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Crosstime Caper: Part Two
Arrival at Colmaton
The ferret was a good deal less nervous than the previous time he had visited the shipping office of Chenango Warehousing Ltd. Not that he was overconfident – the Cape Buffalo who ran the company as a business front for other activities was not someone to take lightly – but this time he was reporting a positive development rather than being called on the carpet. He'd made the effort of looking, if not truly presentable, at least not glaringly out of place in a business setting, with his black hair combed, his jeans actually belted at his waist, and a proper black polo shirt instead of a black t-shirt and red do-rag.
He entered the inner office at a nod from the secretary, an attractive young bison cow (if you liked vapid top-heavy blondes with a fondness for chewing gum and pink hoof polish). He stood quietly while the Cape buffalo in the gray Armani suit finished up his current task. “Well. Daniel again. I was not expecting to see you. Do I need to demonstrate to your colleagues that they need to pay attention to orders, or did they actually have the good sense to select you as their new chief?”
“They picked me, Mr. C. Manny's behind bars, Frank, Benny, and Leroy are still in the hospital. So I made a few deals with a couple of the boys. Pete lost too much face when he pissed himself during the fight. Just between you and me, sir, I don't really blame him that much, the iron raccoon was goddam scary when she got goin', but... still looks bad, y'know? But I offered to make him my second, and he took me up on it. So who else was there? Bert? Bert's good muscle, and he's got your back in a fight, but nobody would trust him to set up an orgy in a whorehouse.”
The buffalo snorted a brief laugh. “That does sum up Bertram in a nutshell, doesn't it? Very well. I approve, Daniel. You obviously had to make alliances to achieve this, which means there is potential for you to be something more than a minion in due time. You have an opportunity to make something of yourself in the organization. Try not to squander it.”
“Nossir, Mr. C, I won't. I've reestablished our protection arrangements – hadda make a couple examples, furs thought they could slack off after we had that little problem with Ferric and Miracle, but we didn't have ta kill anyone. Quite.”
“Wise. Bodies attract attention, and the dead do not pay protection. What about the masks?”
“Haven't seen that Ferric newbie again. Miracle a few times, same with the Bureau chick who dresses like a bumblebee and talks like Crocodile Dundee...”
“That would be Strikira, I believe.”
“Yeah, her. And once that nutbar cougar who wears a blindfold. My orders to the gang are to back off when one of them is around. They can't arrest you for wearin' red and black, and there's always somethin' somewhere else to attract their attention if you behave while they're watchin'. So we lose a day, mebbe two, a week but we stay under the radar.”
“And proceeds are up from your neighborhood. I would say you are already doing much better than your predecessor. I believe that when the others are released, I will first make sure that they understand that I approve of the new situation.” He focused on the ferret. “As long as the news stays good, of course. Accidents happen, I won't be so unreasonable as to demand an increase every week, but I won't tolerate stupidity.”
Danny nodded. “I understand, Mr. C.”
“Excellent. This whole business may turn out to have been a blessing in disguise after all. It's up to you to make that happen. I'll see you next month, Daniel.”
The night air rippled in a dingy alleyway as something appeared. It was a very odd way of appearing; a dark spot expanded first into a line approximately four and a half feet long from the ground to its tip. It then expanded into a flat image of a bat dressed in a metallic-mesh tunic and trousers, and finally expanded into a full three dimensions. The bat frowned at his surroundings, then spread his wings to flit up to the top of the run-down apartment building on the south side of the alley. From this vantage point he studied the immediate area for several minutes, and then he began to speak. He spoke softly, apparently to himself, in a language no one in Colmaton would have understood without telepathy even if they had been both close enough to hear him and had ears capable of detecting ultrasound.
[Log entry, Colonel K'ree Tana*karishi t'Ski\riish. Have arrived in 181-314-Tau-Samekh-54-101-226. I have apparently crossed a fractal boundary; my arrival point was within a city that does not exist at all in 181-313. Technology levels appear to be late 20th to early 21st century standard. Radio frequency transmissions exist in high density, analysis started. Will engage chameleon field and retreat from the urban area until I can find out more. End log entry.]
About a dozen blocks away, he overflew a wolfess in yellow and black, and a raccoon-femme in a green bodysuit, also watching the city from a rooftop. <Ayup. Typical Tau-Samekh intersection. Superhero timeline again. Multiple sapient species, no humans present so far. Hope there are bats.> He didn't notice the raccoon glance up and then stiffen as he passed overhead.
“What in the world...?” The raccoon gestured to her companion and directed her attention to the flyer. “What's -that-?”
Strikira glanced up. “Just a pigeon. Now what were...”
Miracle shushed her. “Trust me, that was -not- a pigeon. It's trying very hard to -look- like one, but there's too much weirdness about it. It's actively -producing- pigeon shaped echoes, but they don't match the incoming sound correctly. It's sucking up what comes in and producing a different echo. And the air currents around it are more like a bat flying.” The term she used was for a fellow sapient, not the small ferals.
“Really? The wolfess' eyes narrowed as she stared after it. “You're right, it's flying too straight for a pigeon, and you usually see them in flocks. And in daylight...” She shrugged. “Neither of us can chase it. Something I'll let the Bureau pass around, and you can do the same with the unregistered community. Someone's using some very advanced stealth. Might be a new unregistered, might be government or a villain. Now, what were you telling me about the Knives...?”
“They're starting to recover from the drubbing Ferric and I gave them just before Christmas. Their new leader is a ferret, goes by Danny. He's not nearly as big as some of the thugs in the gang, but he's smart enough to be a lot more dangerous in the long run. And although some of them are out on bail, their old chief isn't and a couple of the others are still in the prison hospital.”
Strikira chuckled. “Yeah. Kid's still learning to pull her punches.”
“Does she -really- weigh a ton?”
“Nearly.”
Miracle whistled softly. “Well, that -would- explain why she makes so much noise when she walks... anyway, War Wolf and I are both quite curious as to how the boys pulled enough lawyer-power to get most of them out for now. She's looking into it. She asks that you people don't stir up things by running your own investigation just yet, she'll let you know what she finds.”
[Log Entry, Day 2 local. Initial impressions are mostly confirmed by observations so far. The Axis World is a Terra variant, with multiple intelligent species over the Chordate phylum. Major languages are very close to Terra Prime standards, as are major historical events. Local tech is definitely early 21st Century, in agreement with the local calendar, with the usual anomalies related to the existence of metanormal individuals. There are hints of both interstellar and interdimensional contacts, but these are not yet confirmed.
One primary variation from Terra Standard is the role the United Nations has taken with regard to metanormals. They managed to broker an international treaty which purports to set standards for safeguarding both normals and the metanormals while allowing the metanormals to act in support of civil society. The Russian, Chinese, and American governments immediately proceeded to ignore various provisions of the agreement, as suited their national characters. Even without this blatant abuse, the Bureau of Superheroes that was set up tries to maintain a database of all the metanormals and their 'secret identities' while providing very little in the way of protection from abuse of said database by their own operatives. Somehow they have muddled through in spite of several rogue operations abusing the database in exactly that manner, and since they have been lucky so far, they have done nothing to correct the problem. Inept even for bureaucrats.
Possible contraband item from this timeline is a very nasty little chemical designated as 'somaform'. It is rumored to target females as a knockout gas and temporarily shuts down female metanormal's special abilities. If it is not simply an urban legend, I will need to obtain a sample for analysis; if it is dependent on local conditions, a quarantine may not be necessary, but it seems something that should be kept away from slavers with extreme prejudice.
I am happy to report that there are bat sapients here! One of the broadcasts included a film clip of a bat metanormal in local Philadelphia. All I need is local clothing and ID and I can blend right into the background, always a good thing with metanormal timelines. There always seems to be someone who can see through the chameleon field. End log entry.]
Identity documents, he mused, were actually easier to obtain than local clothing in timelines with an early internet. All it took was a quick bit of pick-pocketing, a scan of the local documents to get the template, and then you let your much more advanced computer insert the proper records into the local database while the pantograph produced the physical card. And while that was happening, you returned the wallet to your unknowing confederate.
He actually had the opportunity to do it to what looked like a local police officer heading into a place called the Dixie Diner. “Excuse me, sir! You dropped this!”
“What?” The big Great Dane saw the bat holding his badge and wallet. “Cash Tankenson wants to know how you got those!”
“Err... you dropped them? I said that.”
The dog growled. “Cash thinks you're a pickpocket! And you're going down!”
“What? If I were a pickpocket, why would I be giving them back to you?”
The dog's companion, a young red-headed vixen officer whose name-tag read Henderson, rolled her eyes. “He's got a point, Lieutenant. Remember what happened the time you tried to arrest that badger who stopped a purse-snatcher? Chief McGee put you on parking ticket duty for a week. And made you apologize in public.”
“Cash still says McGee stole his job!”
The vixen rolled her eyes again. “How I got stuck with you this shift, Lieutenant, I’ll never know.”
K'ree faded away while the pair of them bickered. <By the Pantheon. How did that idiot ever get promoted to Lieutenant? Stupid is more dangerous than intelligent opposition, sometimes...> He ducked into an alley and took stock of his new documentation. <Okay... local name Kerry Skydancer, decent picture... heh. And a police badge in that name as a bonus. Probably shouldn't use it with actual cops, though. Small enough group that they might know I'm not one of them, even if I am in their database now. Next step on the agenda, cash a gold nugget in for currency, and buy some local clothing. And then I can turn off the imager and take my time checking the place out.>
Ferric was still dancing on air (an impressive feat for an eight hundred kilogram raccoon) two weeks after Christmas. She'd ended up staying with her family for three days – it was decided that there was no real risk as long as she was prepared to duck out if a visitor came up the long drive from the main road, and the Bureau had put in a full coverage security perimeter when the family was moved from Pennsylvania to the Upper Peninsula. The visit had cheered her up enormously, even though Techrat's preliminary attempt at a holographic disguise was not entirely successful - she'd had to hold her tail tight against her leg so it wouldn't stick out and turn her into a ring-tailed grizzly at the Christmas Eve service. But he'd been reviewing the data and the whole episode had given her hope that she would be able to set up a new secret identity and have a normal life again someday.
At the moment, she and Nandi were drilling each other in geography while Jacob Randle, aka Colmaton's boy genius Techrat, did the monthly maintenance on his armor suit. “Poland.”
The bear-mouse-leopard hybrid girl grinned. “Easy one. Capital Warsaw, location southern coast of the Baltic, bordering Lithuania, Belarus, Ukraine, Czech and Slovakia, and Germany.”
“Left one out.”
“I did?”
“That little sliver of Russia where they ate East Prussia after the Second World War.”
“Oh, right. Why haven't they given that back?”
“Everyone there these days -is- Russian, Nandi. They sent the Germans packing back in the 50's. Besides, it's Russia. When have they -ever- given anything away without being forced?”
“True. Your turn, Sally.” The raccoon passed the atlas over to her friend. “Let's go with Belarus.”
“Umm... Capital, Minsk. East of Poland, landlocked by the Baltic states - “
“Name 'em.”
“Drat, ya called my bluff. Lithuania and Latvia, definitely. Never remember if it borders Estonia.”
Nandi peeked at the map. “It doesn't.”
“So then Russia and Ukraine. And... you get Russia!”
Techrat's email chimed at that moment. “Hang on, girls, we've got an override message.”
Nandi grinned. “Saved by the beep!” She scooted over and took the opportunity to snuggle with Jake while he opened his email program and called up the priority message.
