Sphere 9: This and That

Sphere 9

February 6, 1999

The situation with Catherine hadn’t resolved itself yet. She was still in the dark and my sense of guilt towards that fact felt like it was slowly ebbing. The idea that it was getting easier to lie to my wife was a sickening thought, but it was for her own good.

I had scanned over the local newspapers when I was out of the house. There were jobs available, and I had to restrain myself from taking a random career simply because it would pay something. Any little bit of money would help. There wasn’t any jobs that particularly interested me being advertised. I knew that I couldn’t afford to be picky, but none of the jobs fit my expertise. I knew I was management level, and thus I deserved a management level job. Of course, they would likely only give that job as a promotion, but I knew I would be more qualified then a single one of their employees. I had worked in management for years at Toybox. I would be overqualified for any position I worked in, I just needed to find the right one.

I had stopped my intense scrutinization of the newspaper a few days ago, instead scouring the net for any information on parahumans I could find. Parahuman Studies hadn’t been a class I had taken at college. Most of my knowledge came from secondhand sources, and consisted of tiny tidbits of information that I overheard. Jared has been a fairly reliable source of the latest cape drama before he left. It was a shame I couldn’t talk to him now, it would have been rather helpful.

There was a chance I was a tinker, and it would have been helpful if I could ask Jared about it.

I was reasonably confident I was a tinker, simply because the other option meant I was delusional. I wasn’t delusional. I had checked interviews from people like Alexandria and Hero, and other Protectorate capes. No one was really sure how powers were received honestly. Sure, you could theorize all you want, but either nobody knew what was going on, or nobody was talking about it. A few heroes had given interviews, though. They didn’t exactly all agree, but they seemed to revolve around a similar concept. It always came back to peaks and paragons.

 It was a simple concept, really. You either got powers because you were the best, were the paragon, or you were at the highest emotional point in your life, the peak. None of the capes had explained what they were the paragon of, but it had to be something impressive for people like Eidolon to exist. I, personally, was a fan of neither of those theories. I favored the classic genetics theory simply because there was a lack of other plausible theories to believe. The world was gradually having less of a focus on physical exercise. Fitness wasn’t something that was necessary to survive anymore. I refused to believe that only now had humanity started to reach the status of paragon. However, there were less fit people now then there were twenty years ago. Perhaps paragons were only possible now because fitness wasn’t a universal trait to survive. I had to wonder who or what exactly determined someone as a paragon.

Regardless of how powers were received, the Protectorate had a significant number of capes, a lot of which gave interviews. I paid a lot of attention to the interviews that the Protectorate’s tinkers gave. A lot of them had summaries, and most of them were the typical PR  interviews, but there were a few that actually went into the tinkering process. From what I could gather, just about every tinker got a flash of inspiration, which guided them.

The flash of inspiration information had been what I was looking for. It confirmed I wasn’t having crazed delusions, instead I was having parahuman delusions. Not that the two were mutually exclusive.

I was still narrowing my power down. Trips to the park helped facilitate inspiration. Through them I had effectively confirmed that my tinker power had an environmental factor to it. It seemed to revolve around containers of some sort as well.

I needed to find a way to discretely support a construction company. If I sold hyper durable ceramics to construction companies, I could make a profit from the sheer quantity of ceramics they would be forced to buy. The fact that the ceramics were guaranteed to be high quality and exclusive was also a bonus.

I was getting some insight into the creation of ceramics, but it was a slow process and it required resources. It definitely was easier to envision the mega-cubes, rather then the polymer, which contributed to the slow process.

I had taken to hiding in the park while I tinkered. I had marked off a whole section of it in caution tape. Hopefully that would be enough to dissuade people without letting them know something was up.

There was an old grill in the garage, along with appliances that were either out of style or lacked a place in the house. Assorted lamps and rarely used power tools were easy to take without Catherine raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t fully sure what I was going to need, I wasn’t an engineer, but I would take whatever materials I could get my hands on.

Normally it would be easy to sneak the required objects out of the house. Catherine would be at work, I could just pack them into the car and go. It wasn’t that simple, unfortunately. The neighbors across the street were nosy to an absurd degree. I was somewhat afraid they were planning to kidnap Lori, in all honesty. They kept trying to insist that they would be perfectly capable babysitters, and they also had a habit of asking far too many questions.

Tinkering was hard when you both had budgetary constraints and were trying to stay anonymous. I could theoretically apply to join the Protectorate, but that wasn’t an option. For starters, it would mean a double life. I wouldn’t have the most conventional hours, I would be forced away from home, and it was practically guaranteed I would see fighting of some sort. Catherine would worry for me, and I couldn’t let that happen. Besides, I liked the idea of being an independent contractor. I got to make my own schedule and I didn’t have to worry about people being petty assholes and firing me.

Nepea-5 was a definite issue I would have to work around if I wanted to make any progress as an independent contractor. I’d likely be drafted into the Protectorate and fined if I got caught. I couldn’t let myself get fined, not if I could help it.

