12.x (Bonus Interlude; Jamie)

Chapter 12.x (Bonus Interlude; Jamie) Summary (1807 words)

Jamie, feeling skeptical, drove to a remote farm, questioning if she was being tricked. The GPS in her necklace, a gift from her dad, reassured her slightly. Arriving at a dilapidated barn, the final destination from a mysterious email, she waited, growing restless. She began her Tai Chi exercises to calm herself, but no one showed. About to leave, she heard a voice. A dark-skinned woman in a lab coat, calling herself “Doctor,” appeared. The barn’s interior transformed into a sterile, white-tiled space with a glass ceiling and fluorescent lights.

“No names,” the Doctor insisted, suggesting anonymity. Jamie chose her name, a nod to a planned younger sister. The Doctor explained that her employee was relocating this part of her office, and they needed to hurry. Jamie, leaving her car behind, stepped into the transformed space. A rush of wind and a disorienting shift later, they stood in a sterile hallway, reminiscent of an empty hospital. “Welcome to Cauldron,” the Doctor announced.

“How did you find me?” Jamie asked. The Doctor mentioned Cauldron’s methods, hinting they owned fake websites offering tinker-made gear, which Jamie had browsed. “Creepiness is an unfortunate reality,” the Doctor explained, citing the need for secrecy. Revealing their ability to grant powers would invite war and theft. The Doctor smiled faintly at the mention of rival businesses, a subtle evasion that intrigued Jamie.

In a spartan, white room, devoid of personality and even dust, the Doctor outlined the process. They discussed Jamie’s situation, budget, and goals. A two-month waiting period with physical and psychological testing followed. The Doctor clarified that the tests were not to prevent clients from turning villainous. “We give powers to anyone who pays,” she stated, offering to end the meeting if Jamie had ethical qualms. Jamie declined.

The Doctor explained Cauldron’s strict secrecy policy. “Countermeasures” were in place for leaks, tailored to the offense’s gravity. They avoided murder due to the attention it drew, opting instead to discredit and neutralize leakers. Jamie, assured she wouldn’t break the rules, shared her story.

Her father, a detective, had helped capture criminals Ramrod and Fleece. After a lengthy legal process, they were to be sent to the Birdcage, but a mercenary named Madcap broke them out. Jamie, frustrated by this perversion of justice, sought powers to stop Madcap and others like him, to restore a sense of fairness.

The Doctor typed, confirming Madcap wasn’t one of theirs. Jamie revealed she could sell a property for about $730,000. Cauldron offered to buy it directly, expediting the process. With an additional $5,000 from her relatives, Jamie detailed the payment structure: two-thirds upfront, the rest over six years or default, resulting in countermeasures, possibly power revocation. The Doctor clarified that this was done by in-house capes, not through a flaw in the process.

The Doctor presented a graph showing power cost, expected range, and “P” value. Jamie’s budget was low, unlikely to grant the power needed to face a Striker 7 like Madcap. She inquired about “P” and the uncertainty. The Doctor produced a binder with laminated pages, each showing a vial of metallic liquid, a list of powers, and a grid with letter values. Each sample had a common theme, but the powers varied.

The letters “O,” “P,” and “R” determined 90% of a sample’s cost. “O” was for uniqueness, “P” for raw power (PRT rating), and “R” for reliability. Some samples were predictable, like T-6001 granting flight in most tests, while others, like B-0030, were dangerous, having killed two subjects. The Doctor mentioned the numerous tests, hinting at Cauldron’s resources without elaborating.

The graph showed cost increasing with “P,” “O,” and “R.” Jamie’s budget limited her to low values, risking unwanted physical changes or powers. She wasn’t fixated on a specific power, prioritizing effectiveness. The Doctor adjusted the graph, removing high uniqueness samples. The question was how much Jamie was willing to gamble.

“How unreliable is a five, if we’re talking about ‘R’?” Jamie asked. A five meant a 3-4% chance of unwanted physical changes, a 0.5% chance of severe changes, and buying a category of power, not a specific one. Jamie considered the “O” of three and “P” of five, a power rating of five to Madcap’s seven. There was a chance for a higher “P,” but also a chance for a lower one.

Jamie asked about improving the results. The Doctor mentioned “Shaping” and “Morpheus” packages for refining powers, but they were expensive and not suitable for her budget. The “Nemesis program” was also unsuitable, as Jamie wanted a fair fight.

Jamie offered to help with testing. The Doctor mentioned a required unspecified favor, usually simple tasks. Jamie, nervous, asked if it involved illegal activities. Sometimes, the Doctor admitted, but often it was about managing information leaks or intimidation. Agreeing to three favors could extend a discount.