Sally leaned over from behind them. “From Strikira. Stealth Super?”
The message was brief. 'G'day, everyone! Was on patrol, talking with Miracle when she spotted something or someone flying under some major stealth. Looked like a pigeon to me, but she said it wasn't right based on echoes and such. She thinks it was actually a bat, either with some kind of serious cloaking tech, or a newbie unregistered hero. It was heading north out of the Windsor district when she spotted it. Full details in the action report to follow, but keep your eyes peeled.'
“Huh.” Sally grinned. “We need to find that bat! He could help you get mine working better, I bet.”
Jacob rolled his eyes. “Only if it's compatible tech, Sally. More likely it would be like trying to make a diesel engine work better by sticking a spark plug in it.”
“But diesels don't use... oh. Right. Gotcha. Still, it can't hurt to see how this one works, right?”
Jake shrugged. “Probably wouldn't. Windsor, eh?” He called up the city map of Colmaton. “Oh, there it is. Isn't that where you had your little run-in last month, Sally?”
“Near there, yeah. Let's hope it's a new super, that neighborhood can use the help.”
Colonel Tana*karishi sighed. Either the beer was uniformly bad in this timeline, or the establishment he was patronizing didn't carry any of the good brands. This was the third one he'd tried, and they were all swill, as far as he was concerned. The fellow he was keeping his ears on, a weasel who was a walking stereotype of the sort of gangster who confused flashy clothing with class, was nursing a mixed drink instead of the beer, so he was hoping it was the bar.
He was always amused that most visually-oriented sapients forgot that a mirror reflected sound nearly as well as light, letting him sit facing away from the target and still listen to his conversations. The fellow was definitely a go-between from what he'd heard so far, and therefore the first link in the chain he needed to obtain the samples he was interested in. He beckoned the bartender over, and laid a fifty down. “I understand that the gentleman in the corner booth is a... businessman.”
The fox nodded. “And a regular customer here. He makes sure I don't have any problems with the local riff-raff, if y'know what I mean. Or from busybodies.”
“I quite understand.” The bat pulled a pouch out from under his pull-over shirt, and spilled a dozen or so gems into his hand. He selected a ruby and placed it on top of the fifty, putting the rest back in the pouch and returning it to its hiding place. “Give him this for me, and tell him that I have a proposition for him.”
The fox's eyes went wide at the sight of the gems. “I'll just do that, sir. Won't be a moment.”
He watched openly in the mirror this time as the fox trotted over with a fresh drink for the weasel and the gem. The weasel looked up, and glanced in his direction as the fox pointed. “Yessir, Mr. Firenzi. He's got a whole bag of 'em. Says he's got a proposition for you.”
The weasel nodded, and the bartender came back over. “He'll see you now.”
K'ree put another fifty on the bar. “Thank you.” He got up and walked over to the booth. “May I join you...?”
“Sure thing, siddown. An interesting little bauble you sent me. Looks real.”
“I assure you, it is quite real. Consider it a free sample. Have it appraised.”
The weasel looked at him for a bit. “So... what are you thinking? That I might be a fence?”
The bat smiled. “I can also assure you, Mr. Firenzi, that it is not 'hot'. It is merely... shall we say, Unregistered?”
“You do interest me, Mr....?” The weasel asked the question with his hand.
“Call me Skydancer. I represent a gentleman who has his ways of producing... crystals... such as these, and other specialty items of this sort for those who need them. He wishes to use his ability to generate a comfortable lifestyle, but the Bureau is stuffy about using one's abilities for...” the bat gestured air quotes. “...personal gain, particularly when one hasn't registered with them -because- of that same stuffiness. Benighted bunch of socialists, in my opinion, with that breed's aversion to letting anyone make a profit.”
“Ah. I -do- understand your client's difficulties, Mr. Skydancer. He needs a way to sell these baubles without attracting attention to where they are coming from?”
“Precisely, Mr. Firenzi. He has additional interests in the long term, but to begin with, he simply wishes to sell a reasonable number of gemstones through intermediaries who can keep the government – and the Bureau – from noticing.” He took a black cloth out of his shirt, and then spread a good two dozen gems out on it. “I am authorized to allow you two additional gems of your choice to test to confirm his bona fides. The ruby is yours to keep, for your trouble. I will be back here on Tuesday, I believe that's the 12th, to negotiate terms if you wish to enter into an agreement.”
“That's very generous of your client, Mr. Skydancer.” He selected two medium sized stones, an emerald and a sapphire, and wrapped them in a silk handkerchief with the ruby. “I'm sure we'll be able to come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement.”
“Excellent. In that case, I won't take up any more of your time tonight. Until next Tuesday?”
“Until then. Arrividerci, Mr. Skydancer.”
They both stood up, and shook hands. “Au revoir, Mr. Firenzi.” The bat turned and walked out the door.
The badger stared after him, remembering the rest of the bag. “You want I should follow him, Mr. Firenzi?”
“Not this time, Tony. I think he's smarter than to let himself be followed easily. He's a bat, after all. He can fly.”
“Oh, yeah...”
“And Mr. Chenango wouldn't appreciate scaring away a source of gemstones like these. If they check out? Stuff like this is worth a lotta dough, Tony. Worst case, we've got three high quality rocks for nothin'. If it's for real? Could be worth millions.”
According to the official building plans, the building was a simple three-story townhome converted to apartments. In reality, it was one of the Night Guard safe houses set up by War Wolf and Spectra to meet and practice with her closest allies. This evening, the pair had been joined by the green-clad Miracle. She and Spectra were engaged in some friendly sparring while Erica took things easy, or at least as easy as she ever did. The silver-haired wolf was recovering from being shot two nights earlier. Even her specially designed armor did not allow her to shrug off rifle bullets with impunity, and while she disliked inactivity, she knew better than to risk permanent damage by ignoring injuries.
Since she was not able to patrol effectively, she was taking advantage of the forced off duty time to track down a money trail. Miracle and a new Bureau super – Miracle said she called herself Ferric – had taken out a large number of the Twin Knives gang after they had attempted to attack the young super, not realizing what she was capable of. Four of the gang were in the hospital, and the young lion who had led the attack was still in custody, but the rest had somehow made bail. She intended to find out who had arranged it.
“And... we're in. Let's see...” Armed with the police report and Bureau case numbers, the list of accused fursons in the assault was easily obtained once she had made it through the security programs, and their individual records were downloaded. “Not the first time for most of them, it seems.” She flipped through several of the folders. “And bail was arranged through Shoreham and Associates. I've run across them before. I don't have court-level proof yet, but I know they're tied in with Rigar's organization.”
“So the Knives here are definitely part of his empire?” Miracle asked.
“Most likely. Shoreham does plenty of business outside of that, of course, but the selectivity in this case tells me that the gang didn't arrange it themselves. They didn't bother bailing the injured ones, and the leader didn't get bailed out – which means that someone is Sending A Message. He screwed up by attacking a super, and he's going to pay for it. We'll see if that means he's just going to be cooling his heels 'til the trial, or if they're going to let him take the fall, but someone isn't happy, for sure. They don't have attorneys of record yet, but I've got a suspicion it'll be one of Bakk's junior partners.”
Spectra padded over to look at the screens over War Wolf's shoulder. “Lovely bunch, aren't they?”
The wolf merely grunted in response. “Now, this new Bureau agent. Haven't found much on her. A couple of local interest things here in Colmaton – she's appeared in public in costume a few times, either alone or with other Bureau agents, doing -civilian- things, almost like she doesn't have a secret identity. Shopping, things like that. There are some unsubstantiated rumors about an appearance last spring in a little town in northwest Pennsylvania. The only official activity, though, is assisting with the rescue effort in September after the Valparaiso Earthquake. This tells me that she's most likely underage, and was brought into the Bureau early for some reason. Probably something involved with the Pennsylvania rumors, would be my guess. Miracle, you've met her. What can you tell us about her?”
“You're right about the underage thing. She admitted she's thirteen, though I would say she's very mature for her age. Her accent's definitely Eastern, so the PA rumors could be her. She mentioned that she blew her civilian identity and that she doesn't know where her family is since they had -theirs- changed to protect them.”
War Wolf nodded. “So she probably doesn't -have- a secret identity, as such. I take it she's unusual in some way?”
“Several. She's huge for a raccoon, taller than -I- am, and she's still growing. She's massive even for her height, to the point where I was having trouble reading anyone -else's- position in that fight. Strikira confirmed that her offhand comment of 'I weigh a ton and I glitter' was -not- an exaggeration. She said she's made of iron, and her scent certainly bears that out. She's doing training in martial arts, presumably with Combat, but she's not very far along yet. Super strong and mostly invulnerable, she shrugged off a knife in the back.”
“Invulnerable, not fast-healing?”
“No blood. She was mainly annoyed that it tore her costume and concerned that the whole affair might have damaged the Christmas presents she'd just bought.”
Spectra chuckled. “She's got her priorities a little backwards, doesn't she?”
Miracle shrugged. “She called the cops before she checked. And she didn't do anything to the boar who tried to knife her except scare him.”
“She threatened him?”
“Nah. He stabbed, nothing happened. She turned around, grabbed him, and picked him up by the front of his jacket. He pissed himself at that point.”
Spectra snorted. “Eeeew.”
“That's what -she- said.” Miracle turned her blind eyes toward War Wolf. “And she's a fan of yours. She didn't ask, but I'm pretty sure she'd like to meet you sometime.”
The wolf snorted. “I don't have time for fans. I have more than enough to do without wasting time socializing.”
The raccoon nodded. “She understands. As I said, she didn't ask. But she told me to pass on a thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being who you are. Pretty sure she's got the comic book version of you in her head, but they've got the whole 'grim, yet supportive and dedicated' thing down pat.”
“The movie changed their focus,” Spectra grinned. War Wolf just snorted in response. Miracle continued.
“Anyway, she used that as a focus during what must have been a -very- awkward childhood. She said it kept her from lashing out at the other kids; apparently her nickname in junior high was 'Queen of the Freaks.' -Before- they found out how strong she really was, I gather. So... guess ya helped keep a young super from going the villain route, and she wanted you to know.”
War Wolf sat quietly for a minute, uncharacteristically pensive. “Tell her I appreciate it, the next time you see her.”
Miracle smiled. “I'll do that.” The smile turned into a mischievous grin. “She also mentioned she has one of your action figures, and it does an outstanding job of keeping the monsters under the bed from poking their noses out.”
War Wolf just glared as both the raccoon and the lioness broke out laughing.
Algeron Marshweeve, who called himself Eldritch in his Bureau identity, frowned as something faint but unmistakable tripped one of his more arcane senses. He'd been getting hints of it since New Year's, but this one was intense enough to give him a sense of where it was. -Something- was moving in and out of this plane of existence, right here in Colmaton. It was not a being of immense power, but it was doing so without being summoned, either. <I wonder if anything powerful enough to be dangerous if summoned would – or even could – send its own minion ahead to summon it? I hope not.> He sighed. <I suppose I need to check the Libris Lacunae again... and I was so enjoying being sane...>
K'ree had been exploring up and down the 5-axis while waiting for his pocket pantograph to produce more gemstones. He'd been especially amused by 181-314-Tau-Samekh-62-101-226, which as nearly as he could tell was identical to 54 but was completely gender-reversed, down to having National Heroes instead of Heroines – and a male-effective version of somaform. -That- had been less amusing to discover, and he'd already made contact with that universe's Miss Firenzi to start the process of obtaining samples of the stuff. Whatever the results of his interference were going to be in either reality, he intended to keep the two as close to identical as possible, down to locating that universe's Cash Tankenson to pickpocket for identity paper samples. That had been weirdly different, though. Instead of being automatically suspicious when he returned them, the female version had decided he was 'cute' - and flirted instead. <I suppose I should've set the imager to 'female' to keep things balanced. Live and learn, K'ree, live and learn. Although learning -that- about Tankenson was just disturbing.>
But it was the 12th, and he was back at the Fox's Den with a small briefcase, trying to decide whether or not Killarney's Red Ale rose above the level of swill. <At least it's a higher grade of swill. Why don't industrial timelines ever make mead on a commercial basis?> Firenzi had nodded as he came in, but had hooked a thumb in the direction of an empty corner table and had made no move to join him. He'd sent a text message immediately after that. K'ree assumed someone had been notified of his arrival.
