs in the city because you want to stay here quietly, for the sake of your ‘civilian’ identities. The job I’m offering you is completely above board, and it side steps any of those issues because you would not be the aggressors at any point, nor breaking any laws.” He responded calmly.

He knew she was testing him. It would be foolish of her not to in this case; as the leader of a band of mercenaries, she had to evaluate each job carefully.

They all looked to her for leadership; they trusted her not to toss them into the meat grinder or take suicidal jobs.

“Private Security.” Faultline is summarized. “You want to hire us to babysit the…docks? The docks are pretty big.”

“The Dockworkers Union, specifically. They’ll be beginning work on removing the boat graveyard soon, which will be loud. As I said, new equipment, an influx of new employees….good benefits overall. The undesirable sort will be tempted.”

She hummed, taking that in. “Okay, let’s assume I won’t reject the job out of hand now. Tell me more about the details.”

“They call themselves the Merchants, from what I’ve heard. They mostly deal with drugs, but their leadership are parahumans."

“I hope you’re not expecting us to play hero and go busting gangs. Even if they’re small-time druggies, the others in the city would probably not be happy with us if we went over there and dealt with them.”

“As I said, you’ll be only playing defense here. If you have to fight, it will be entirely because they attacked you.” Frederick emphasized, knowing that she was poking at his job description to verify it properly.

She didn’t want to become some rich kid’s attack dog, as it were.

“You’re asking for us to be hired as a day job. What are the hours, a normal 9-5? She asked, somewhat mockingly, but still retaining her seriousness. “That’s not going to be cheap. And how long do you expect us to take this contract for?”

“Then let’s discuss your rates.” Frederick gestured to her.

At this point, he knew that she was genuinely considering it. A self-proclaimed rich kid came in and said they want to hire her. After a few back and forths, she deemed it plausible at the very least, despite the strangeness.

“We don’t have set rates. For every job, we have to take into consideration a lot of factors. Time investment, you’re asking us to take up regular hours.” She said first. “Second, equipment: what would we need to do our jobs properly? This could be something as mundane as coffee every morning to stay alert. There’s also compensation for danger, and we usually charge a premium if one of our members gets hurt through no fault of our own.”

To Frederick, that all sounded reasonable so far.

“I’ll cover all medical expenses for the duration of the contract and for any injuries suffered as a result of the job. I will cover any expenses as they pertain to the job. Coffee every morning—" he drawled—can be added to the report. I’ll send actual paperwork outlining it later, but I’ll cover any reasonable expenses. As long as you’re not trying to take advantage of me, I don’t care if you enjoy yourselves on my dime.”

To him, having employees happy and willing to do the work was worth the extra money spent.

And, so far, he recognized her as a professional who wouldn’t try to play any tricks through something like this.

He didn’t expect to see a private jet or something equally ridiculous on a future expense report.

“I expect professionalism in return for these benefits.” He made sure to emphasize this as well. “I will be hiring an additional private security company to handle the more mundane matters of security. Your primary job will be to handle parahuman threats. But I will require at least two of your members to have a presence at the Dock Worker’s Union at all times. To assist with this, I will provide accommodations on site.”

She didn’t immediately respond.

Frederick knew he just threw a lot of new information at her that she needed to mentally compartmentalize before giving a proper response.

“That won’t be cheap either way.” She noted. “And we haven't even gotten to our own price.”

That’s right, they hadn’t even talked about the actual payment yet.

"Six-month minimum contract with potential to renew for another six months.” Frederick started. “I will pay each of your members thirty thousand dollars a month for the duration of their employment. And on successful completion of the six-month contract, I will pay a million dollars. This is in addition to expenses recuperated on a monthly basis and all medical expenses paid. I’ll even cover pre-existing conditions and expenses such as needed medication or medical diagnoses made beforehand.”

It might seem excessive at first glance, but this amount was carefully considered by him. The vast majority of time, they won’t be fighting or doing any real work. They’re a deterrent, a contingency more than anything.

The final million dollars as well—that's both a bonus and the cover for all the expenses they pay out of pocket or reinvest into their mercenary company going forward.

As an organization, there is a need to set aside some amount of money towards it. But also, each individual member needs to be paid rather well to make the work worth it.

Faultline leaned forward, going silent again in another bout of silent and serious contemplation. Frederick watched as she started tapping her foot against the coffee table that sat between them.

“The money is good.” She admitted. “But the fact that it’s still a job inside the city is a problem.”

“How much do you want?”

“It’s not entirely about money.” She spoke.

He had at first thought she just wanted to get him to pay more, but clearly, she was still hung up on her 'rule.'

Well, that was fine for him.

He was holding a trump card.

“How about I add a bonus then?" Frederick leaned back and smiled politely. “You’ve been investigating the origin of Case-53s, right? I’m sure you’ve gotten some leads and know a thing or two.” She narrowed her eyes as soon as he said that, all but freezing. “I’ll tell you all about the ones responsible.”

Before she could say a word, the door behind her cracked, and a big figure fell right through it, with another person falling on top of them.

Faultline let out a sigh. “Gregor, Newter, I’m with a potential client.” She stressed those last words.

They quickly climbed to their feet, looking sheepish.

Gregor the Snail, Frederick recognized him. Large and obese in size, his skeleton was somewhat visible through his translucent skin. He had spiral growths like scabs all over his hairless body. 