The graph expanded, showing dark blue cubes. Jamie asked what they’d ask of her. The Doctor didn’t know yet, a subtle lie Jamie detected. She agreed, hoping to do enough good to offset any wrongs.

Jamie’s fourth visit was less out of the way. The hallway was transplanted into her apartment. She knew where to go, striding down the empty hallways, past countless doors. She’d checked the GPS; she was in the Ivory Coast.

She’d had psychological testing and a full workup. The psychiatrist and doctor were tight-lipped. In the stress test room, she found the Doctor waiting. A canister and a chair were nearby. Jamie changed into a provided bodysuit, labeled “Jamie” on the front and “Client” on the back.

She signed the contract, agreeing to every term, including the three favors and details of her kidnapping nine years ago, which she’d downplayed to the psychiatrist. The Doctor confirmed Jamie hadn’t eaten and was healthy. The sample had a short-lived regenerative effect, a selling point for some clients.

The Doctor handed her a vial, no bigger than a pen. “The faster you drink it, the quicker the transition,” she advised. Jamie asked about the “dream quest.” Some experienced it, some didn’t. She should relax and not dwell on stressful thoughts.

Jamie downed the liquid. It burned, intensifying until she thought it couldn’t get worse. It did. “Hurts,” she groaned, trying to stand. “It’ll get more severe,” the Doctor said, “A minute, maybe two.”

It felt like it was consuming her, melting her insides. Her vision darkened. She panicked, fearing it would cause physical changes. She tried to calm herself, using Tai Chi techniques. The pain disconnected, replaced by a sense of adriftness.

An image flickered: a landscape of biological shapes, constantly shifting. Chasms tore through it. Another image: Earth, everyone and everything on it, from every angle. Then another everyone and everything. It wasn’t her doing the looking.

Utter blackness and silence. An undercurrent, a reaching, frustrated and frustrating. The pain vanished. She was on her hands and knees, tears streaming down her face. “What was that?” she asked. The Doctor claimed not to know, a lie Jamie detected.

“Did I… change?” Jamie asked. “You glowed briefly,” the Doctor replied, “You look the same.” Jamie, exhausted, nodded. The Doctor prepared to leave, advising Jamie to rest and then test her abilities.

As the Doctor reached the door, Jamie tried to stand, but her balance failed. She felt a click, a slow-motion sensation. She reached for the chair, but it flew across the room, shattering against the wall. She fell hard. “Seems you have something,” the Doctor said.

Madcap rolled a PRT van. The driver of the second tried to avoid him, but Madcap stepped in its path. The van hit him, crumpling its hood. He kicked it, sending it skidding into a third van.

“Stop!” Jamie stood in the street, in a low-budget black bodysuit and domino mask. “You’re cute,” Madcap said, “But you don’t want to try to stop me.” He wore a customized costume with a grinning faceguard, black facepaint, and a pointed black leather cap.

“I hit pretty hard myself,” Jamie replied. She saw two drivers running from a nearby van, a decoy. She swung a torn-off bumper at Madcap. He blocked it, sending it flying. He tapped her chest, sending her tumbling. She couldn’t stand.

Two PRT soldiers tried to foam him, but he dispatched them. Madcap tore off van doors, freeing the prisoners. Jamie tried to move, but everything hurt. “No,” Madcap said, stopping the freed villains from approaching her, “Hands off.” They left.

“My power didn’t work,” Jamie told the Doctor, “I was strong, and then I wasn’t.” The Doctor suggested investigating the intricacies, but it would cost. She had another idea.

“Consider this your first favor,” she said, “Cauldron would be much obliged if you could join the Wards, and then graduate to the Protectorate as soon as possible.”

“The Protectorate? Why?” Jamie asked, “To sabotage it?” The Doctor asked her just to join, for resources and training. Jamie agreed, knowing it was for a reason.

“Round eight, puppy?” Madcap taunted, “Maybe you can finally win one!” Jamie charged, her team following. Madcap dodged Legend’s beams, crashing through a wall. Jamie pursued, finding him leaping over her.

Her elbow caught him mid-air. She slammed him into a wall, following with a kick. He rebounded, ducking her kick and throwing her down the hallway. Calm, she focused, building her power. She contorted herself mid-air, touching the wall and landing in a crouch.

Legend’s lasers hit where Madcap had been. He sprinted toward Jamie, accelerating. “Battery!” Legend called, “Stop him!” She held on, concentrating. Madcap changed direction, crashing through a wall.

She released her power, strong, fast, invincible. She ran, crashing through two walls, closing in on Madcap. He turned, blocking or grabbing. She pulled a chair into his path with her power. It crumpled, but he stumbled.