He didn't have that long to wait, fortunately for his taste buds. The bat-femme who stepped into the bar was dressed like a hooker, but moved like a martial artist. She came over to his table, and smiled at him. “Hey there, sugah. Louie said you looked like you could use some company.”
The weasel gave him a slow nod when he glanced over, so he smiled back. “If it's the right kind of company, miss. Care for something to drink? I'm afraid I can't recommend the beer.”
She sat down beside him. “Dawson knows what I drink. Just give him a high sign, and he'll bring it over.”
K'ree signalled the bartender, who brought a drink over almost immediately. “Rum and cola, Miss Fujira. Just the way you like it.”
K'ree waited for the fox to retreat to the bar again. “You're a regular here?”
“Not that often, fortunately. But I'm often tapped when Louie's boss needs to meet someone from here. A convenient explanation for why they leave suddenly.”
He raised his mug in an ironic salute. “Indeed. So I assume that someone is indeed interested in making an arrangement with my client?”
“You assume correctly, Mr. Skydancer. Shall we finish our drinks and go?”
“Call me Kerry. And you may if you want – I think I'll leave most of mine behind. As I said, I don't recommend the beer.”
“I'm Lucy.” She knocked her drink back in one slug. “And mine's rum and cola, without the rum. As Dawson said, just the way I like it. I don't need alcohol in my line of work. Our driver's waiting in the alley.”
“Then let's be on our way.” He stood up, left ten dollars on the table, and walked out with a wing draped over her shoulders.
The limo parked around the corner was a black Lincoln, the driver a wolf in a black suit. K'ree withdrew his wing as soon as they were out of sight of the bar's windows, and Lucy nodded. “Very nicely done. And you didn't try to take liberties while playing the role. I like you better than most of my pickups already.”
He nodded. “I have found that attempting to take uninvited liberties with bodyguards rarely ends well, Miss Fujira. And you are either a bodyguard, or something even more dangerous.”
She smiled, showing teeth. “Lucy really is fine. I -definitely- like you better than most of my boss's associates. Are you hiring?”
“Sorry.” They got into the car, and the driver started off. “I'm not really in the market for a bodyguard at the moment. And if anyone needs killing, I prefer to handle it myself.”
“Oh? You don't seem the type.”
“I rarely find it necessary. There are usually alternatives.”
“Sometimes.” She was silent for a time, then resumed the conversation. “Mister Chenango will be negotiating with you. He will have a jeweler with him to appraise what you have to offer.”
“That will certainly save time.”
“He has also told me to make sure that you are not bringing any recording devices with you.”
K'ree frowned. “Understandable, but inconvenient. -Everyone- has a cellphone these days. Tell you what – I can turn it off and lock it in one of the smaller cases.” The limo had more than enough room for two bats, and he placed the briefcase on the seat between them, opening it to reveal a dozen locked boxes with touchpads. “I'll just transfer these, and you can confirm that it's off.” The cellphone was a standard local product, bought since his arrival. His real communicator was miniaturized molecular circuitry and concealed as a ring. He dumped the gemstones, topaz in this case, into a cloth bag and let Lucy place the cellphone into the metal case before sealing it shut. “There. Now I can't use it without spending too much time to get it out. Happy?”
“You're too cooperative to make me happy, Kerry. I -will- have to frisk you when we get there.”
He grinned. “I'm looking forward to it.”
She snorted, amused in spite of herself. “Charming rogue, aren't you?”
“One tries. But it only works on other bats.”
The rest of the ride passed in silence, the bat-femme watching their surroundings carefully as they went. Eventually, they turned into the yard of a warehouse complex and from there down a ramp into the lower deck of one of the buildings, a loading dock concealed from casual view. “Our venue for this evening, I assume?”
“You assume correctly.” The wolf parked the car and held the door open for them. Lucy followed him out, then patted him down for weapons and wires. “He's clean, Charles. Let's go.” He led the way inside, and they rode up to the top floor in a freight elevator. From there, the wolf led them down a half-lit hallway to a lavishly appointed conference room, somewhat out of step with the rest of the place.
Four furs were waiting for them. On the left side of the table was a mole, with the tools of a jewel appraiser spread out around him and the three gems he'd given to Firenzi laid out on black velvet. Two were obviously bodyguards standing behind their principal, a ferret who seemed ill at ease in his black suit, and a polar bear who could have been carved from marble before being dressed in his. Between them sat a Cape Buffalo in a gray suit who nodded as they entered. “Mr. Skydancer, I presume?”
He nodded, setting his briefcase on the table as Fujira and Charles stood behind him, counterpoint to the bear and the ferret. “And you would be Mr. Chenango?”
“Correct. You have more samples with you?”
“Quite a few. Enough to be a first delivery, I hope.”
The buffalo raised an eyebrow. “You have that much trust in us, Mr. Skydancer?”
“I have a great deal of faith in your own self-interest, sir. I can bring you this many gemstones on a monthly basis. Why would you wish to confiscate the first installment and receive no further shipments?”
“A point, sir. Very well. Herr Unterberg, would you tell Mr. Skydancer what you reported to me about the three gems he gave us earlier?”
“Certainly, Herr Chenango.” The mole turned nearsighted eyes in the bat's direction. “Zese chems are flawless, Herr Skydancer. Unusually so, in my experience. Und zey do not seem to have been cut und polished, as zey do not have zee usual marks to be expected from zose processes. Und yet zey have zee correct densities und refraction of chemstones. How did you obtain zem?”
K'ree smiled. “As I told Mr. Firenzi, my client is an Unregistered individual. His power is not one that can be used in combat, a mere curiosity in many ways. He can manipulate crystals at the molecular level. If I may...?” He gestured at his briefcase. Chenango nodded, and he popped it open, selected a box, and let his fingers play across the touchpad. It opened to reveal a set of two dozen emeralds cut in varying styles. “He takes the raw material from simple substances, clay and rocks and gravel for the most part, though emeralds require a source of beryllium as well. Diamonds he can make literally from coal or charcoal.” He passed the box to the jeweler, who peered at several of them through a loupe before nodding.
“Zey are chust as zee first one, Herr Chenango. Flawless, apparently cut in ze standard types, but...” He peered at the bat again. “If I am not mistaken, from your deshcription of your client, zey haff been formed chust as zey are, vit no -need- for cutting und polishing, ya?”
K'ree shifted languages. “Richtig, Herr Unterberg. Ganz richtig.” The mole beamed, and the discussion went back and forth in German for a while, until Chenango cleared his throat impatiently.
Unterberg started. “Entschuldigen Sie mir, bit-- Excuse me, please, Herr Chenango. It vas easier to clear up zat point in my natiffe speech.”
“And that point being...?”
“He can produce eizzer pre-formed chemstones such as zese, or vuns zat appear to be natural, und vhich can zen be cut und polished in ze usual vay. He brought zese because to ze layman's eyes, efen a flawless diamond iss merely a lump uff, uff... vas ist schmierig...?”
“Greasy.” Skydancer supplied.
“Ya, danke. Ein bit of greasy rock. You vouldn't haff brought some like dat, vould you?”
“Actually...” He reached under his tunic and brought out a bag.
The jeweler spilled it out onto a fresh cloth and gasped in astonishment as a half-dozen pebble-sized chunks fell out. “Mein Gott...” Unterberg picked up a slightly yellowish one, felt it, and peered at it through his loupe before handing it to the buffalo. “Zat, Herr Chenango, is tvice ze size of ze Hope Diamond before it vas cut. Ve could not sell it zat vay, I fear. It vould attract far too much attention, ya? It seems such a pity to break it up, zough...”
The bat smiled. “And yet most people would not even know what it was. Geologists, jewelers... and customs agents, unfortunately. The point is that he can supply gemstones, precious or semiprecious, in either finished or raw forms, as you prefer.”
The buffalo nodded. “What about gold?”
Skydancer spread his hands. “Unfortunately, gold is an elemental substance. He cannot make atoms, only rearrange them. Coal to diamond, yes. But not gold from lead. He -could- turn existing gold into apparently natural nodules, complete with quartz inclusions, though, if you had a need to disguise the source of some existing gold.”
“A pity, but I foresee no such need at the moment. But I'm sure that we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement with these. What is he requesting in payment?”
“I was instructed to ask for seventy-five percent of retail value for pre-formed gemstones, fifty percent for natural ones...”
He eventually left with an advance deposit of 1.3 million dollars to a Swiss bank account and an agreement for forty percent of the wholesale net once the stones had been sold. “A pleasure doing business, sir.” Chenango watched him go, once again escorted by Fujira and Charles, then turned to the ferret who'd been acting as a bodyguard. “And that, Daniel, is how things work in the big leagues. Make sure your people do not disturb Mr. Skydancer in any way, nor allow anyone -else- to disturb him as long as he remains within your territory.”
The ferret nodded. “Absolutely not, Mr. C. He's got an apartment in the building at Forty-four and Douglas, but I'm not sure how much time he actually spends there. But we'll make sure nobody bothers the place. Or anyone else in the building, for that matter.”
Chenango actually smiled. “Very good, Daniel. That is -exactly- correct. If you should find anything out, report it to me, but do not try to follow him. I suspect he would notice, and that would be a very bad thing.”
“Not our job, right?”
“Exactly. I suspect that Ms. Fujira will be far more likely to be able to seduce Mr. Skydancer than you ever would.”
The ferret laughed at that. “Not my type, Mr. C. An' I don't think I'm his type, neither.” It was only after his initial reaction that he realized Manny, the former chief of the Twin Knives gang, would have taken it as an insult, and quite possibly gotten himself in trouble over it. <Be just like the big jerk to be insulted when the boss is actually unbending enough to crack a joke with 'im.>
“Indeed. You are dismissed, Daniel. I'll have Boris drop you off if you need a ride. You might as well keep the suit, you may need it again.”
“Thanks, Mr. C. I'll see you again in three weeks for the regular monthly, right?”
“Correct. Monday the first.”
Nobody was on the street when the limo dropped off the pair of bats at Forty-four and Douglas except a pair of feral rats and a feral raccoon watching from the cover of an overflowing dumpster. The opossum in the ragged hoodie who appeared to be sleeping off a bender in the next alley over was watching through their eyes. <That's Chenango's pet assassin, dressed up as a cheap call girl. Wonder who she's with? And why?> Vermin let the raccoon and rats continue their foraging as the pair went inside, and switched to tracking their progress by the mice and roaches in the walls of the apartment building. <Okay, fifth floor, the elevator's still working... Apartment 512. Huh. Place is nasty, the furniture is the cheap crap that comes with a furnished apartment in this neighborhood, and the mice are complaining that there's no food there. And.. yipe!> The pair had just vanished, right before his borrowed eyes.