The other, Newter, was given the name because of his amphibian-like appearance. He was orange, with finger-like feet and a tail swaying behind him.

“Come on, Mels.” Newter scratched the back of his head, his blue hair falling over his head before he swung it back. “It’s not really a normal job anymore.”

Gregor stood there stoically, not speaking up, but presumably sharing the same opinion.

The leader of their group let out another sigh and turned back towards Frederick. “I don’t know how you know that. But what makes you think you know things that we don’t?”

“Consider my status as you understand it. I know much more about the world than you do.” He said dryly. Perhaps it was arrogant in the way he said it, but he didn’t hold back regardless. “However, I don’t suggest you start poking around too hard by yourselves.”

She narrowed her eyes again. “And why is that?”

“Because they have the world’s strongest thinker on their side that could kill all of you with ease. And she has access to another person’s power that lets her teleport to anywhere in the world. Or other worlds.”

Faultline froze as he said that.

Professional courtesy to treat the information as truthful, or maybe she felt like he wasn’t lying. But the reveal was enough that it made all of her members go quiet as well.

“We have a powerful thinker on our team.” Faultline stated.

“It won’t help. I was not being hyperbolic; the woman is the strongest thinker in existence, bar the Simurgh.”

As much as Frederick disdained Parahumans, he once again had to recognize certain powers.

“If you start poking around too much, she will know. Or perhaps she already knows and is just leaving you alone until you cross a line.” He added offhandedly.

“And if she’s so powerful, then wouldn’t she be dealing with you?” Faultline countered.

Frederick admitted that from her perspective, it was a good point.

“Don’t presume to believe we play in the same game. If that woman foolishly decides to involve herself in my matters, she will understand how insignificant she really is.” He spoke without hesitation or shred of fear on his face.

It was enough to be called absolute confidence.

Faultline found her eyes trailed over toward Lancer, staring at her.

This whole thing started because of her. Yet, Lancer hadn’t spoken another word since this negotiation had even started.

For some reason, Faultline felt a strange sense of fear towards the woman, and she couldn’t place where it was coming from.

The older woman swallowed. "...Assuming what you said is true, then wouldn’t you telling us about them put a target on our backs? The moment you’re gone, wouldn’t we be sitting ducks?”

At the very least, she was humoring the scenario he spoke of, poking out the flaws in it.

“I’ll add a way to turn yourselves into blind spots.” Frederick acknowledged her positions as well and offered the best solution he could think of.

At the end of the day, her method is no different than scrying.

From what he recalled, the woman in question—Contessa—had a power known as Path to Victory. Essentially, she could pick something, an action, a conclusion. And her power would give her definitive steps on how to achieve it.

If, for instance, she told her power ‘Path to Kill Faultline and Her Crew without Suffering Any Harm,' it would give her absolute steps to do so, down to exactly what to say, when to appear, where to dodge, etc.

There are a plethora of ways to avoid scrying attempts. It couldn’t hide them completely, turning them into full-on blind spots that her powers didn’t work on. But at the very least, Frederick thought he could make it so Contessa – the owner of that ridiculous power – couldn’t just waltz in and gun them down.

And the reason he was so confident about her is that, despite her ridiculous powers, there was no way she was able to path Goddess Rhongomyniad.

He wasn’t even sure she could part magical phenomena, much less a divine spirit and the spear she’s holding.

The way that parahuman powers worked, they seemed to operate completely under the umbrella of 'physics.'

He had yet to see any instance or hear about one where a parahuman power interacted with mystery in any capacity.

That’s where his confidence at the moment sprang from.

Creating a few Mystic Codes that distort their presence should be enough to protect them.

He could tell they were somewhat shaken. He just dangled information they were after for who knows how long right in front of their faces.

Case-53s, it was a PRT term. It referred to capes who appeared without any memories—usually with a monstrous or bizarre appearance—and had a single connecting link between them.

A stylized ‘C’ or the Greek letter omega.

It, in fact, stood for Cauldron, a secret parahuman organization working in the shadows.

If Frederick disdained Parahumans, he had complete contempt for Cauldron as a whole. He considered them wasteful and idiotic even if their whole ‘goal’ was to save humanity.

But that was another matter entirely.

He dangled that information right in front of their faces, to know the ones responsible for their circumstances.

But then he went and told them that if they learned the truth, they would probably die.

It must have been a bitter pill to swallow. And oddly, Frederick came off as truthful just because he had no dog in this fight and had nothing to gain by lying to them like this.

Just like with Danny Hebert, he wasn’t going to press them right to their faces. He stood up, straightening his suit. “I’ll send the contract over for you to evaluate. I expect an answer sooner rather than later.”

“Contract?” She blinked.

Frederick looked at her, then scoffed as he understood her confusion. “Did you think I was going to pull back payment in lieu of information? The information is a bonus; I’m not so cheap that I won’t pay for services.”

He was offended that she thought he was going to be having her work for scraps.

“I’ll be in touch.” He spoke as Lancer followed him out of the door.

He let out a breath because he didn’t actually enjoy negotiating like this, and this was twice in one day.

He only hoped that Ciel was having some luck on her end.

@***@

A/N

Fault line more or less on board. As soon as they get over a bit of existential horror knowing that they could have died at any point by blindly stumbling forward while investigating.

I was thinking a Cauldron POV up next. Maybe as well as a Ciel POV doing her thing as well. We’ll see.