We riding in an armored Rolls-Royce through the streets of Brockton Bay. Never before have I seen my city from the window of a luxury car. Soft leather seats, tinted windows, silence in the cabin—you can't even hear the engine purring with all its horsepower... and there must be quite a lot of them. This isn't just a car, it's a status symbol, the latest model of armored executive-class luxury. And it weighs considerably, accelerates almost instantly, and can stop just as quickly. Because speed and maneuverability mean safety.
"Just look at yourself," says Tattletale, sitting opposite in a white office suit and silk lavender half-mask. "How you've transformed. Just a good suit, styling, a stylist, and makeup."
"My face itches," I complain. "All this feels like it's getting in my way. Can I scratch?"
"Endure it," she replies. "Her face itches. So planting your wasps all over your face to hide your identity—that doesn't itch? But normal makeup—suddenly everything itches? Get used to it. You're now the face of our project, you can't scratch. You'll smear everything..."
"There it is. You're a tyrant, Lisa. An arrogant and presumptuous tyrant. I'll punish you," I mutter, restraining the urge to scratch my cheek and eyebrow.
"I heard everything," she nods. "We've arrived. I know you know, but I'll remind you once more—calm and confident. The trump cards are in your sleeve, not his."
"I know," I reply. The door opens in front of me and I barely restrain myself from jumping out of the car. I slowly accept the offered hand and exit—also slowly. They open the door to the city hall building for me. I walk across faded old carpets, noting to myself that the city hall building could use renovation. Behind me and slightly to my left walks Tattletale. In front—Jane Rodriguez, a mercenary and former commando. She, like Lisa and I, is dressed in civilian clothes—a strict black pantsuit, with a holster visible under her jacket. She opens another door for me. Elevator. Corridor, left turn, and a door marked "Reception."
"Taylor!" Henry McCallister rises from the visitors' couch, with whom we've long since moved to first names. "You look wonderful!"
"Henry. Have you been waiting long?" Getting used to addressing someone old enough to be your father by first name takes adjustment, but Henry McCallister is one of those people who are easy and pleasant to talk with.
"Just arrived literally," he replies and shakes my hand. "And Miss Tattletale. Good to see you."
"The feeling is mutual, Mr. McCallister." Tattletale and Henry aren't on the best terms—Lisa, as always, managed to get under his skin and somewhere was rude, insolent, and even threatening to my lawyer... remaining, as always, right on that line where just a little more and that's it. However, neither she nor Henry himself batted an eye while shaking hands.
"Well then..." Henry McCallister turns to the desk where sits a secretary, a pretty young blonde with a short haircut, a model from the twenties.
"Marian, Miss Hebert has arrived," he informs her, as if she doesn't have her own eyes.
"Just a moment, Mr. McCallister," she replies imperturbably, presses the intercom button. "Mr. McCallister and his accompanying parties for two-thirty."
She releases the key and rises from her seat, walks around the desk and opens the door marked "Mayor of Brockton Bay."
"Please..." and we enter the mayor's office, following her light gesture. Jane Rodriguez remains in the reception area.
The office is large, bright, floor-to-ceiling windows, but nothing ornate, nothing luxurious or eye-catching. Everything very simple and functional—a large desk, wall-to-wall bookshelf, a large city map on another wall, and extending from the large desk is a long briefing table with four chairs on each side.
"Henry McCallister!" Mayor Christner rises from behind his desk—a tall man in a good suit with gray hair, perfectly styled and cut. He somehow reminds me of a majestic lion in human form—everything about him is strict, expensive, and appropriate. Good suit, perfectly trimmed and styled beard and mustache, snow-white gray hair, broad smile, and athletic figure.
"Good afternoon, Roy." Henry responds handshake with handshake. Then he steps aside, introducing us: "And this is Miss Hebert. Taylor Hebert. She's accompanied by Miss, known as Tattletale."
"Very pleased to meet you, Miss Hebert... Hebert, Hebert... Danny Hebert—not a relative by any chance?" the mayor squints, shaking my hand.
"My father," I admit, returning the handshake and trying not to break his fingers. "Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Mayor."
"Not at all, Miss Hebert. The pleasure is mine, especially considering your more than generous donation to the city improvement fund and... donation to next year's campaign fund," he smiles and winks. "Honestly, when I promised whoever contributed the largest sum to the fund account a personal audience, I didn't expect it would work. And certainly not that it would be such a young lady. Your father made an impression on me, young lady. He knows how to fight for his own—so much trouble he caused my office..." he shakes his head. "Unions, eh?"
He turns his head to Lisa, looks her up and down, pausing for a second on the lavender mask covering half her face.