The Windsor District of Colmaton had been a much nicer place in 1952, which it still -was- in timeline 48. K'ree had decided to make it his 'local' base for exploring the timelines nearby; it was conveniently a building that existed in quite a number of the realities he was exploring, which made it easy to sideslip back and forth without attracting attention – and it was uninfested and in much better shape than its counterparts in 2016 (aka timelines 54 and 62). Fujira appeared with him, shaking her head and swallowing hard to get her stomach back under control. [Lousy bastard super. Warn a girl properly next time.]
[My apologies, Lucy. I did ask if you -really- wanted to go home with me.]
She shook her head. [And of course you speak Japanese, as well as German. My apologies for what I called you.]
[Quite all right, I deserved it. Most furs end up losing a meal the first time, even with a proper warning. I'm impressed that you didn't.]
[It wasn't easy.] She looked around. [A bit old-fashioned, but much nicer than that dump in Colmaton. Teleporting does make it easy to get around unseen, I take it?]
[You could say that, yes.]
[We could use someone with that kind of talent, if you're interested in taking on other clients besides this mysterious gem-maker.]
“I already have an interesting and fulfilling job, Lucy. Best we shift to English – if the neighbors overhear us speaking Nihongo or Deutsch, it won't be pretty.”
This earned him a very puzzled look. “Why--?”
“Not now. Just trust me on that.” He waved to one side of the room. “Have a seat, and tell me why you're here. Have you been ordered to seduce me, or have you decided on your own to try it to fulfill your orders to find my client?”
She settled on an armchair, and gave him an appraising look. “Well, that's blunt. Does it matter which?”
He grinned. “If it's your idea, and you still want to try it knowing that we both know it won't work, I don't have a problem with the idea at all. If you don't want to, you've got my permission to report that you tried and it didn't work. Just don't tell your boss I prefer boys, he'll throw one at me and I'd really rather not deal with that.”
She chuckled. “Deal. Kinda both, really. He told me to gain your confidence, and he knows I use seduction as a tool for that when I can. Not everyone finds us attractive, after all.”
He sighed, gazing into nothing, remembering too many worldlines where that was true with a vengeance. “No... no, they don't...”
“Bad memories?”
“Far too many. I'm a lot older than I look, and my work takes me to very unpleasant places sometimes.”
“You -do- intrigue me, Kerry.” She got up and walked over to him, leaning down to nuzzle between his ears. “Let's see if I can seduce you into offering me a job, if you won't tell me who your current client is while I'm working for the buffalo.”
“Okay, now that might just be something you could do. Let's see if it works, shall we?”
Ferric was in the Base cafeteria, munching her way through her second meal of the day while chatting with Strikira. The Australian wolf was still in her civilian guise as one of the waitresses at Dixie Diner after finishing a breakfast shift. “By th' way, luv, heard back from Miracle. She says ya managed to get through War Wolf's armor, just a little. She def'nitely appreciated yer thank you.”
Ferric beamed at that news. “It was only the truth, after all. It was her public reputation I was idolizing, but from what I've read since I got here... it's not that far off.” She turned serious. “I read the reports about the Sandstalker incident – the one out on the island. She really -is- that good, isn't she?”
The wolf shuddered, reminded of the helplessness of being slowly poisoned, merely bait for the ibex to play her sick games with War Wolf. “Wouldn't be here without her, luv. She really -is- that good. Sandstalker plans ten moves ahead. War Wolf -beat- her at her own game from a standing start. Yeh want someone to idolize, she's a bonzer sheila for it.”
“Well... if you ever need muscle for something, let me know. I might just sneak out and accidentally show up there.”
“You just stick to yer trainin', kid. We've got Medic Mouse an' Ranger for stuff like that, and you don't need to be getting' mixed up with that sort of thing at your age.”
Ferric sighed. “Too late for that, y'know. Someone out there tried to kidnap my family to coerce me into being an experimental subject. There's a target on my back already. I don't want to sit in here for the next five years until someone like Preceptor decides I'm magically old enough to help the day I turn eighteen.” She turned to face the Australian wolf. “And I'm a farm girl. I know what they're leaving out of the official reports. Some of the villains are real sickos. I'm surprised they don't slap an X rating on the ones about Sharpfury.”
“Heh. I don't think they figured on 'avin' folks like you and Jake bein' able to access 'em. Fair enough. But give it a bit yet. Combat says yer makin' good progress, let -him- give you a go-ahead before you start buckin' the bureaucracy. I've seen what you can do with those javelins he got you fer Christmas – now ya got to learn to do it to what yer aimin' for.”
The raccoon blushed. “Okay, you've got me there. I'll be good. For now.”
“Glad t' hear it, luv...” She paused, glancing up as someone else entered the cafeteria. “Bleedin' 'ell, 'e's 'eadin' over 'ere, an' 'e don't look like 'e's 'avin' one of 'is good days.”
Ferric looked up, to see Eldritch weaving in their general direction, giggling to himself. She sighed... the wolf-raccoon mix reminded her of some of the odder oddballs she'd protected before she'd blown her secret identity. She was sympathetic to him, but even so, she was a bit creeped out sometimes by his behavior. “Not his fault his powers drive him crazy. At least it wears off.”
Strikira muttered, “So far...”
Eldritch weaved his way to their table – not as if he were drunk, but as if he was avoiding obstacles that only he could see. “There you are, little wolf, wolf... and a raccoon, but not the right one...” He peered at Ferric. “You're more real than they are, yes, heehee, harder to change... but what is reality? Holes there are, yes... more solid, but...” He blinked, and turned his attention back to Strikira. “You have seen him, yes... little bat, flitting, flitting through the walls between the worlds, he does... He means well, but someday he may flit somewhere and wake up something sleeping, yes... something best left unawakened... he goes into the places that are not, but he does not understand them... lucky little bat...”
Strikira snorted. “Ooever 'e is, lucky for 'im 'e ain't 'ere...”
Eldritch shook his head. “Not here, no, not now. He flitted away, and took something of ours... perhaps he will bring it back...” He stumbled off again, tripped over something that definitely was not there, and curled up mumbling on the floor.
“Well... -that- happened.” Ferric got up and gently moved the still-mumbling Eldritch to the adjacent lounge and laid him on a couch before going back to her meal. “What do you think -that- was all about?”
“'E's gotten into 'is book again, 'e 'as.”
“Yeah. He showed it to me once. Looked blank inside to me, and he just sighed and muttered something about not being surprised I couldn't see it either. But nuts or not, he insists that it lets him do things if he's willing to pay the price. And if he was using it, he thought there was something important.”
“'The book's real enough. It may only show what's in it to 'im, but it's indestructible and weighs whatever it wants to. It's also waaaay creepy.”
Ferric shook her head. “Not just that. Whatever he reads from it, he only gets that way -after- he's used his powers. He's always had reasons to use them. So, what can we put together out of his ravings? Something that you've seen, and I was a raccoon, but the -wrong- one... Wait. That notice you sent out the other day, about what you said Miracle reported, she thought it might have been a super using stealth...?”
Strikira blinked. “Right. She said the air movements felt like...” She glanced in the direction of the lounge. “A bat.”
“Right. Jot that down, maybe when he comes back to himself he can tell us what it meant. Little bat, flitting between the walls...”
“Through th' walls between th' worlds. An alien teleporter?”
Ferric thought about it. “He's magically based, not scientific. Does he mean other solar systems? Or other planes of reality? Seem to recall reports about Super-Genie being able to make her own dimensional pockets. So either someone who can teleport between solar systems, or someone who can teleport between dimensions, I'd guess. And taking something away, but maybe he'd bring it back? He left with something from our world?”
Strikira shrugged. “Yer guess is as good as mine, luv. Maybe better, you seem to make more sense of him than I ever can. Scribble it all down on a napkin so ya don't ferget it, an' talk to Elaine about it.”
“I'll do that...”
“Miss Morningstar, ma'am? Can I interrupt you?”
The bison femme who was both the National Heroine of the US, and the Regional Director for North America, looked up from her paperwork. “Please do, Ferric.” She grinned. “PLEASE, do... it's a paperwork day.” She waited until the girl had settled gingerly into a chair. “What's on your mind?”
“I was just having brunch with Strikira, and Eldritch came in. He was a bit out of it, I'm afraid...”
“Hmmm. Means he's been working on something. He hasn't been on any missions recently.”
Ferric nodded. “That's what I thought. Anyway, he was rambling on about something, and I -think- it makes sense if it was something to do with that stealth incident Strikira reported.”
“Oh?” Morningstar was very cautious about touching the hybrid's mind, but she knew that he actually -did- see things in that book of his that nobody else could.
“Yeah. He was going on about...” She consulted her notes. “Little bat, flitting through the walls between the worlds – emphasis on singular, several times in his speech. One bat, never bats. Looked at me and Strikira, said something about the wolf and raccoon seeing him, but I wasn't the -correct- raccoon. Then something about me being more real than the rest, but I think that was more a distraction than part of the oracle thing he was doing. He's mentioned that before, I'm harder to do magic on than most folks, probably because of the iron. Last things he said were about the bat maybe waking something up that he shouldn't some day, and that right then he wasn't here but had taken something from us. So I was thinking, if there's someone out there who is either an alien from another solar system, or from another dimension, it would match up both with what Jenna and Miracle saw, and what Eldritch was saying.” She paused. “So I guess I'm asking, do you think it makes sense, and...” her voice got quieter. “Does the Bureau actually know if aliens or other dimensions exist?”
“It does make sense, doesn't it?” Morningstar thought about it, gently probing the young raccoon's mind and spirit with her own powers. “And... I think you're mature enough to handle it. Yes, to both of your other questions. There are aliens, and there are other dimensions. There are even a couple of supers right here in Colmaton who are not... native to our Earth, shall we say?”
“Really? Cool! Who-- no, I shouldn't be asking. Maybe I can figure it out on my own.”
“It wouldn't surprise me. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, though. Did Eldritch say anything about whether this was a friendly entity or not?”
“Ummm... friendly, I think. He said 'He means well, but...' just before the part about waking up something nasty.”
“I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not... You seem to get along with Algeron better than most of the people here, Sally.”
She shrugged. “He's not bad, except when he forgets to shower. Even when he's crazy, he kinda makes sense, you just have to work at understanding how. He... reminds me of some of my old crowd. They weren't all like Matt – some of them really -were- freaks. But I made friends with them anyway, because we didn't really have anyone else.”
“You're a very good person, Sally. Don't ever change that.”
Ferric grinned. “Don't tell the bad guys. I think I'll be more effective if I do the 'Raccoon Smash!' bit in public.” She paused for a moment. “That reminds me. Without me being there this year, I wonder how my old Freak Squad is doing? Is there a way I can check? The school's website is no help at all, and Mrs. French is probably deliriously happy that the Yeagers are out of her hair for good.”
“Hmmm. Maybe we can do something along those lines. How's Jake coming along with that holo-image gimmick of his?”
“He's got it up to three hours before the programming locks up, but it still won't do the tail properly.”
“Maybe he should be doing a Clydesdale mare, rather than a grizzly sow. That way there'd -be- a tail for the program to use to cover yours up.”
“I'll ask him. Thanks for the chat, Miss Morningstar.”
“Thanks for telling me what Eldritch had to say, Ferric. Now go do some studying before it's lunchtime.”
“You got it, ma'am!”