The small park clearing I had set up shop in was out of the way. It was cramped and looked like a junkyard with all the assorted goods I had brought in, but it was out of the line of sight from the rest of the park. Despite the miniature junkyard, I was struggling for the resources required to make the ceramics. Preferably I would be able to bake the clay in a kiln or even an oven, rather then being forced to make do with the grill. I could improve the grill to make it work and retain heat, but that required ceramics I couldn’t make without the grill. To even get to that stage, I needed to make clay in the first place. It was doable, just time consuming and slow. I was sacrificing a good bedsheet to serve as a filter while I extracted as much clay from the soil as possible.

I was interrupted by a person clearing their throat. Someone had discovered this place. Shit, I hadn’t prepared my excuses yet, I didn’t think anyone would find me. The intruder was shorter and wore a flamboyant looking cloak. It was a deep blue color, and slowly lightened to a white at the sides. A bright gold lined the shoulders, slowly spiraling to cover them. A high collar and domino mask effectively hid the intruder’s face from clear view. His voice was rich, and tinted with an accent that was completely unplaceable. I would have remembered if I heard his voice before, I felt. “Well well well, this is a fairly advanced setup here.” He made a vast, sweeping gesture to the assorted appliances. “I can see you are clearly going for a theme.”

The cape didn’t seem to be a Protectorate member. Which meant they were a villain. I had performed a brief check of the local capes, and the figure before me wasn’t one of them. I took a slow step back. I hadn’t used the power drill yet, but it would hopefully serve as a decent enough weapon. “It took me years to set this all up. It’s my pride and joy.” I cursed myself. The words had slipped off my tongue before I could stop myself. I needed to play this cool, great it like a... meeting. No, not a meeting, a discussion of sorts. “So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” It was a terrible pun to make in a forest, but laughter and comedy was endearing. People liked jokesters, and I didn’t want to be disliked by the cape in front of me.

“You know, this and that.” That was decidedly unhelpful.

“That’s neat, I was doing some of this and a little bit of that myself,” I said in a somewhat bland tone.

The cape turned both gloves palms upwards, “What a coincidence. Were you doing more of this,” The figure rose one palm higher, “or that?” The cape rose his other hand.

I was growing steadily less confident in my  ability to understand this conversation. I chose a neutral enough answer, “Both.”

The figure frowned somewhat, for the briefest moment, “Both? Well that’s just not efficient.”

I had answered wrong, it seemed. I took a slight step back, inching towards the nearest object the best I could. I wasn’t sure if the cape had a hair trigger temper like some did. “I balance it pretty well. You see, the trick is to make that become this, then focus on this.”

After a moment’s pause, the blue colored cape nodded, “Ah, so you’re really doing this instead of doing both, I see. Still not as efficient as it could be. How about we make a deal, I focus on the that, you focus on the this. We could collaborate.”

What was he saying? It was hard to tell with all the focus on this and that, which were meaningless. What were we even working together on? He had said collaborate, but he hadn’t said what we were collaborating on. “Collaborate?”

The cape nodded, “Collaborate. It means to work together.”

I had almost cut him off, had almost interrupted and told the cape that I knew what he meant. But I had to hold my temper. I didn’t think the cape was one of the brute force types, he didn’t have the body type for that, but for all I knew he could be a copy of Legend. I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could win in a fight against a cape. “I’m sorry, but I can’t think of anything we would both want.” That was a lie, I could think of a few things I wanted, and I was sure the cape before me knew what he wanted.

“Oh, that’s a shame. I have a lot of things to offer. Wonderful, magnificent things. Things like power, glory, fame and wealth. Even mundane and simple pleasures I can offer you, things like drugs. And all I would need in return is a little bit of your time.”

It sounded too good to be true. A small investment for large rewards wasn’t a thing that happened. Still, I had to phrase this carefully. Didn’t want to upset the supervillain by being rude. “My time is valuable, I’m afraid I can’t spare a single moment of it.”

The response was immediate. “I’ll offer double.”

I blinked, comprehending that statement. He was obviously loaded if her was offering double... what exactly? He had never said what exactly he had, just used generalities. It was a like a salesman using buzzwords in the hope that no one realized he was ripping you off. I wasn’t going to call him on his bluff, there was a risk in that. “I’m busy all this week, I have schedule conflicts.”

The blue cloaked cape let out an exaggerated sigh, “Mr. Gramme, you’re acting in an incredibly stupid way.” Fuck, he knew my name. Which meant he was either a mind reading cape of some type, or he had been stalking me. The latter was barely worse then the former, but sent a lot more chills up my spine. “My name is Liege, and I am the head of a large organization. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. My group has been looking to expand to up here, and we have the means to do so. If you joined now, you’d be a founding member of this area’s cell. Your name will have influence, you will have the security you have always longed for.” The speaker thrust his hand out to the side in an overly dramatic fashion, “The door is open, you only have to step through it, Mr. Gramme.”

