The Power of Ten Book Four: Dynamo

Howie the gunsmith sort of blinked at me, then crossed his arms and frowned in thought. “Uh, how’s your strength?” he asked.

“I can probably throw you the length of the room?” I hazarded, and he winced despite himself at my example.

“So, no problem carrying a heavy load. I got something sitting around which might be useful. You know what a Widow’s Bite is?”

Maybe? “No,” I answered truthfully, and he looked to Mr. Hill.

“That the bracelets they use?” The Mountain grunted, and got a nod in reply. “Sting a bit, but they aren’t really made for use against someone like me.” He gave me an eyeball. “You’ll have to switch things up, or they’ll come around looking for their tech,” he warned Howie.

“Yeah, that’s why they are more a collector piece than something to resell. But, if you don’t need all the battery weight there to power the things, they can be stripped right down. Replace those with a short-term capacitor, and you’ve got a more accurate electrical blast.” Howie glanced back at me. “No lightning control?”

“None, besides being able to lock on something once I’ve hit it, and electricity is very prone to veering off course,” I confirmed.

“They cost me ten grand as a trade-in. If I keep the batteries and rehouse the focus, add a short capacitor and a new wrist-band to the set, call it ten and I’ll make the profit off mounting the batteries in something else for another customer,” he said after a moment.

“I doubt you paid ten grand for them, but since you can probably sell them for more than that as a trophy, that’s fine.” His eyes flickered and he smiled slightly. It wasn’t my money, anyway. “Also, do you have any explosive raw materials with the Lightning affinity, or know where I can acquire some? I need to grind them up into some ink or film.”

The look he gave me then was of someone who had just knocked on a beloved section of his heart. “You’re into explosives?” he asked with great interest.

I drew out a deck of cards, popped the seal, and drew out the pack. “Lethal weapons!” I stated with a thin smile.

“I’ve heard of charging up cards with Core techniques by some crazy people, but they’d really be better off with throwing stars or something, no?” He eyed me as if I were a bit strange... which was totally fine in his business. Easier to make money off of.

“Cheap, disposable, and easily writable. It takes a lot more time, effort, and money to carve up harder materials. Cards, you can just paint the Runework on.”

“Runework? Magic?” He held up his hands quickly. “Whoa, there, girl. I don’t deal in magic.”

“Which is why I didn’t ask you for Explosive Ink. I’ll make and apply it myself. But I need some Weird Materials to make ’em correctly.”

“Oh, now I gotcha. Hmm.” He scratched his sparse beard, looking around and thinking. “So... can you make explosives out of that stuff?” he asked in a leading manner.

“Why, you don’t do Weird Chemistry?” I asked right back.

“Only the simplest kind. I mostly farm out to the Mad Mixer for the special stuff. We’ve got a decent relationship. I make the ammunition, and he makes some of the special loads.”

“Mixer’s knockout gas is top notch,” Mr. Hill nodded at that. “Saves a lot of time cracking skulls.”

“I’m not going to compete with an established alchemist. That’s a good way to be on the receiving end of experiments in nouveau poisons,” I shook my head.

“I’m not asking you for payloads. I’d like to test out some different powder types.” His eyes lit up with anticipation.

I kind of frowned. “Making up a batch of some Weird Powder won’t be that hard, but I’m not going into business with the stuff. I can do it as a one-off, but if you want a supply, it’s gonna be either spotty or you’re gonna be relying on someone else.”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully again. “Let me be frank. I know a lot of guys who use the oddest weapons because it fits their themes. Ice guys won’t touch guns. Lightning guys won’t use anything that doesn’t use electricity. Water guys don’t see the point, and air guys are totally dismissive of the idea. Strength guys just want big and explosive, nothing clean and simple. They often can’t hit the broadside of a barn, so they just bring down the barn.” He didn’t even look at Mr. Hill, who didn’t even bother to shrug.

“If I can make some ammunition that is triggered by their powers, instead of by fire, I’ll open up a whole new market. The price will be worth the time!” He was grinning dreamily at the thought.

It would also leave me in the dubious position of supplying ammunition for Powered with moral deficiencies... but who could finally stay on theme. Style over substance, as it were.

“I’d need an actual chemistry lab to work up anything like that. Ink I can make with a mortar and pestle, a Bunsen burner and a few glass vials.” I waved my hand absently. “I’m not setting up a base or anything right now, and I don’t have any materials to work with, nor am I someone who delights in production alchemy all day. Not to mention you’d probably try to film the whole process and sell it to Mad Mixer.”

His face twitched as if I’d caught him in something, and Mr. Hill harrumphed in amusement under his breath. “She knows you’re interested if she needs some cash in the future, Howie. You got some Weird stuff laying around, or not?”

“I got some aluminum and barium oxides with a Lightning bias around I couldn’t do anything with.” Yeah, on the science side those would be pretty unstable, and could go off with static electricity, or too much skin contact.

Get a neutral oil balm on them, however, and they’d work just fine for what I wanted.

“I’ll take ‘em.”

-------------

It wouldn’t take him all that long to make the adjustments to the Bites, since he’d disassembled them before to see how they worked, and he’d have them ready tomorrow. I walked out with a couple sealed jars of blue and silver powders in padded containers. Just needed an ink base, some oils, basic gear, and I was good to go.