TO BE CONTINUED...
Arrival at Colmaton
The ferret was a good deal less nervous than the previous time he had visited the shipping office of Chenango Warehousing Ltd. Not that he was overconfident – the Cape Buffalo who ran the company as a business front for other activities was not someone to take lightly – but this time he was reporting a positive development rather than being called on the carpet. He'd made the effort of looking, if not truly presentable, at least not glaringly out of place in a business setting, with his black hair combed, his jeans actually belted at his waist, and a proper black polo shirt instead of a black t-shirt and red do-rag.
He entered the inner office at a nod from the secretary, an attractive young bison cow (if you liked vapid top-heavy blondes with a fondness for chewing gum and pink hoof polish). He stood quietly while the Cape buffalo in the gray Armani suit finished up his current task. “Well. Daniel again. I was not expecting to see you. Do I need to demonstrate to your colleagues that they need to pay attention to orders, or did they actually have the good sense to select you as their new chief?”
“They picked me, Mr. C. Manny's behind bars, Frank, Benny, and Leroy are still in the hospital. So I made a few deals with a couple of the boys. Pete lost too much face when he pissed himself during the fight. Just between you and me, sir, I don't really blame him that much, the iron raccoon was goddam scary when she got goin', but... still looks bad, y'know? But I offered to make him my second, and he took me up on it. So who else was there? Bert? Bert's good muscle, and he's got your back in a fight, but nobody would trust him to set up an orgy in a whorehouse.”
The buffalo snorted a brief laugh. “That does sum up Bertram in a nutshell, doesn't it? Very well. I approve, Daniel. You obviously had to make alliances to achieve this, which means there is potential for you to be something more than a minion in due time. You have an opportunity to make something of yourself in the organization. Try not to squander it.”
“Nossir, Mr. C, I won't. I've reestablished our protection arrangements – hadda make a couple examples, furs thought they could slack off after we had that little problem with Ferric and Miracle, but we didn't have ta kill anyone. Quite.”
“Wise. Bodies attract attention, and the dead do not pay protection. What about the masks?”
“Haven't seen that Ferric newbie again. Miracle a few times, same with the Bureau chick who dresses like a bumblebee and talks like Crocodile Dundee...”
“That would be Strikira, I believe.”
“Yeah, her. And once that nutbar cougar who wears a blindfold. My orders to the gang are to back off when one of them is around. They can't arrest you for wearin' red and black, and there's always somethin' somewhere else to attract their attention if you behave while they're watchin'. So we lose a day, mebbe two, a week but we stay under the radar.”
“And proceeds are up from your neighborhood. I would say you are already doing much better than your predecessor. I believe that when the others are released, I will first make sure that they understand that I approve of the new situation.” He focused on the ferret. “As long as the news stays good, of course. Accidents happen, I won't be so unreasonable as to demand an increase every week, but I won't tolerate stupidity.”
Danny nodded. “I understand, Mr. C.”
“Excellent. This whole business may turn out to have been a blessing in disguise after all. It's up to you to make that happen. I'll see you next month, Daniel.”
The night air rippled in a dingy alleyway as something appeared. It was a very odd way of appearing; a dark spot expanded first into a line approximately four and a half feet long from the ground to its tip. It then expanded into a flat image of a bat dressed in a metallic-mesh tunic and trousers, and finally expanded into a full three dimensions. The bat frowned at his surroundings, then spread his wings to flit up to the top of the run-down apartment building on the south side of the alley. From this vantage point he studied the immediate area for several minutes, and then he began to speak. He spoke softly, apparently to himself, in a language no one in Colmaton would have understood without telepathy even if they had been both close enough to hear him and had ears capable of detecting ultrasound.
[Log entry, Colonel K'ree Tana*karishi t'Ski\riish. Have arrived in 181-314-Tau-Samekh-54-101-226. I have apparently crossed a fractal boundary; my arrival point was within a city that does not exist at all in 181-313. Technology levels appear to be late 20th to early 21st century standard. Radio frequency transmissions exist in high density, analysis started. Will engage chameleon field and retreat from the urban area until I can find out more. End log entry.]
About a dozen blocks away, he overflew a wolfess in yellow and black, and a raccoon-femme in a green bodysuit, also watching the city from a rooftop. <Ayup. Typical Tau-Samekh intersection. Superhero timeline again. Multiple sapient species, no humans present so far. Hope there are bats.> He didn't notice the raccoon glance up and then stiffen as he passed overhead.
“What in the world...?” The raccoon gestured to her companion and directed her attention to the flyer. “What's -that-?”
Strikira glanced up. “Just a pigeon. Now what were...”
Miracle shushed her. “Trust me, that was -not- a pigeon. It's trying very hard to -look- like one, but there's too much weirdness about it. It's actively -producing- pigeon shaped echoes, but they don't match the incoming sound correctly. It's sucking up what comes in and producing a different echo. And the air currents around it are more like a bat flying.” The term she used was for a fellow sapient, not the small ferals.
“Really? The wolfess' eyes narrowed as she stared after it. “You're right, it's flying too straight for a pigeon, and you usually see them in flocks. And in daylight...” She shrugged. “Neither of us can chase it. Something I'll let the Bureau pass around, and you can do the same with the unregistered community. Someone's using some very advanced stealth. Might be a new unregistered, might be government or a villain. Now, what were you telling me about the Knives...?”
“They're starting to recover from the drubbing Ferric and I gave them just before Christmas. Their new leader is a ferret, goes by Danny. He's not nearly as big as some of the thugs in the gang, but he's smart enough to be a lot more dangerous in the long run. And although some of them are out on bail, their old chief isn't and a couple of the others are still in the prison hospital.”
Strikira chuckled. “Yeah. Kid's still learning to pull her punches.”
“Does she -really- weigh a ton?”
“Nearly.”
Miracle whistled softly. “Well, that -would- explain why she makes so much noise when she walks... anyway, War Wolf and I are both quite curious as to how the boys pulled enough lawyer-power to get most of them out for now. She's looking into it. She asks that you people don't stir up things by running your own investigation just yet, she'll let you know what she finds.”
[Log Entry, Day 2 local. Initial impressions are mostly confirmed by observations so far. The Axis World is a Terra variant, with multiple intelligent species over the Chordate phylum. Major languages are very close to Terra Prime standards, as are major historical events. Local tech is definitely early 21st Century, in agreement with the local calendar, with the usual anomalies related to the existence of metanormal individuals. There are hints of both interstellar and interdimensional contacts, but these are not yet confirmed.
One primary variation from Terra Standard is the role the United Nations has taken with regard to metanormals. They managed to broker an international treaty which purports to set standards for safeguarding both normals and the metanormals while allowing the metanormals to act in support of civil society. The Russian, Chinese, and American governments immediately proceeded to ignore various provisions of the agreement, as suited their national characters. Even without this blatant abuse, the Bureau of Superheroes that was set up tries to maintain a database of all the metanormals and their 'secret identities' while providing very little in the way of protection from abuse of said database by their own operatives. Somehow they have muddled through in spite of several rogue operations abusing the database in exactly that manner, and since they have been lucky so far, they have done nothing to correct the problem. Inept even for bureaucrats.
Possible contraband item from this timeline is a very nasty little chemical designated as 'somaform'. It is rumored to target females as a knockout gas and temporarily shuts down female metanormal's special abilities. If it is not simply an urban legend, I will need to obtain a sample for analysis; if it is dependent on local conditions, a quarantine may not be necessary, but it seems something that should be kept away from slavers with extreme prejudice.
I am happy to report that there are bat sapients here! One of the broadcasts included a film clip of a bat metanormal in local Philadelphia. All I need is local clothing and ID and I can blend right into the background, always a good thing with metanormal timelines. There always seems to be someone who can see through the chameleon field. End log entry.]
Identity documents, he mused, were actually easier to obtain than local clothing in timelines with an early internet. All it took was a quick bit of pick-pocketing, a scan of the local documents to get the template, and then you let your much more advanced computer insert the proper records into the local database while the pantograph produced the physical card. And while that was happening, you returned the wallet to your unknowing confederate.
He actually had the opportunity to do it to what looked like a local police officer heading into a place called the Dixie Diner. “Excuse me, sir! You dropped this!”
“What?” The big Great Dane saw the bat holding his badge and wallet. “Cash Tankenson wants to know how you got those!”
“Err... you dropped them? I said that.”
The dog growled. “Cash thinks you're a pickpocket! And you're going down!”
“What? If I were a pickpocket, why would I be giving them back to you?”
The dog's companion, a young red-headed vixen officer whose name-tag read Henderson, rolled her eyes. “He's got a point, Lieutenant. Remember what happened the time you tried to arrest that badger who stopped a purse-snatcher? Chief McGee put you on parking ticket duty for a week. And made you apologize in public.”
“Cash still says McGee stole his job!”
The vixen rolled her eyes again. “How I got stuck with you this shift, Lieutenant, I’ll never know.”
K'ree faded away while the pair of them bickered. <By the Pantheon. How did that idiot ever get promoted to Lieutenant? Stupid is more dangerous than intelligent opposition, sometimes...> He ducked into an alley and took stock of his new documentation. <Okay... local name Kerry Skydancer, decent picture... heh. And a police badge in that name as a bonus. Probably shouldn't use it with actual cops, though. Small enough group that they might know I'm not one of them, even if I am in their database now. Next step on the agenda, cash a gold nugget in for currency, and buy some local clothing. And then I can turn off the imager and take my time checking the place out.>
Ferric was still dancing on air (an impressive feat for an eight hundred kilogram raccoon) two weeks after Christmas. She'd ended up staying with her family for three days – it was decided that there was no real risk as long as she was prepared to duck out if a visitor came up the long drive from the main road, and the Bureau had put in a full coverage security perimeter when the family was moved from Pennsylvania to the Upper Peninsula. The visit had cheered her up enormously, even though Techrat's preliminary attempt at a holographic disguise was not entirely successful - she'd had to hold her tail tight against her leg so it wouldn't stick out and turn her into a ring-tailed grizzly at the Christmas Eve service. But he'd been reviewing the data and the whole episode had given her hope that she would be able to set up a new secret identity and have a normal life again someday.
At the moment, she and Nandi were drilling each other in geography while Jacob Randle, aka Colmaton's boy genius Techrat, did the monthly maintenance on his armor suit. “Poland.”
The bear-mouse-leopard hybrid girl grinned. “Easy one. Capital Warsaw, location southern coast of the Baltic, bordering Lithuania, Belarus, Ukraine, Czech and Slovakia, and Germany.”
“Left one out.”
“I did?”
“That little sliver of Russia where they ate East Prussia after the Second World War.”
“Oh, right. Why haven't they given that back?”
“Everyone there these days -is- Russian, Nandi. They sent the Germans packing back in the 50's. Besides, it's Russia. When have they -ever- given anything away without being forced?”
“True. Your turn, Sally.” The raccoon passed the atlas over to her friend. “Let's go with Belarus.”
“Umm... Capital, Minsk. East of Poland, landlocked by the Baltic states - “
“Name 'em.”
“Drat, ya called my bluff. Lithuania and Latvia, definitely. Never remember if it borders Estonia.”
Nandi peeked at the map. “It doesn't.”
“So then Russia and Ukraine. And... you get Russia!”
Techrat's email chimed at that moment. “Hang on, girls, we've got an override message.”
Nandi grinned. “Saved by the beep!” She scooted over and took the opportunity to snuggle with Jake while he opened his email program and called up the priority message.