Security. That sounded nice. It had also confirmed that Liege was stalking me, or he had pried into my mind without my knowledge. I had been fighting for security my whole life, I felt. But what Liege was offering wasn’t security. It had the cost of keeping a criminal life from Catherine. Secrets could tear a family apart. I couldn’t afford to lose either my wife or my child. Yet, this was an offer I couldn’t refuse. Liege had come to me, announced he existed. He expected me to join his gang, or whatever he was running. Refusing wasn’t an option. I couldn’t let myself be kidnapped. I couldn’t let my wife become a widow, my child grow up under a single mother. A pit formed in my stomach, as I talked myself into this. I would get a circle in hell for this. But I couldn’t help it. I was backed into a corner, it wasn’t my fault. It was his fault, really. He had forced us to break the law, he had started Playtime on the slippery slope to ruin that led to the here and now. We weren’t friends anymore. He had made that painfully clear during our last conversation. My attempts to contact him had all failed. Either he was dead, or he didn’t want to be m friend. I could accept him as an enemy if I had to, if it meant my family lived in peace. A hesitant, cautious tone joined my voice, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to close the door, but,” I paused for a few seconds too many, “but I have a counteroffer.” I took a deep breath, steadying my resolve. For Catherine. For Lori. “I know someone who would be interested in your offer. He used to work at Playtime. His name’s Jared.”

A grin seemed to spread across his face. It had a sadistic, predatory hint to it, “Jared Adriandax? He’s already been recruited. There is room for the both of you in my organization.”

What? They had recruited Jared? I think I let out a shuddering wheeze of shock, or some other sound at that revelation. I was going to be recruited. I couldn’t let myself be taken it, I couldn’t let myself become one of Liege’s thugs. I was my own master, I controlled my own destiny. I needed to get out, get away but still side with Liege. “How new is your organization exactly?” I had a point with my question, I just needed to work towards it.

“In it’s current form, it has been around for less then a year, but it is steadily growing stronger with every passing moment.” Liege’s accented voice was one that was filled with determination that would have been moving to a person who bought into what he was saying.


It had been around for less then a year, and it was expanding up to this city. That meant it shouldn’t be very large, or at least not as large as Liege is implying. Which meant the cell in this city would be tiny. However, if it was as large as Liege was implying, then it had moles. “So, how far have your men infiltrated the local PRT?”

“My men are the best of the best. The PRT’s policies might have slowed them down, but they are steadily advancing among the ranks.”

This was it, this was my money to hopefully escape. “I was thinking, I don’t have a strong power. I‘m not a fighter. The only real thing to would bring to your organization is the information I would get if I infiltrated the Protectorate as a cape.” I needed to sell this, to try to cast out any doubt in Liege’s mind. “I’ve been trying to think of a solution to Nepea-5, and I think this is the best way to get around the law. I don’t want to get in trouble.” I wasn’t the biggest fan of the Protectorate. It’s name had been sullied by issues like Butcher III and the Asylum Scandal. Furthermore, it was an organization. It worked for the benefit of the people, I understood that it was good, but it was something I would have to hide from Catherine, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t feel like they would fire a hero, it wasn’t everyday a new one showed up, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t. It was unlikely, but there was no risk as an independent contractor, like I had been intending to become.

Liege stood still in thought, one hand holding his chin as he thought as he considered my proposal. It was obvious he was playing up the role, that he had already decided what he was going to say. “Having one of us as a hero would be great for things like damage control, on top of the information we could gather. But,” a sinking feeling filled my stomach, “you’re a new hero. The Protectorate will undoubtedly give you a name, but you need one while working for me. A way to distinguish and prove your loyalties, a secret name, if you will. I’m thinking of calling you Vassal. It’s a fitting name, I feel.”

Vassal. As in a servant. It was subtle, not exactly outright declaring that he owned me and was superior to me, but implying it. Heavily implying it. He might be superior to me in money, talent, power, and wealth, but I wouldn’t let things stay like that. I would do what I could to spite him, to pry myself from his grasp and declare myself superior. “Vassal, huh? I think someone already took that name.” I wasn’t completely sure about that, but it sounded fairly familiar. It was the name of a cautionary tale that parents told their children. Be wary of strangers, for one might be... Heartstrings. His name was something like that, it had Heart in it. He was a Canadian villain who’d made the news a few times, and his last name sounded somewhat similar to Vassal, although I couldn’t exactly remember what it was.

A grin of sadism crossed Liege’s face, and I started to regret turning down his name. “It’s definitely on the nose, but I find that the word is fairly fitting. And with someone named Hero existing, it’s amazing we don’t have someone called Villain around. You’ll be the closest thing to it, because you’re going to be called Villein from now on.”

I didn’t have time to object. It was a terrible name, worse then Vassal was. It was far too similar to villain, and it was simple enough that it wasn’t hard to memorize the way some of the other heroes were.

Liege stuck his hand out, a winning smile on his face. Reluctantly, I shook it, a sense of grim acceptance and defiance rising up in me. Liege’s rich, accented voice rang clear through the air, it’s undertones of insufferable confidence clear to hear. “Well then, Villein, I officially welcome you to the Elite. May the money flow and our status rise.”