Super Reporter System - Job Offers
Chapter Type: Character Development, World Background
Nobody called police when they found the dog's severed paw and ear; the worker figured there had been some kind of epic dog fight, the kind he'd have wanted to wager money on. He picked up the scraps, and put them into the dumpster.
And so, they were never linked to the headless people.
#
Femme Falcon had woken last night, noticed that Brian was not with his family, and Samantha had reset the alarm, rolled back over, and returned to sleep.
Now, sipping dark coffee, she pondered her options. The Johnson building was tall enough; she could probably buy a lawn chair from Walmart and stake out the top of the building without too much trouble. But, being her, she was also looking for an option with no trouble at all attached to it.
She COULD spend the day in civilian clothes, walking around like…
Well, like a normal.
She took another sip of coffee, and considered her options.
#
Sergeant Walker, apprised of where Brian had spent the night in his morning brief, was rolling out, less than ten minutes away from UAB.
Brian had slept in, and was woken by his phone. No, wait, not HIS phone, but the one on the stand next to his bed.
As he contorted himself to reach it, he wondered what dunderhead had planned such an inefficient layout.
[Inadequate information for a theory at the current time.]
System, do you need sleep? "Hello? This is Brian."
[System is not alive as you understand the term. However…]
"Mister Matthews. I am the Trenchcoat."
"Trenchcoat? What kind of name is that?"
"My name sucks. We don't have time; just listen. You're about to get a call and a visit from different members of the federal government. Don't trust any of them. I'll try calling you later today."
And then there was dialtone.
"That was a weird call." Brian said.
[True. It is likely we cannot trust this individual, either.]
"Yeah, what sort of doofus picks a name like Trenchcoat?"
[Uncertain. Would you like System to resume discourse on power-down cycles?]
'Nah, not unless it really matters.'
A button started flashing on his phone. Brian immediately realized this was another line, silently ringing.
"Brian." He said, after hitting the button.
"Ah, excellent. Brian Matthews, my name is Doctor Crey-Brain. I trust you've heard of me?"
"Nope. Not a word."
"Well, then. My case is much like yours, Brian. I also came into contact with a Seed of Destiny, and I also selected mental enhancements. I asked for a brain like a computer, and received upgrades equivalent to a late Colossus codebreaker, the Model Five to be precise. But I can tell by your breathing that you aren't truly interested. Have any other job offers come your way, might I ask?"
"Look. I came into contact with a Seed, sure. But I don't have any super powers. I'm not putting on Spandex or Kevlar, or Kevlarex, or whatever."
"First, don't lie to me. I can tell by the micro-warbles in your voice."
'Micro-warbles?'
[Not an actual scientific term. Ability described is possible.]
"Okay, fine. What's second?" Brian asked.
"Have you considered joining the government effort to prepare for a multiple-power supervillain?"
"What? Those don't exist."
"Those don't exist YET, Mister Matthews."
[Unlikely. Balancing the equation between multiple upgrades is much more likely to kill the host than to succeed.]
'How likely?'
[Roughly 996 to one, though I sense you don't care about the exact ratio.]
'So close enough to a thousand to one?'
[True.]
"Yeah, I don't see how spending too much money on that is a good use of taxpayer dollars. What exact organization did you say you were with?"
"It's part of the Pentagon Science Division, specifically.."
"Because it sounds more like the sort of government waste I'd report rather than something I would join." Brian said.
He heard a sigh from the other end of the line. "When the FBI and military make their pitches, remember that you are an American citizen with rights. I would rather you end up here than with anyone else who wants you, but it is clear you have made your choice. Have a good day, Mister Matthews."
"Yeah, sure. Blessed day to you, too."
He waited for the click, and then hung up the phone on his side, too.
'System, there have been multiple thousands of people made metas by the Seeds.'
[Correct. Based on probabilities alone, there could be as many as twenty-three multiple upgrade hosts worldwide.]
'Wait, twenty-three? Why have we never heard about them, then?'