Sally leaned over from behind them. “From Strikira. Stealth Super?”
The message was brief. 'G'day, everyone! Was on patrol, talking with Miracle when she spotted something or someone flying under some major stealth. Looked like a pigeon to me, but she said it wasn't right based on echoes and such. She thinks it was actually a bat, either with some kind of serious cloaking tech, or a newbie unregistered hero. It was heading north out of the Windsor district when she spotted it. Full details in the action report to follow, but keep your eyes peeled.'
“Huh.” Sally grinned. “We need to find that bat! He could help you get mine working better, I bet.”
Jacob rolled his eyes. “Only if it's compatible tech, Sally. More likely it would be like trying to make a diesel engine work better by sticking a spark plug in it.”
“But diesels don't use... oh. Right. Gotcha. Still, it can't hurt to see how this one works, right?”
Jake shrugged. “Probably wouldn't. Windsor, eh?” He called up the city map of Colmaton. “Oh, there it is. Isn't that where you had your little run-in last month, Sally?”
“Near there, yeah. Let's hope it's a new super, that neighborhood can use the help.”
Colonel Tana*karishi sighed. Either the beer was uniformly bad in this timeline, or the establishment he was patronizing didn't carry any of the good brands. This was the third one he'd tried, and they were all swill, as far as he was concerned. The fellow he was keeping his ears on, a weasel who was a walking stereotype of the sort of gangster who confused flashy clothing with class, was nursing a mixed drink instead of the beer, so he was hoping it was the bar.
He was always amused that most visually-oriented sapients forgot that a mirror reflected sound nearly as well as light, letting him sit facing away from the target and still listen to his conversations. The fellow was definitely a go-between from what he'd heard so far, and therefore the first link in the chain he needed to obtain the samples he was interested in. He beckoned the bartender over, and laid a fifty down. “I understand that the gentleman in the corner booth is a... businessman.”
The fox nodded. “And a regular customer here. He makes sure I don't have any problems with the local riff-raff, if y'know what I mean. Or from busybodies.”
“I quite understand.” The bat pulled a pouch out from under his pull-over shirt, and spilled a dozen or so gems into his hand. He selected a ruby and placed it on top of the fifty, putting the rest back in the pouch and returning it to its hiding place. “Give him this for me, and tell him that I have a proposition for him.”
The fox's eyes went wide at the sight of the gems. “I'll just do that, sir. Won't be a moment.”
He watched openly in the mirror this time as the fox trotted over with a fresh drink for the weasel and the gem. The weasel looked up, and glanced in his direction as the fox pointed. “Yessir, Mr. Firenzi. He's got a whole bag of 'em. Says he's got a proposition for you.”
The weasel nodded, and the bartender came back over. “He'll see you now.”
K'ree put another fifty on the bar. “Thank you.” He got up and walked over to the booth. “May I join you...?”
“Sure thing, siddown. An interesting little bauble you sent me. Looks real.”
“I assure you, it is quite real. Consider it a free sample. Have it appraised.”
The weasel looked at him for a bit. “So... what are you thinking? That I might be a fence?”
The bat smiled. “I can also assure you, Mr. Firenzi, that it is not 'hot'. It is merely... shall we say, Unregistered?”
“You do interest me, Mr....?” The weasel asked the question with his hand.
“Call me Skydancer. I represent a gentleman who has his ways of producing... crystals... such as these, and other specialty items of this sort for those who need them. He wishes to use his ability to generate a comfortable lifestyle, but the Bureau is stuffy about using one's abilities for...” the bat gestured air quotes. “...personal gain, particularly when one hasn't registered with them -because- of that same stuffiness. Benighted bunch of socialists, in my opinion, with that breed's aversion to letting anyone make a profit.”
“Ah. I -do- understand your client's difficulties, Mr. Skydancer. He needs a way to sell these baubles without attracting attention to where they are coming from?”
“Precisely, Mr. Firenzi. He has additional interests in the long term, but to begin with, he simply wishes to sell a reasonable number of gemstones through intermediaries who can keep the government – and the Bureau – from noticing.” He took a black cloth out of his shirt, and then spread a good two dozen gems out on it. “I am authorized to allow you two additional gems of your choice to test to confirm his bona fides. The ruby is yours to keep, for your trouble. I will be back here on Tuesday, I believe that's the 12th, to negotiate terms if you wish to enter into an agreement.”
“That's very generous of your client, Mr. Skydancer.” He selected two medium sized stones, an emerald and a sapphire, and wrapped them in a silk handkerchief with the ruby. “I'm sure we'll be able to come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement.”
“Excellent. In that case, I won't take up any more of your time tonight. Until next Tuesday?”
“Until then. Arrividerci, Mr. Skydancer.”
They both stood up, and shook hands. “Au revoir, Mr. Firenzi.” The bat turned and walked out the door.
The badger stared after him, remembering the rest of the bag. “You want I should follow him, Mr. Firenzi?”
“Not this time, Tony. I think he's smarter than to let himself be followed easily. He's a bat, after all. He can fly.”
“Oh, yeah...”
“And Mr. Chenango wouldn't appreciate scaring away a source of gemstones like these. If they check out? Stuff like this is worth a lotta dough, Tony. Worst case, we've got three high quality rocks for nothin'. If it's for real? Could be worth millions.”
According to the official building plans, the building was a simple three-story townhome converted to apartments. In reality, it was one of the Night Guard safe houses set up by War Wolf and Spectra to meet and practice with her closest allies. This evening, the pair had been joined by the green-clad Miracle. She and Spectra were engaged in some friendly sparring while Erica took things easy, or at least as easy as she ever did. The silver-haired wolf was recovering from being shot two nights earlier. Even her specially designed armor did not allow her to shrug off rifle bullets with impunity, and while she disliked inactivity, she knew better than to risk permanent damage by ignoring injuries.
Since she was not able to patrol effectively, she was taking advantage of the forced off duty time to track down a money trail. Miracle and a new Bureau super – Miracle said she called herself Ferric – had taken out a large number of the Twin Knives gang after they had attempted to attack the young super, not realizing what she was capable of. Four of the gang were in the hospital, and the young lion who had led the attack was still in custody, but the rest had somehow made bail. She intended to find out who had arranged it.
“And... we're in. Let's see...” Armed with the police report and Bureau case numbers, the list of accused fursons in the assault was easily obtained once she had made it through the security programs, and their individual records were downloaded. “Not the first time for most of them, it seems.” She flipped through several of the folders. “And bail was arranged through Shoreham and Associates. I've run across them before. I don't have court-level proof yet, but I know they're tied in with Rigar's organization.”
“So the Knives here are definitely part of his empire?” Miracle asked.
“Most likely. Shoreham does plenty of business outside of that, of course, but the selectivity in this case tells me that the gang didn't arrange it themselves. They didn't bother bailing the injured ones, and the leader didn't get bailed out – which means that someone is Sending A Message. He screwed up by attacking a super, and he's going to pay for it. We'll see if that means he's just going to be cooling his heels 'til the trial, or if they're going to let him take the fall, but someone isn't happy, for sure. They don't have attorneys of record yet, but I've got a suspicion it'll be one of Bakk's junior partners.”
Spectra padded over to look at the screens over War Wolf's shoulder. “Lovely bunch, aren't they?”
The wolf merely grunted in response. “Now, this new Bureau agent. Haven't found much on her. A couple of local interest things here in Colmaton – she's appeared in public in costume a few times, either alone or with other Bureau agents, doing -civilian- things, almost like she doesn't have a secret identity. Shopping, things like that. There are some unsubstantiated rumors about an appearance last spring in a little town in northwest Pennsylvania. The only official activity, though, is assisting with the rescue effort in September after the Valparaiso Earthquake. This tells me that she's most likely underage, and was brought into the Bureau early for some reason. Probably something involved with the Pennsylvania rumors, would be my guess. Miracle, you've met her. What can you tell us about her?”
“You're right about the underage thing. She admitted she's thirteen, though I would say she's very mature for her age. Her accent's definitely Eastern, so the PA rumors could be her. She mentioned that she blew her civilian identity and that she doesn't know where her family is since they had -theirs- changed to protect them.”
War Wolf nodded. “So she probably doesn't -have- a secret identity, as such. I take it she's unusual in some way?”
“Several. She's huge for a raccoon, taller than -I- am, and she's still growing. She's massive even for her height, to the point where I was having trouble reading anyone -else's- position in that fight. Strikira confirmed that her offhand comment of 'I weigh a ton and I glitter' was -not- an exaggeration. She said she's made of iron, and her scent certainly bears that out. She's doing training in martial arts, presumably with Combat, but she's not very far along yet. Super strong and mostly invulnerable, she shrugged off a knife in the back.”
“Invulnerable, not fast-healing?”
“No blood. She was mainly annoyed that it tore her costume and concerned that the whole affair might have damaged the Christmas presents she'd just bought.”
Spectra chuckled. “She's got her priorities a little backwards, doesn't she?”
Miracle shrugged. “She called the cops before she checked. And she didn't do anything to the boar who tried to knife her except scare him.”
“She threatened him?”
“Nah. He stabbed, nothing happened. She turned around, grabbed him, and picked him up by the front of his jacket. He pissed himself at that point.”
Spectra snorted. “Eeeew.”
“That's what -she- said.” Miracle turned her blind eyes toward War Wolf. “And she's a fan of yours. She didn't ask, but I'm pretty sure she'd like to meet you sometime.”
The wolf snorted. “I don't have time for fans. I have more than enough to do without wasting time socializing.”
The raccoon nodded. “She understands. As I said, she didn't ask. But she told me to pass on a thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being who you are. Pretty sure she's got the comic book version of you in her head, but they've got the whole 'grim, yet supportive and dedicated' thing down pat.”
“The movie changed their focus,” Spectra grinned. War Wolf just snorted in response. Miracle continued.
“Anyway, she used that as a focus during what must have been a -very- awkward childhood. She said it kept her from lashing out at the other kids; apparently her nickname in junior high was 'Queen of the Freaks.' -Before- they found out how strong she really was, I gather. So... guess ya helped keep a young super from going the villain route, and she wanted you to know.”
War Wolf sat quietly for a minute, uncharacteristically pensive. “Tell her I appreciate it, the next time you see her.”
Miracle smiled. “I'll do that.” The smile turned into a mischievous grin. “She also mentioned she has one of your action figures, and it does an outstanding job of keeping the monsters under the bed from poking their noses out.”
War Wolf just glared as both the raccoon and the lioness broke out laughing.
Algeron Marshweeve, who called himself Eldritch in his Bureau identity, frowned as something faint but unmistakable tripped one of his more arcane senses. He'd been getting hints of it since New Year's, but this one was intense enough to give him a sense of where it was. -Something- was moving in and out of this plane of existence, right here in Colmaton. It was not a being of immense power, but it was doing so without being summoned, either. <I wonder if anything powerful enough to be dangerous if summoned would – or even could – send its own minion ahead to summon it? I hope not.> He sighed. <I suppose I need to check the Libris Lacunae again... and I was so enjoying being sane...>
K'ree had been exploring up and down the 5-axis while waiting for his pocket pantograph to produce more gemstones. He'd been especially amused by 181-314-Tau-Samekh-62-101-226, which as nearly as he could tell was identical to 54 but was completely gender-reversed, down to having National Heroes instead of Heroines – and a male-effective version of somaform. -That- had been less amusing to discover, and he'd already made contact with that universe's Miss Firenzi to start the process of obtaining samples of the stuff. Whatever the results of his interference were going to be in either reality, he intended to keep the two as close to identical as possible, down to locating that universe's Cash Tankenson to pickpocket for identity paper samples. That had been weirdly different, though. Instead of being automatically suspicious when he returned them, the female version had decided he was 'cute' - and flirted instead. <I suppose I should've set the imager to 'female' to keep things balanced. Live and learn, K'ree, live and learn. Although learning -that- about Tankenson was just disturbing.>
But it was the 12th, and he was back at the Fox's Den with a small briefcase, trying to decide whether or not Killarney's Red Ale rose above the level of swill. <At least it's a higher grade of swill. Why don't industrial timelines ever make mead on a commercial basis?> Firenzi had nodded as he came in, but had hooked a thumb in the direction of an empty corner table and had made no move to join him. He'd sent a text message immediately after that. K'ree assumed someone had been notified of his arrival.
