The Web of the Weaver: Chapter 22

Handling an open cape identity was part of my plan. The Investigator would be known. A minor thinker, possibly with minor brute and combat thinker abilities, but nothing special.

Orb Weaver would be the mysterious, frightening cape, and one that The Investigator preferred not to work with.

Perhaps I might even convince some of my targets to attempt to enlist the Investigator to find out about Orb Weaver.

Though that would be dangerous. An investigator conveniently showing up just in time to deal with another new cape?

No. If even I could see the connection…

In fact, I wonder if I should put up a conspiracy board “tracking” Orb Weaver in The Investigator’s lair?

Something to think about.

But now I was dressed up, cap over my hair, cloak and coat read, along with my other tools, including my cane.

I would also do some of Exterminator’s work. After all, I didn’t intend for the mysterious pest control cape to ever make a physical appearance.

The sun was lowering towards the horizon, a chill breeze coming over the Bay as I walked out onto the Boardwalk. I tagged everyone with bugs, but that wouldn’t be my main focus.

As I had at the school, I was using my senses to listen to the crowd to keep track of everyone.

“…who the fuck is that?”

“Dunno, but look at her tits!”

I didn’t roll my eyes. But evidently, the extra armor was coming in handy—and not obviously armor.

“New Protectorate Cape?”

“Nah, PHO would have spoiled it!”

“I’ll have the money! Honestly!”

“You’re two months behind. This isn’t a charity.”

A voice, out of the crowd, at the edge of my hearing. I couldn’t hear any better than I could have before triggering, but I could sort out everything that was being said. I headed for the voices.

One of the Boardwalk merchants was talking to another man, tall, well dressed. Likely one of the property managers.

The woman was wringing her hands, looking terrified. I glanced at the store. There were glass sculptures, and behind, at the rear of the store, a little work area where people could watch her work.

They fell silent as I walked in, my cane clicking on the floor. I glanced at the sculptures. “Quite nice,” I said.

“Thank you,” she told me. “Ah, do you want…”

“Buying one toy isn’t going to help you. I need—“

“Ahem,” I said. “How much is she overdue in terms of rent?”  He glanced at me, his eyes widening a little bit.

Capes were always unknown quantities, new capes more than most.

“Why?”

“Curiosity. I’m surprised that such an excellent collection is not meeting with more success.” I was proud of my light British Accent. I’d worked on it. But I wasn’t actually that surprised. Her items were very high quality—and very fragile, not to mention expensive. I expected that many people looked at them, thought about it, and then… walked on and, by the time they were done, forgot to go back.

Some of my books on the drug trade also brought up similarities to normal trade, and making a sale difficult, be it drugs or otherwise harmed the possibility of  a sale.

“Five thousand dollars,” he said.

“Then you’ll be happy to work out payment options, if she can start to make a profit in the next… month?” I asked.

“Payment options? I told you she was—“

“Tell me, have you found a new renter for the anchor store at the far end?”

“We are exploring possibilities—“

“As you have been for the last three months. Do you have someone for this property?” I looked at his face and noticed how he looked to the girl and then to the street. I took a risk. “No, I thought not.”

“How did you—no, but…”

“Tell me, Ms.?”

“Clarice. Janna Clarice!”

“Ms. Clarice, can you at least make payment for utilities?”

“Yes?”

“There you go, sir, if she cannot start to make up her debt by the end of the month, you have lost nothing, and you have the opportunity to gain more—or do you think someone who just lost their means of income will ever be able to pay you?”

It was a little unfair. I was ruthlessly abusing the respect  and worry people had about capes. And neither one of them thought that I might be faking, or they were unwilling to call out the possibility. No doubt they were both assuming that if I was a fake, well, real capes tended to take that quite poorly.

“The artwork by the cash register,” I turned away from it, obviously not looking at it. “Of Alexandria. Is that authorized?”

“Ah… no, but she’s a public figure.”

“Quite.” They were both looking at me now, between looking at the statue that I hadn’t looked at.

If they saw me as normal, the answer was clear. I’d just looked at it before and was going from memory.

But as a parahuman…

And then my bugs picked something up. A group of people, moving around oddly in one of the other stores. Two moving up in front, screening two others who were moving quickly to the dressing rooms, as their companions spoke to the clerk. I had picked them up because of the way they’d clustered together in the front of the store, as if they were planning something, then moving quickly—faster than most of the strolling shoppers were moving. From my studies, a picture-perfect example of a shoplifting raid.

I walked to the front and waited for them to come out. The Investigator didn’t have Orb Weaver’s omnipresence, after all. The four teens I recognized from Winslow. I sighed, then narrowed my eyes. Yes. There were bulges under their clothing. Just to confirm, I sent a bug in, and… Well, there might be a reason someone would wear three shirts, but few were good.

“You might wish to have those four checked,” I said. “The two in the rear are wearing more clothes than they should. It is fairly obvious—their companions distracted the clerk while they collected… boutique clothing?”

“What? I—security!” he darted away.

“Now that we are alone, why have you fallen behind on your rent?”

“My sales… they were great for the first two months and then…”

Then everyone in the immediate area had bought what they wanted.