[Theory: due to the energies required for multiple upgrades, the magnitude of the upgrades would be exponentially reduced.]
'Wait, you're telling me to find the most powerful meta-humans, I should be looking at the weakest?'
[False. To find the most powerful upgraded, find those with the most narrow focus. System cannot speak to utility or synergy among multiple upgrades.]
#
In a different hospital, James Baker, who calls himself Muscleborn, is making a different discovery. Having literally scratched through his bandages, he was surprised to discover skin underneath.
He moves to the mirror in the bathroom, now tearing at his bandages. There is a smile on his face.
He runs his hands over the new skin, feeling the itch underneath as the muscles slowly regrow.
"I have muscular strength AND regeneration." He says.
There is no System remaining to tell him otherwise.
# 10:38 AM
Brian Matthews has finished his daily regimen of showering and shaving. He steps from the bathroom, to notice two people in green camouflage in his hospital room. "Something I can help you gentlemen with?"
"We were just concerned if there were any side effects from your exposure, sir."
"No powers, no."
"No physical weakness? Unexplained fatigue? Mood swings?"
"Nope. I actually feel pretty good."
"If that changes, sir, we'd like to invite you to a rehabilitation facility on Redstone Arsenal."
"Why? I can see the military caring about people who gain meta powers. Why the rest of us?"
"The long-term health effects upon citizens is the concern of all Americans, sir. We're just doing our part."
'System, is he telling the truth?'
[Uncertain. Ability to detect lies directly is not something Brian associates with being a good reporter. However, upgrades do enhance his ability to discover lies through diligently discovering new facts.]
The soldier extends a business card. Like most Army cards, it is of low graphics on a slightly flimsy grade of paper. It is no wonder, Brian thinks, that officers go through civilian companies to get their cards made to professional standards.
"I'll keep it in mind, thanks. But I don't expect there to be anything like that. Don't most side effects show up in the first four hours?"
"Most isn't always all, sir. If you need us, we're here for you."
"Have a blessed day." Brian says.
"And a blessed day to you also, sir."
# 12:33 PM
Brian has heard that he is likely to be released before the end of day traffic rush. In spite of the way the hospital food refuses to settle in his stomach, he is relaxed when the short woman leans through his door frame.
"Brian Matthews?"
He is pleasantly surprised. She is tanned, but not darkly. Her chestnut hair seems to glow, almost as though oiled. Or maybe not just 'as though'?
[Inconclusive.]
"How may I help you, ma'am?"
"My name is Stephanie Cullough."
"Your name sounds familiar." 'System?'
[Searching.]
"I'm also known as Femme Falcon. I'm a member of the Meta Auxiliary Police in Washington, DC."
[True. Claim matches your memories.]
He sits down on his hospital bed. "Oh, wow. What is an actual superheroine doing visiting me? Huntsville isn't exactly close to DC."
"It's near enough as the crow flies, and besides, the Diviner says you've got the strongest concentration of neo-energy ever granted by a Flower of Fate."
'System?'
[Theory: If neo-energy is zero-point energy, statement is possible. System has sufficient reserves to last the remainder of your estimated life span.]
"Well, doesn't that mean that I have the weakest powers? Or, as is my case, no powers?"
"Sure it would, if all seeds were equal." She says, not deterred in the least. "But I've learned to trust Diviner. If she says you're a twelve on the power scale, then welcome to level twelve." <1>
Brian spreads his hands helplessly. "But I have nothing. No super strength; no speed; no energy manipulation, nothing."
"We have a battery of tests to check for powers you may not have thought of. Most of them you could take here, in the Madison police precinct."
"But that's… I've got no powers, trust me."
She looks at him as though he has been diagnosed with cancer of the puppy. "Brian, there are people who want to take their gifts and hide them. And that's okay. But if you ever want to use your gifts to help stop crime and injustice, there are worse ways than supporting the police force."
She extends a business card, which he takes. It feels a lot like his credit card does, like slick but easily breakable plastic.
He puts it into his wallet with the other cards. What else could today have in store for him?