He didn't have that long to wait, fortunately for his taste buds. The bat-femme who stepped into the bar was dressed like a hooker, but moved like a martial artist. She came over to his table, and smiled at him. “Hey there, sugah. Louie said you looked like you could use some company.”
The weasel gave him a slow nod when he glanced over, so he smiled back. “If it's the right kind of company, miss. Care for something to drink? I'm afraid I can't recommend the beer.”
She sat down beside him. “Dawson knows what I drink. Just give him a high sign, and he'll bring it over.”
K'ree signalled the bartender, who brought a drink over almost immediately. “Rum and cola, Miss Fujira. Just the way you like it.”
K'ree waited for the fox to retreat to the bar again. “You're a regular here?”
“Not that often, fortunately. But I'm often tapped when Louie's boss needs to meet someone from here. A convenient explanation for why they leave suddenly.”
He raised his mug in an ironic salute. “Indeed. So I assume that someone is indeed interested in making an arrangement with my client?”
“You assume correctly, Mr. Skydancer. Shall we finish our drinks and go?”
“Call me Kerry. And you may if you want – I think I'll leave most of mine behind. As I said, I don't recommend the beer.”
“I'm Lucy.” She knocked her drink back in one slug. “And mine's rum and cola, without the rum. As Dawson said, just the way I like it. I don't need alcohol in my line of work. Our driver's waiting in the alley.”
“Then let's be on our way.” He stood up, left ten dollars on the table, and walked out with a wing draped over her shoulders.
The limo parked around the corner was a black Lincoln, the driver a wolf in a black suit. K'ree withdrew his wing as soon as they were out of sight of the bar's windows, and Lucy nodded. “Very nicely done. And you didn't try to take liberties while playing the role. I like you better than most of my pickups already.”
He nodded. “I have found that attempting to take uninvited liberties with bodyguards rarely ends well, Miss Fujira. And you are either a bodyguard, or something even more dangerous.”
She smiled, showing teeth. “Lucy really is fine. I -definitely- like you better than most of my boss's associates. Are you hiring?”
“Sorry.” They got into the car, and the driver started off. “I'm not really in the market for a bodyguard at the moment. And if anyone needs killing, I prefer to handle it myself.”
“Oh? You don't seem the type.”
“I rarely find it necessary. There are usually alternatives.”
“Sometimes.” She was silent for a time, then resumed the conversation. “Mister Chenango will be negotiating with you. He will have a jeweler with him to appraise what you have to offer.”
“That will certainly save time.”
“He has also told me to make sure that you are not bringing any recording devices with you.”
K'ree frowned. “Understandable, but inconvenient. -Everyone- has a cellphone these days. Tell you what – I can turn it off and lock it in one of the smaller cases.” The limo had more than enough room for two bats, and he placed the briefcase on the seat between them, opening it to reveal a dozen locked boxes with touchpads. “I'll just transfer these, and you can confirm that it's off.” The cellphone was a standard local product, bought since his arrival. His real communicator was miniaturized molecular circuitry and concealed as a ring. He dumped the gemstones, topaz in this case, into a cloth bag and let Lucy place the cellphone into the metal case before sealing it shut. “There. Now I can't use it without spending too much time to get it out. Happy?”
“You're too cooperative to make me happy, Kerry. I -will- have to frisk you when we get there.”
He grinned. “I'm looking forward to it.”
She snorted, amused in spite of herself. “Charming rogue, aren't you?”
“One tries. But it only works on other bats.”
The rest of the ride passed in silence, the bat-femme watching their surroundings carefully as they went. Eventually, they turned into the yard of a warehouse complex and from there down a ramp into the lower deck of one of the buildings, a loading dock concealed from casual view. “Our venue for this evening, I assume?”
“You assume correctly.” The wolf parked the car and held the door open for them. Lucy followed him out, then patted him down for weapons and wires. “He's clean, Charles. Let's go.” He led the way inside, and they rode up to the top floor in a freight elevator. From there, the wolf led them down a half-lit hallway to a lavishly appointed conference room, somewhat out of step with the rest of the place.
Four furs were waiting for them. On the left side of the table was a mole, with the tools of a jewel appraiser spread out around him and the three gems he'd given to Firenzi laid out on black velvet. Two were obviously bodyguards standing behind their principal, a ferret who seemed ill at ease in his black suit, and a polar bear who could have been carved from marble before being dressed in his. Between them sat a Cape Buffalo in a gray suit who nodded as they entered. “Mr. Skydancer, I presume?”
He nodded, setting his briefcase on the table as Fujira and Charles stood behind him, counterpoint to the bear and the ferret. “And you would be Mr. Chenango?”
“Correct. You have more samples with you?”
“Quite a few. Enough to be a first delivery, I hope.”
The buffalo raised an eyebrow. “You have that much trust in us, Mr. Skydancer?”
“I have a great deal of faith in your own self-interest, sir. I can bring you this many gemstones on a monthly basis. Why would you wish to confiscate the first installment and receive no further shipments?”
“A point, sir. Very well. Herr Unterberg, would you tell Mr. Skydancer what you reported to me about the three gems he gave us earlier?”
“Certainly, Herr Chenango.” The mole turned nearsighted eyes in the bat's direction. “Zese chems are flawless, Herr Skydancer. Unusually so, in my experience. Und zey do not seem to have been cut und polished, as zey do not have zee usual marks to be expected from zose processes. Und yet zey have zee correct densities und refraction of chemstones. How did you obtain zem?”
K'ree smiled. “As I told Mr. Firenzi, my client is an Unregistered individual. His power is not one that can be used in combat, a mere curiosity in many ways. He can manipulate crystals at the molecular level. If I may...?” He gestured at his briefcase. Chenango nodded, and he popped it open, selected a box, and let his fingers play across the touchpad. It opened to reveal a set of two dozen emeralds cut in varying styles. “He takes the raw material from simple substances, clay and rocks and gravel for the most part, though emeralds require a source of beryllium as well. Diamonds he can make literally from coal or charcoal.” He passed the box to the jeweler, who peered at several of them through a loupe before nodding.
“Zey are chust as zee first one, Herr Chenango. Flawless, apparently cut in ze standard types, but...” He peered at the bat again. “If I am not mistaken, from your deshcription of your client, zey haff been formed chust as zey are, vit no -need- for cutting und polishing, ya?”
K'ree shifted languages. “Richtig, Herr Unterberg. Ganz richtig.” The mole beamed, and the discussion went back and forth in German for a while, until Chenango cleared his throat impatiently.
Unterberg started. “Entschuldigen Sie mir, bit-- Excuse me, please, Herr Chenango. It vas easier to clear up zat point in my natiffe speech.”
“And that point being...?”
“He can produce eizzer pre-formed chemstones such as zese, or vuns zat appear to be natural, und vhich can zen be cut und polished in ze usual vay. He brought zese because to ze layman's eyes, efen a flawless diamond iss merely a lump uff, uff... vas ist schmierig...?”
“Greasy.” Skydancer supplied.
“Ya, danke. Ein bit of greasy rock. You vouldn't haff brought some like dat, vould you?”
“Actually...” He reached under his tunic and brought out a bag.
The jeweler spilled it out onto a fresh cloth and gasped in astonishment as a half-dozen pebble-sized chunks fell out. “Mein Gott...” Unterberg picked up a slightly yellowish one, felt it, and peered at it through his loupe before handing it to the buffalo. “Zat, Herr Chenango, is tvice ze size of ze Hope Diamond before it vas cut. Ve could not sell it zat vay, I fear. It vould attract far too much attention, ya? It seems such a pity to break it up, zough...”
The bat smiled. “And yet most people would not even know what it was. Geologists, jewelers... and customs agents, unfortunately. The point is that he can supply gemstones, precious or semiprecious, in either finished or raw forms, as you prefer.”
The buffalo nodded. “What about gold?”
Skydancer spread his hands. “Unfortunately, gold is an elemental substance. He cannot make atoms, only rearrange them. Coal to diamond, yes. But not gold from lead. He -could- turn existing gold into apparently natural nodules, complete with quartz inclusions, though, if you had a need to disguise the source of some existing gold.”
“A pity, but I foresee no such need at the moment. But I'm sure that we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement with these. What is he requesting in payment?”
“I was instructed to ask for seventy-five percent of retail value for pre-formed gemstones, fifty percent for natural ones...”
He eventually left with an advance deposit of 1.3 million dollars to a Swiss bank account and an agreement for forty percent of the wholesale net once the stones had been sold. “A pleasure doing business, sir.” Chenango watched him go, once again escorted by Fujira and Charles, then turned to the ferret who'd been acting as a bodyguard. “And that, Daniel, is how things work in the big leagues. Make sure your people do not disturb Mr. Skydancer in any way, nor allow anyone -else- to disturb him as long as he remains within your territory.”
The ferret nodded. “Absolutely not, Mr. C. He's got an apartment in the building at Forty-four and Douglas, but I'm not sure how much time he actually spends there. But we'll make sure nobody bothers the place. Or anyone else in the building, for that matter.”
Chenango actually smiled. “Very good, Daniel. That is -exactly- correct. If you should find anything out, report it to me, but do not try to follow him. I suspect he would notice, and that would be a very bad thing.”
“Not our job, right?”
“Exactly. I suspect that Ms. Fujira will be far more likely to be able to seduce Mr. Skydancer than you ever would.”
The ferret laughed at that. “Not my type, Mr. C. An' I don't think I'm his type, neither.” It was only after his initial reaction that he realized Manny, the former chief of the Twin Knives gang, would have taken it as an insult, and quite possibly gotten himself in trouble over it. <Be just like the big jerk to be insulted when the boss is actually unbending enough to crack a joke with 'im.>
“Indeed. You are dismissed, Daniel. I'll have Boris drop you off if you need a ride. You might as well keep the suit, you may need it again.”
“Thanks, Mr. C. I'll see you again in three weeks for the regular monthly, right?”
“Correct. Monday the first.”
Nobody was on the street when the limo dropped off the pair of bats at Forty-four and Douglas except a pair of feral rats and a feral raccoon watching from the cover of an overflowing dumpster. The opossum in the ragged hoodie who appeared to be sleeping off a bender in the next alley over was watching through their eyes. <That's Chenango's pet assassin, dressed up as a cheap call girl. Wonder who she's with? And why?> Vermin let the raccoon and rats continue their foraging as the pair went inside, and switched to tracking their progress by the mice and roaches in the walls of the apartment building. <Okay, fifth floor, the elevator's still working... Apartment 512. Huh. Place is nasty, the furniture is the cheap crap that comes with a furnished apartment in this neighborhood, and the mice are complaining that there's no food there. And.. yipe!> The pair had just vanished, right before his borrowed eyes.
