The Web of the Weaver: 11

The problem of working with Mush was that I couldn’t assume he was stupid. If he noticed I was only meeting him at night, never talking to him save by a creepy voice, he might start drawing conclusions I didn’t like. He might decide to strike out on his own again.

And given his previous decisions, it probably wouldn’t go well. But the books I’ve read stressed the importance of misdirection. Some of the characters were even stage magicians. Maybe I could learn that.

With what time?

I could keep track of what my bugs were doing, so if I could learn how to read with them… But so far, the best I could get were vague impressions. I could tell where people were, but nothing more detailed. Still, with practice…

But there wasn’t any time. I was going to meet Mush tomorrow.

So I had to be seen in the day, but that meant my bugs would be obvious. I would be obvious.

And who could be scared of a skinny fifteen-year-old who used bugs….

Wait a minute.

It wasn’t like there was some visible sign that I controlled my bugs.

And maybe the best way of ensuring that nobody linked Taylor Hebert to Orb Weaver was to have them both be in the same place…

I had most of what I needed—I just had to be out of the house a little early to… set the stage.

***** 

I had to confess, I was slightly surprised when I saw Mush walking to the diner I’d told him to come to, calling the hotel he was staying at from a pay phone, using Orb Weaver’s voice.

On the other hand, some of the books about addiction I’d read seemed to indicate that people like Mush were vulnerable to strong personalities. So I followed him in, the waitress giving me a suspicious look.

She probably wondered if I was here to give Mush drugs. It was that kind of neighborhood.

So Mush was sitting in a booth and then blinked when I sat down opposite to him.

“Hey, um, I—“

“A mutual friend sent me. I owe him.”

“Shi—him?”

It was odd. With the Merchants, Mush was as foul-mouthed as anyone, but here, in the diner, he seemed embarrassed when he almost cursed in front of me. He wasn’t attractive, but then that made two of us.

“Yes,” I said. “Orb Weaver told me to tell you that there’s a drug rehab clinic on fourth. They know you’re coming.” After all, I’d called them. “They don’t ask for names.”

“Okay.”

“And he wants to talk to you.” I pulled out a walkie-talkie.

This was a dangerous part. Mush might wonder why I was using a walkie-talkie instead of a phone.

The answer was simple. My bugs and touch screens had an issue that I hadn’t quite figured out yet. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t. Since I didn’t need to hear, I could just stick a walkie-talkie’s send button down and use it.

But Mush didn’t say anything.

“Hello Mush, Ms. Hebert. I see you arrived on time.”

“Um. I—shit!” I looked to the side, Mush following my gaze, and we both saw a cloaked form briefly appear on the roof of a building across the street before it vanished.

In truth, it was painted spider-silk and a hat, with a mass of bugs under it. It ‘vanished’ when the insects left.

But now Mush had seen Orb Weaver and Taylor Hebert at the same time, so he’d hopefully never think I was anything other than another one of the strange cape’s minions.

“Do not worry, Ms. Hebert. You have paid your debt to me… for now. Leave the walkie-talkie, and you can go.”

“Right,” I said. “Sorry,” I said to Mush as I took off.

I crossed the street and found a little corner where I could see him, but he couldn’t see me.

I was really going to have to figure out how to see through my bugs.

“Now that Ms. Hebert has departed, let us speak about your new job. Did you enjoy your hotel room?”

“Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t bad, but…”

“You are wondering what I desire of you. Well, nothing like a fight. You are nowhere near the condition needed for that.”

“I can fight!”

“Against Lung?”

Mush fell silent.

“I do not need parahumans to fight against the weak, but the strong. But I will not ask that of you. Not unless you decide you are willing to return the, ah, favor I have done for you of your own free will.”

“Crap, right. So what do you want?”

“You know of the Dockworkers Association.”

“Yeah. Bunch of guys hoping the Docks will come back.”