Orb Weaver would find the money and then, in an ominous swarm voice, inform the shopkeeper that she worked for Orb Weaver.

In addition to terrifying someone who hadn’t done anything wrong, I wasn’t trying to draw attention to any similarities between myself and Orb Weaver.

“I have a minor Thinker ability,” I told her. “Negligible, really, but it does sometimes give me hints. What about your mail order business?”

“Mail order?”

“Before you opened this business, did you do a feasibility study?”

“I… No. I mean, I was selling down at Lord’s Market, and then my Grandfather passed away and left me some money, and I—“

“Stop.”

She stopped. I thought. Drug networks needed connections. Sources of investment. I hadn’t studied normal businesses, a lack that I was going to rectify, but it looked like she had the same problem. And yet… She didn’t have the money to run an advertising campaign, and she needed to be…

Wait a minute.

“You have reference for the Protectorate and Wards members, yes?”

“Yes, but they don’t purchase—“

“You won’t be purchasing. You will be giving it to them. As an act of thanks. Not just a simple figurine, but the very best you can create.”

“But they…”

“They will accept it, because you’re not asking them to buy it, and to refuse would insult the people of the Bay. And because you are skilled, they are likely to display your gift. After all, it is symbolic of the high regard they are held in.”

“But how will that help me pay the rent?”

I chuckled. “For one thing, the Boardwalk management may be less willing to throw you out, for another, people are more likely to purchase goods from someone with a better rep and an online sales portal.”

“But I don’t have one.”

“You will.” I glanced at her. “I will help you create it.”

“Why?”

“I am not suited to punching out bad guys, and crime… is sadly random. Why shouldn’t I assist my fellows?”

Two networks, both completely separate. Yes. This may work.

“Okay… I’ll… um, try to have a basic design by the end of this week, but what if…”

She fell silent as the property manager came stomping back in. “How did you know?”

“A hunch,” I told him. “They were guilty?”

“Not just the clothing store, but the jewelry store!” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me about the jewels?”

“The clothes were enough,” I shamelessly lied, having not even noticed the jewels.  “How much was it worth?”

“About two thousand dollars.”

“And there you have a month’s rent.”

He opened his mouth, stared at me, then closed it.

“Fine,” he finally said. “One more month.”

“Very good,” I said. “A pen and paper, please?” I asked the woman, who was only in her early twenties. She handed it to me, and I quickly wrote down my PHO account, which I had created, but not used, as yet. “Contact me here,” I told her and then nodded. “Good day.”

I was almost to the door when my bugs detected someone moving into the area, far too fast for a normal human.

Velocity.

And then he was standing directly in front of me.

*****

I knew that meeting the Protectorate or Wards would be a when, not if, of this Identity.

In retrospect, it made sense that when they heard of me being in the area, they’d send Velocity in. An unknown parahuman might be dangerous, and Velocity could withdraw, but equally didn’t present the possible threat Miss Militia or Armsmaster might.

“So, The Investigator, eh?” he asked.

“You’ve heard of me?”

“There were some comments on PHO, of someone solving a store owner’s little problem.”

“Hardly a problem,” I said, ignoring the people around us with their cameras. Also, I would not squeal. I sent that emotion into my bugs. “Merely a minor and regrettable case of… lack of forethought, now put right.”

“Mmm…” He nodded. “You know, we haven’t heard of The Investigator in these parts.”

“Or in any parts, unless your analysts are very poor at their jobs.”

“Got me,” he laughed.

“No, I’ve been a parahuman for some time, but this identity…” I opened my arms. “Is new. My power is quite minor, more of a hunch than a power, with some warning of danger and how not to get hit. But an Investigator doesn’t seek out a fight. I merely… solve issues, and right now, I’m establishing my bonafides.”

“Gonna be the Bay’s PI?”

“Well, every city that sometimes is prone to thick fogs needs a consulting detective, doesn’t it?”

He laughed.  “Yeah, you’re going with the classics.” Then he lowered his voice. “Just remember that some people around here are a little more violent. You know, if you were to join the Protectorate…”

I shook my head. “I may consider that in the future, but for now, I wish to remain independent—but I understand your warning, and I have little interest in involving myself in their affairs. As I said, I am a minor parahuman.”

“Well, can’t say I didn’t try.” He pulled out a slip of paper. “Just in case.” There was a code and phone number on it. I’d write those down and destroy the card just in case.

And you did try. But Velocity seemed unsurprised, and there was no reason to press me—all that was likely to do would be to lead to hostility. He had done this before, I expected.

“But…” he said. “Since this is your first time on the Boardwalk, I think it’s a good time for some pictures and autographs.”

Wait. What?

But then I was having photos taken of me, and people asking for autographs, as well as one girl wanting me to find out who her boyfriend was with.

“I would suggest, my dear, that you merely ask him,” I said.

“But what if he lies?” she asked.

“Then you will know all you need to know about his character.”

She nodded like I’d said some deep truth instead of a bunch of vague comments that could apply to half the people in town.

But soon enough, I bid my farewells and started home, the invisible net of bugs letting me know I wasn’t being observed. A few minutes later, I changed my clothes and then headed in another direction, and Taylor Hebert returned home.

Next: Interlude... and preparation for FACE PUNCHING!