The Windsor District of Colmaton had been a much nicer place in 1952, which it still -was- in timeline 48. K'ree had decided to make it his 'local' base for exploring the timelines nearby; it was conveniently a building that existed in quite a number of the realities he was exploring, which made it easy to sideslip back and forth without attracting attention – and it was uninfested and in much better shape than its counterparts in 2016 (aka timelines 54 and 62). Fujira appeared with him, shaking her head and swallowing hard to get her stomach back under control. [Lousy bastard super. Warn a girl properly next time.]
[My apologies, Lucy. I did ask if you -really- wanted to go home with me.]
She shook her head. [And of course you speak Japanese, as well as German. My apologies for what I called you.]
[Quite all right, I deserved it. Most furs end up losing a meal the first time, even with a proper warning. I'm impressed that you didn't.]
[It wasn't easy.] She looked around. [A bit old-fashioned, but much nicer than that dump in Colmaton. Teleporting does make it easy to get around unseen, I take it?]
[You could say that, yes.]
[We could use someone with that kind of talent, if you're interested in taking on other clients besides this mysterious gem-maker.]
“I already have an interesting and fulfilling job, Lucy. Best we shift to English – if the neighbors overhear us speaking Nihongo or Deutsch, it won't be pretty.”
This earned him a very puzzled look. “Why--?”
“Not now. Just trust me on that.” He waved to one side of the room. “Have a seat, and tell me why you're here. Have you been ordered to seduce me, or have you decided on your own to try it to fulfill your orders to find my client?”
She settled on an armchair, and gave him an appraising look. “Well, that's blunt. Does it matter which?”
He grinned. “If it's your idea, and you still want to try it knowing that we both know it won't work, I don't have a problem with the idea at all. If you don't want to, you've got my permission to report that you tried and it didn't work. Just don't tell your boss I prefer boys, he'll throw one at me and I'd really rather not deal with that.”
She chuckled. “Deal. Kinda both, really. He told me to gain your confidence, and he knows I use seduction as a tool for that when I can. Not everyone finds us attractive, after all.”
He sighed, gazing into nothing, remembering too many worldlines where that was true with a vengeance. “No... no, they don't...”
“Bad memories?”
“Far too many. I'm a lot older than I look, and my work takes me to very unpleasant places sometimes.”
“You -do- intrigue me, Kerry.” She got up and walked over to him, leaning down to nuzzle between his ears. “Let's see if I can seduce you into offering me a job, if you won't tell me who your current client is while I'm working for the buffalo.”
“Okay, now that might just be something you could do. Let's see if it works, shall we?”
Ferric was in the Base cafeteria, munching her way through her second meal of the day while chatting with Strikira. The Australian wolf was still in her civilian guise as one of the waitresses at Dixie Diner after finishing a breakfast shift. “By th' way, luv, heard back from Miracle. She says ya managed to get through War Wolf's armor, just a little. She def'nitely appreciated yer thank you.”
Ferric beamed at that news. “It was only the truth, after all. It was her public reputation I was idolizing, but from what I've read since I got here... it's not that far off.” She turned serious. “I read the reports about the Sandstalker incident – the one out on the island. She really -is- that good, isn't she?”
The wolf shuddered, reminded of the helplessness of being slowly poisoned, merely bait for the ibex to play her sick games with War Wolf. “Wouldn't be here without her, luv. She really -is- that good. Sandstalker plans ten moves ahead. War Wolf -beat- her at her own game from a standing start. Yeh want someone to idolize, she's a bonzer sheila for it.”
“Well... if you ever need muscle for something, let me know. I might just sneak out and accidentally show up there.”
“You just stick to yer trainin', kid. We've got Medic Mouse an' Ranger for stuff like that, and you don't need to be getting' mixed up with that sort of thing at your age.”
Ferric sighed. “Too late for that, y'know. Someone out there tried to kidnap my family to coerce me into being an experimental subject. There's a target on my back already. I don't want to sit in here for the next five years until someone like Preceptor decides I'm magically old enough to help the day I turn eighteen.” She turned to face the Australian wolf. “And I'm a farm girl. I know what they're leaving out of the official reports. Some of the villains are real sickos. I'm surprised they don't slap an X rating on the ones about Sharpfury.”
“Heh. I don't think they figured on 'avin' folks like you and Jake bein' able to access 'em. Fair enough. But give it a bit yet. Combat says yer makin' good progress, let -him- give you a go-ahead before you start buckin' the bureaucracy. I've seen what you can do with those javelins he got you fer Christmas – now ya got to learn to do it to what yer aimin' for.”
The raccoon blushed. “Okay, you've got me there. I'll be good. For now.”
“Glad t' hear it, luv...” She paused, glancing up as someone else entered the cafeteria. “Bleedin' 'ell, 'e's 'eadin' over 'ere, an' 'e don't look like 'e's 'avin' one of 'is good days.”
Ferric looked up, to see Eldritch weaving in their general direction, giggling to himself. She sighed... the wolf-raccoon mix reminded her of some of the odder oddballs she'd protected before she'd blown her secret identity. She was sympathetic to him, but even so, she was a bit creeped out sometimes by his behavior. “Not his fault his powers drive him crazy. At least it wears off.”
Strikira muttered, “So far...”
Eldritch weaved his way to their table – not as if he were drunk, but as if he was avoiding obstacles that only he could see. “There you are, little wolf, wolf... and a raccoon, but not the right one...” He peered at Ferric. “You're more real than they are, yes, heehee, harder to change... but what is reality? Holes there are, yes... more solid, but...” He blinked, and turned his attention back to Strikira. “You have seen him, yes... little bat, flitting, flitting through the walls between the worlds, he does... He means well, but someday he may flit somewhere and wake up something sleeping, yes... something best left unawakened... he goes into the places that are not, but he does not understand them... lucky little bat...”
Strikira snorted. “Ooever 'e is, lucky for 'im 'e ain't 'ere...”
Eldritch shook his head. “Not here, no, not now. He flitted away, and took something of ours... perhaps he will bring it back...” He stumbled off again, tripped over something that definitely was not there, and curled up mumbling on the floor.
“Well... -that- happened.” Ferric got up and gently moved the still-mumbling Eldritch to the adjacent lounge and laid him on a couch before going back to her meal. “What do you think -that- was all about?”
“'E's gotten into 'is book again, 'e 'as.”
“Yeah. He showed it to me once. Looked blank inside to me, and he just sighed and muttered something about not being surprised I couldn't see it either. But nuts or not, he insists that it lets him do things if he's willing to pay the price. And if he was using it, he thought there was something important.”
“'The book's real enough. It may only show what's in it to 'im, but it's indestructible and weighs whatever it wants to. It's also waaaay creepy.”
Ferric shook her head. “Not just that. Whatever he reads from it, he only gets that way -after- he's used his powers. He's always had reasons to use them. So, what can we put together out of his ravings? Something that you've seen, and I was a raccoon, but the -wrong- one... Wait. That notice you sent out the other day, about what you said Miracle reported, she thought it might have been a super using stealth...?”
Strikira blinked. “Right. She said the air movements felt like...” She glanced in the direction of the lounge. “A bat.”
“Right. Jot that down, maybe when he comes back to himself he can tell us what it meant. Little bat, flitting between the walls...”
“Through th' walls between th' worlds. An alien teleporter?”
Ferric thought about it. “He's magically based, not scientific. Does he mean other solar systems? Or other planes of reality? Seem to recall reports about Super-Genie being able to make her own dimensional pockets. So either someone who can teleport between solar systems, or someone who can teleport between dimensions, I'd guess. And taking something away, but maybe he'd bring it back? He left with something from our world?”
Strikira shrugged. “Yer guess is as good as mine, luv. Maybe better, you seem to make more sense of him than I ever can. Scribble it all down on a napkin so ya don't ferget it, an' talk to Elaine about it.”
“I'll do that...”
“Miss Morningstar, ma'am? Can I interrupt you?”
The bison femme who was both the National Heroine of the US, and the Regional Director for North America, looked up from her paperwork. “Please do, Ferric.” She grinned. “PLEASE, do... it's a paperwork day.” She waited until the girl had settled gingerly into a chair. “What's on your mind?”
“I was just having brunch with Strikira, and Eldritch came in. He was a bit out of it, I'm afraid...”
“Hmmm. Means he's been working on something. He hasn't been on any missions recently.”
Ferric nodded. “That's what I thought. Anyway, he was rambling on about something, and I -think- it makes sense if it was something to do with that stealth incident Strikira reported.”
“Oh?” Morningstar was very cautious about touching the hybrid's mind, but she knew that he actually -did- see things in that book of his that nobody else could.
“Yeah. He was going on about...” She consulted her notes. “Little bat, flitting through the walls between the worlds – emphasis on singular, several times in his speech. One bat, never bats. Looked at me and Strikira, said something about the wolf and raccoon seeing him, but I wasn't the -correct- raccoon. Then something about me being more real than the rest, but I think that was more a distraction than part of the oracle thing he was doing. He's mentioned that before, I'm harder to do magic on than most folks, probably because of the iron. Last things he said were about the bat maybe waking something up that he shouldn't some day, and that right then he wasn't here but had taken something from us. So I was thinking, if there's someone out there who is either an alien from another solar system, or from another dimension, it would match up both with what Jenna and Miracle saw, and what Eldritch was saying.” She paused. “So I guess I'm asking, do you think it makes sense, and...” her voice got quieter. “Does the Bureau actually know if aliens or other dimensions exist?”
“It does make sense, doesn't it?” Morningstar thought about it, gently probing the young raccoon's mind and spirit with her own powers. “And... I think you're mature enough to handle it. Yes, to both of your other questions. There are aliens, and there are other dimensions. There are even a couple of supers right here in Colmaton who are not... native to our Earth, shall we say?”
“Really? Cool! Who-- no, I shouldn't be asking. Maybe I can figure it out on my own.”
“It wouldn't surprise me. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, though. Did Eldritch say anything about whether this was a friendly entity or not?”
“Ummm... friendly, I think. He said 'He means well, but...' just before the part about waking up something nasty.”
“I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not... You seem to get along with Algeron better than most of the people here, Sally.”
She shrugged. “He's not bad, except when he forgets to shower. Even when he's crazy, he kinda makes sense, you just have to work at understanding how. He... reminds me of some of my old crowd. They weren't all like Matt – some of them really -were- freaks. But I made friends with them anyway, because we didn't really have anyone else.”
“You're a very good person, Sally. Don't ever change that.”
Ferric grinned. “Don't tell the bad guys. I think I'll be more effective if I do the 'Raccoon Smash!' bit in public.” She paused for a moment. “That reminds me. Without me being there this year, I wonder how my old Freak Squad is doing? Is there a way I can check? The school's website is no help at all, and Mrs. French is probably deliriously happy that the Yeagers are out of her hair for good.”
“Hmmm. Maybe we can do something along those lines. How's Jake coming along with that holo-image gimmick of his?”
“He's got it up to three hours before the programming locks up, but it still won't do the tail properly.”
“Maybe he should be doing a Clydesdale mare, rather than a grizzly sow. That way there'd -be- a tail for the program to use to cover yours up.”
“I'll ask him. Thanks for the chat, Miss Morningstar.”
“Thanks for telling me what Eldritch had to say, Ferric. Now go do some studying before it's lunchtime.”
“You got it, ma'am!”
TO BE CONTINUED...
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