“Yes. That is for the future. Right now, there are several parts of the Docks that are unusable due to containers and such that were left, and the Association cannot afford to remove them. You will do that.”

“Make me a forklift?” Mush paused. “The Fuck?”

“How else can we train you in plain sight?”

“It sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is. But do this, and when and if you leave my association, I can make one promise to you.”

“What?”

“Nobody will ever call your Garbageboy again.”

“You think I’m worth it?”

There it was again. The tone. I knew that tone. Maybe Emma was really right about me?  Maybe all the people who laughed were just laughing at the truth, and I was the only one not in on the joke.

I’d expected to face parahumans. I’d started with the Merchants because they were easy. But of them…

I hadn’t expected to find that so many parahumans were just as broken as I had been. What would have happened if Mush had run into someone other than Skidmark? If Squealer had run into Kurt and Lacy, or Dad, when she first arrived.

Well. It was a good thing I was here to fix it, wasn’t it?

“Oh Mush, when we’re finished, I can assure you, that if you work at it… that will be a question nobody will ever ask.”

It was odd. He’d been hunched over for our entire conversation, but now my bugs told me… he was sitting straighter.

“Yeah. I’ll do it.”

*****

I had one more phone call to make that day. To dad.

“Hello, Danny Hebert speaking.”

“Mr. Hebert. I trust that Kurt and Lacy are doing well with their houseguest? I will have a place for her to stay in the next few days.”

“You’re…”

“Orb Weaver.”

“Right, yes, well, they say that  Maria’s doing fine. I don’t think you need to hurry.”

“That is good. Let me know if there is any difficulty, and I will see if I can resolve it.”

“Right.” There was silence. “So you didn’t call me for that.”

“No. The warehouse and docks on 43rd street, they are still technically owned by the Association, correct.”

“Yes…”

“Good. I would like to get permission to remove the garbage in that area and render it ready for disposal or salvage. A new parahuman needs to test his skills. There is no danger, and I expect the price you will gain for selling the scrap once it has been reduced to a usable size will be enough to pay for our use of Docks.”

There was silence. I wondered what Dad was thinking.

“That won’t work.”

What? “Why not, Mr. Hebert?”

“That kind of quid pro quo arrangement looks too much like getting in bed with a gang. Faultline’s crew asked for the same thing. You’d have to pay…” There was a tapping sound. “But we could hire you to clear that section and place the salvage where we could obtain it. Say… twenty dollars a day?”

It was a good thing my bugs didn’t transmit my feeling because I was confused.

“That would…”

“Make the paperwork go easily. It shows that you’re at least paying lip service to the idea that you need to rent the property, rather than just moving in. It also makes things easier for the IRS. It’s a small amount, but there’s a big difference between off-books and something written down.”

“I see. That will be acceptable.” I hope so. “But many parahumans are protective of their real identity…”

“As long as he’s not trying to pretend to be someone else, a Parahuman can sign as a DBA name. It won’t help with the IRS.”

“Very well.”

“I didn’t say yes. You’ve done some good things, but you’re new in town. Are you bringing trouble with you?”

“No. The only person who currently has cause to dislike me is Skidmark, and I will be meeting him later this evening… after which he will be in PRT custody.”

“Well, I’ll talk to my boss, but it’s been years since we’ve even had someone go through there with a broom.

“I will have my associate see you in the next few days. Good day.”

I leaned back as I thought about what Dad had said.

The Merchants just squatted or stole stuff, which made it easy to find. But if you have a lot of money, like Lung or the E88, and you bought something fair and square…

Nobody would think to look at it.

I pulled out my pad of paper and wrote on it: Investigate how financial crimes work.

Then I moaned. It was at the bottom of the page, with things like “learn martial art” and “finish homework” above it.

No wonder the Shadow was fiction. I was swiftly running out of hours in the day, to say nothing of my sleep.

But I’d just have to keep pushing forward. The city wasn’t going to save itself.