Legend caught him with a laser blast. Madcap tumbled, then darted for cover. Another blast smashed him down. He was unconscious. “Good job, Battery,” Legend said, “Finally, huh?” “Finally,” she agreed.

“I really don’t want to go to the Birdcage,” Madcap said, covered in containment foam. “You’ve committed somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred felonies,” Legend replied, “I don’t think you have many options.”

“Felonies, sure, but I haven’t killed anyone,” Madcap countered, “What if I switched sides?” “Get real,” Battery said. “I’m serious, puppy,” Madcap grinned, “You guys need more bodies on the field, I don’t want to go to the Birdcage, it’s win-win. I’m strong.”

“You’ve spent nearly six years perverting the course of justice for others,” Battery retorted. “And now I can make amends!” Madcap’s smile was mocking. “You spent the last five and a half years getting people out of the Birdcage, claiming to be against it and everything it stood for, but now you’re willing to work to put people in there?”

“Maybe you’ve changed me,” Madcap said, “Your good looks, your winning personality, and your diehard persistence in the face of so many defeats at my hand.” Battery asked if they could gag him. “Sadly, no,” Legend said, “And he raises an interesting idea.”

“He’s going to run the second he gets a chance,” Battery warned. “There are options,” Legend suggested, “Tracking devices, or perhaps Myrddin can put some countermeasure in place.” “I’m down for any of that stuff,” Madcap said, glancing at Battery, “But I want some concessions.”

“Concessions? You asshole,” Battery said, “You should be glad that we’re even entertaining this asinine idea.” “I think you’ll find them pretty reasonable,” Madcap told Legend. “Let’s hear it,” Legend said.

“I think this would work best if I took on a new identity,” Madcap proposed, “New costume. My powers are versatile enough that I doubt anyone’s going to draw a connection. It also means I don’t have any enemies or any paranoid customers from my shady past coming after me.”

“That could be arranged,” Legend agreed. “And I want to be on her team,” Madcap pointed at Battery, “Puppy changes to a new city, I go with.” “Hell no,” Battery said. “Why?” Legend asked.

“It’s funny,” Madcap said, “It’s going to irritate the piss out of her, and I’ve got just a little bit of a sadistic streak in me. If I don’t channel it somehow, this just isn’t going to work out. Just give me this, and I’ll be a boy scout.”

“Boy scout? You’ll be on your best behavior?” Legend asked, “This would be more than even regular probation.” “No,” Battery said. “Yes,” Madcap answered Legend. “No,” Battery said, “I’ve been a damn good hero for you guys. My record is spotless, I’ve put in the hours, I’ve put in the overtime hours. I’ve done the jobs nobody else wants to do, the unpaid volunteer crap, the patrols at the dead of night when nothing happens. This is a punishment.”

“You’re right,” Legend sighed, “It would be a heavy burden for a good heroine. So it’s up to you. You decide if Madcap joins the Protectorate or not. I won’t judge you if you say no.” “But you think I should say yes,” Battery said.

“I do, if it makes us stronger in the long run,” Legend replied. Battery looked at Madcap, who offered her an exaggerated pout. “Fuck me,” she said, “You’re going on paper as the one making the call, Legend, and you’re taking the hit if this backfires.”

“That’s fair,” Legend said. “Yes!” Madcap grinned. “I’ve died and gone to hell,” Battery muttered. It was everything she’d become a hero to prevent. But she knew it was for the greater good.

“I already have a name in mind for my goodie-two-shoes costumed self,” Madcap grinned, “You’re going to like this one, puppy.” “You’re going to have to stop calling me that,” Battery warned, “Or your identity as Madcap is going to become public knowledge, fast.”

Madcap rubbed his chin, “Maybe. I’ll agree to stop if you accept my name.” She sighed, “I already know I’m going to hate this.” “You’ll love it. Assault. Get it?”

It took her a second to process, “No!” “No? But it’s perfect. We’ll be a pair! People will know from the second they hear it.” “The connotations are horrible! No! You’re not allowed to change the intent of my name like that!”

“Fine, fine. Point taken. Puppy.” Battery looked at Legend, “Can I maybe get a raise, for putting up with this?” The leader of the Protectorate folded his arms, “Something can be arranged.”

“It can be a coffee,” Assault told her, “Or a beer after a night of patrols. Nothing fancy, low stress.” “Low stress? You’re forgetting the part where I’d be spending more time in your company than I have to,” Battery retorted.

“Hon, you need to unwind. Relax. You’re too rigid, and I know for a fact that you haven’t had a boyfriend or a girlfriend in the two years I’ve worked with you,” Assault said. “Stop implying I’m into women, Ass,” Battery said.