“Alchemy. Your family spellcasters?” Hill asked, as we fired up for his next destination, which was a custom outfitter. Turned out his boots tended to get worn out pretty fast.

“I ain’t asking about your origin story, Mister Hill,” I replied, giving him a hairy eyeball, to which he just laughed gruffly.

“No, you ain’t. Surprised the Hell out of me with you being so tight-lipped on both fronts.” He guffawed deeply again, hur-hur-hur. “Number of kids your age who know when to shut up is pretty small.”

“Noise discipline is something you are taught, not something you inherit.” I tossed a thumb over my ear. “How big a sell-out is he?”

“He’d definitely sell ya working to Mad Mixer, and he’ll copy any equipment he possibly can. But if people lean on him, he tends to get pretty explosive on them back, and he knows a lot of folks he can call in with some favors, and plenty of literal firepower to make your life unpleasant. He ain’t hurtin’ for money, if you’re worried about someone bribing him.

“That said, the right pressure comes down on anyone and they’ll fold. You use his stuff to go massacring civilians and stuff, and he’s no fool. He’ll float your name out there to get you off the street as fast as anyone. If The Hag decides you’re supplying arms to mass murderers, she don’t give a shit more about you than the people you killed by proxy.”

“Kinda predictable that way?” I had to ask.

“Very predictable. It’s just getting her to move... or maybe she’s always moving, and just picks the time. Howie now, he’s a gun tinker, low on the totem pole. He doesn’t show it off, but he’s got Core training, and the few small-timers who thought they’d score some free gear by raiding his place paid for it hard. Get him out in the world and he’s probably a little lost, but on his home ground... well, he’s a munitions guy. You’re in a dangerous place.”

“I’ll play it straight with those who play it straight with me.”

“Best way to do business,” he nodded slowly.

“How do most of the people on this side deal with civilians?” I had to ask.

“Medical tech and Core powers can fix up most things short of lethal wounds nowadays, and have folks back on their feet in a week, so it’s not as bad as it could be. There’s tons of non-lethal options for taking normal folks out without having to get messy... and getting messy is the number one thing that has the law gunning for you.

“Property damage? Fine, just pays construction crews, makes rich folks buy more equipment, keeps people employed, sells newspapers, looks dramatic on TV.

“You kill folks, you ain’t lasting long. There’s been some Powered killers out there. The only way they survive is by being very secret about it, and leaving no traces or anything... and there’s a whole bunch of sniffers around who take totally mysterious crimes very seriously. Their own little world of cat-and-mouse, as I understand it.”

Detective vs mastermind was a specific sub-genre of comics, so that made sense. Add in a psychic and supernatural element, and it made even more sense. Games of shadows between overly intelligent and driven individuals...

Psychic serial killers against psychic detectives. Mmm. I didn’t know enough about laws and this world to see how the laws would interact with such things.

Superhuman killers who didn’t hide themselves basically made themselves into boss monsters to be overcome. Naturally, it came down to which side had the bigger monsters.

On one side were a fully-Leveled Sama and Briggs. I couldn’t imagine that was a line easy to overcome.

“How about killers OF Powered?” I had to ask.

“Huh. Some of those around, too. Bragging rights, mostly. They also don’t last long, and they pretty much know it, if they boast at all. Being part of a squad taking down a Powered is one thing, but you admit to the kill shot, you’re probably toast. If the Powered had friends, well, you probably still ain’t getting away with things. Powered die, they investigate hard, and most times you get caught.

“Then they go looking for the money what paid you. There’s been some very powerful people come to bad ends, open and not, for paying for Powered dying. The Hag has definitely killed some untouchable people for pulling crap and giving orders. There’s a lot of folks what want her dead for it, too... and a few more untouchable people come to bad ends every year for it.” His chest shook with his muffled laughter. “Stupid bastards. Anyone can see The Hag doesn’t fuck with people who don’t fuck with others, and even some rampaging around doesn’t get a reaction out of her.”

“She probably owns a lot of reconstruction companies,” I said knowingly.

“Haw!” He slapped the steering wheel gently. “Never thought of that. Probably true, given how much else she owns!”

I simply had to find out more about her, but she was Warded by a powerful effect, akin to Name of the Mage, and so no written or stored information about her was to be found anywhere, in addition to pictures and the like, which would also require piggy-backing on a Vampire’s Veil. No, no, she hadn’t been prepared for modern technology.

The Great Bear was pretty much the same way. That meant their current and past statuses were basically going to be defined by word of mouth, or the press releases that they had approved themselves. I found it pretty amusing, despite myself.

Then again, I had a lot to learn about this place.

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The Custom Clothier was quiet, respectful, and completely willing to do whatever wild and crazy custom idea I came up with, probably very used to dealing with either super-intense or emotionally unstable people. She informed me that there was an informal network of professionals like herself who catered to the Powered underground like this, and they were all called Custom Clothiers.

She was happy to see me go with something easy, in camo grey and browns, and also got a simple croupier outfit and mask to go with it. The fact I could make a Mask stick to my face without requiring straps or strings also gave her leave to try out some new things.