“Well, you know, you keep turning me down, so it kind of makes a man wonder,” Assault replied. “I’ve been too busy, and even if I did want to date, rest assured, you would be my last pick for company,” Battery said.

“So hurtful!” Assault pressed a hand to his chest, “Look at me, I’m like a knight in shining armor, now.” “A wolf in sheep’s clothing, more like,” Battery retorted. “Arooo,” Assault howled.

Miss Militia stopped in the doorway, “Need rescuing?” “If you could put a bullet between his eyes, I’d owe you one,” Battery said. “No can do,” Miss Militia grimaced apologetically, “You okay, though?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” Battery replied. Miss Militia left, and Assault smiled, “Listening to her, you’d think every second in my company was torture.” “Oh, you’d be surprised,” Battery retorted. She topped off her coffee, and Assault started a new pot, a nice gesture marred by his smug look.

“Come on. Give me a chance. Let me know what it takes to get one night of your company. Tell me to bring you a star in the palm of my hand, or slay a dreaded Endbringer, and I’ll get it done,” Assault said.

“You’d just find some loophole and bring me a plastic star or kill an Endbringer in a video game, which would only give you an excuse to harass me further,” Battery replied. “Then think of something else. Anything,” Assault urged.

Battery sipped her coffee, “Anything? Armsmaster was looking for volunteers for some unpaid work at one of the primary schools. I already said I’d do it.” “You do all of that crap,” Assault rolled his eyes, “It’d be admirable if you weren’t trying so ridiculously hard at it. It’s like you’re trying to make up for some wrong you think you’ve committed.”

Battery frowned. The grin dropped from Assault’s face, “Hey, seriously?” She shook her head, “No. No wrong committed, real or imagined.” “But the way you looked just now-” Battery interrupted, “If you come on this errand with me and do part of the speech for the kids, I’ll maybe consider possibly going out with you for lunch someday.”

“Excellent!” Assault grinned, striding off like he’d won the lottery. She smiled. If he only knew this was her shot at payback. The squealing, screaming grade schoolers, pulling on your costume, demanding demonstrations, asking endless questions. He’d have to put up with it. She would relish this.

“…And caught out little suck-a-thumb. Snip! Snap! Snip! The scissors go; And Conrad cries out – Oh! Oh! Oh!…” Assault read to the ninety kids, all leaning forward, eyes wide. “He’s so good with kids,” the librarian murmured.

“Of course he is,” Battery said, perhaps with a hint of bitterness. The librarian gave her a funny look. She plastered on a fake smile. “…both his thumbs are off at last!” Assault finished. The kids squealed in delighted horror.

Pain in the ass, she thought. If I were reading that one they’d all be crying. Battery’s phone vibrated. She excused herself and checked the display.

Customer wants product hand delivered by known parahuman. Package waiting in your apartment. Second task. -c

Cauldron had sent it to her Protectorate phone? To a number only they had? Did that mean something? She deleted the message. Easy enough. If the recipient turned villain, she’d stop them.

Assault caught her eye, a smug, sly smile spreading across his face. He knew how much this irritated her. “Jackass,” she muttered. But she couldn’t stop a smile of her own.

The glass in her front door was shattered. It fell at her feet as she pushed it open. “Ethan!” Battery called. “You’re okay,” Ethan said, coming down the stairs, still in costume, a cut on his cheek.

“I didn’t know where to find you, and since the cell phones don’t work anymore, and you weren’t at headquarters, I thought I’d come here,” Ethan said. “I know. I thought much the same thing, but I came here first,” Battery replied.

“You’re okay?” Ethan asked. “I’m okay, puppy,” Battery said. She punched him lightly. He swept her up in a tight hug. “We should go on patrol,” he said, “This is going to be bad. They’re kicking us while we’re down.”

“Right. Patrol together or apart?” Battery asked. “Together at first, assess the situation,” Ethan replied. “Okay,” Battery said. “A courier dropped this off for you,” he pointed at an envelope on the hall table.

She saw the lowercase ‘c’ and felt her heart sink. “Puppy?” Ethan asked. She picked up the envelope, finding a blank slip of paper. A joke? A reminder? The last one had been two years ago.

“Let’s go,” she said, crumpling it. She charged and ran, Assault covering a similar distance with his leaps. She felt a tingle from her hand. The note? She spent a charge, but didn’t run. Again, the tingle. She focused her power on the note as she smoothed it out.

A pattern emerged: simple black lettering. The paper started to smoke. She had seconds to read before it ignited.

Siberian and Shatterbird are to escape the city, and our business with you will be done. Thank you. – c. 

The burning scraps drifted to the road, but she only felt cold.

Every action had its consequence.