"Miss Tattletale? Did I hear correctly?" He extends his hand to her. "I don't know why you're here, but everyone who supports my campaign and shares the views of the city's progress party are my allies. True, some alliances have to be kept secret from the general public, if you understand what I mean..."
"Of course, Roy," Tattletale replies, immediately switching to informal address and casual conversation style. "And Miss Hebert is here precisely for this reason. To help you. I understand what you're thinking, but in our company she's the main one. No, no tricks. And no, the money we donated to the city fund and your campaign fund isn't stolen and won't lead to trouble. Yes, I also think my ass looks pretty good in this suit... and you can tell her about her figure yourself. Though... I wouldn't advise it."
"Uh... ahem!" the mayor clears his throat, embarrassed for literally a fraction of a second. But he's an experienced politician and quickly gets himself together. I send Lisa an angry look. She's starting to needle people around her again! Definitely need to go to meetings without her. On the other hand, this is her best trait—seeing what kind of people are sitting across from us... so I'll have to bring her to meetings anyway, but first stuffing a gag in her mouth and shoving a phone in her hands—let her text me. That's safer. And it's also clear what levers Tattletale pressed to make this audience possible. Mr. Calvert's most sensitive spot—his wallet. Money really does open doors.
"Please, have a seat," Mayor Christner makes an inviting gesture. "A promise is a promise. The audience must be conducted... and I would ask you not to read my thoughts in the future, Miss Tattletale. At least not out loud. And you do have a very impressive figure indeed... I envy your chosen one."
"Don't," I shake my head. "Sometimes she's simply unbearable."
"Well now..." the mayor tilts his head, watching us sit down at the long briefing table. "I don't know whether to sympathize with you, Miss Hebert, or envy you. I don't understand all these new trends. I can simply express my heartfelt gratitude for your generous donation to the city improvement fund. You'll probably be interested to know that your money will go toward installing new storm drainage in Downtown and the Docks, as well as clearing the old system. Road repairs and street lighting, plus cosmetic facade repairs on buildings wherever we can manage... I'm a strong supporter of broken windows theory and an admirer of what Rudolph Giuliani did with New York in ninety-four. Unfortunately, unlike New York, we have almost a quarter of the city under direct gang control..." he shrugs. "But what depends on us will be done. Your money won't be wasted."
"Honestly, I didn't know I had donated any sum to city improvement and your campaign fund," I say, preferring a policy of complete transparency. "I gave Tattletale the task of organizing this audience and that's all. She organized it. Nevertheless, I'm glad this money will benefit the city. After all, I live here and would like to see this city clean, safe, and prosperous."
"You surprise me more and more, Miss Hebert." The mayor leans back in his chair and drums his fingers on the table. "Is this audience so important to you? On Tuesdays I usually hold direct personal reception of citizens—you just needed to sign up..."
"The matter doesn't tolerate delay," I say, gently interrupting him. "And we have a gift for you. As a gesture of good faith. Tattletale?"
"Here." Lisa places a paper folder on the table and pushes it toward the mayor. "Interesting information here."
"Is this... some kind of blackmail?" the mayor frowns, glances at my lawyer. "Henry?"
"I have no idea what's in that folder," Henry McCallister shrugs. "But I've been dealing with Miss Hebert for some time, and if she says you need to look in that folder—then that's how it is."
"I don't like where this conversation is going," the mayor warns us, opening the folder. "What's this?" He turns the page, delves into reading, and a deep wrinkle cuts his forehead in half.
"What? Dinah? My niece Dinah is Prophet Twelve?! What nonsense! Henry!"
"Don't shoot the messenger, Roy," McCallister replies. "First hear Miss Hebert out completely and..."
"What kind of stupid pranks are these?! Dinah is Prophet Twelve?! This is ridiculous. Who are you people? Where did you get this? Why do you need this?!" Christner decisively slams the folder shut and pushes it away from himself with noticeable disgust on his face. "You were promised an audience, Miss Hebert, and it just ended. Good day." He rises from behind the desk. I continue sitting.
"And you said the PRT leaks like a wet dog after rain," I say, addressing Lisa.
"Well... the mayor's office doesn't yet have the resources to hack PRT databases. But everyone else already knows, don't flatter yourself," she says. "Your performance here doesn't change anything."
"Mr. Mayor," I turn my head to him. "Perhaps I should introduce myself again. I am Taylor Hebert."
"And your audience just ended," Christner said firmly, looking me straight in the eyes. "Please, young lady, let's not turn this into a problem. I'll call security and..." He stops short and falls silent, watching as a black mass of insects pours into his office directly through the ventilation grate gaps under the ceiling, flooding the floor and gathering into a humanoid figure.
"I have many names besides that one," I say, standing as my voice is duplicated by the buzzing and chirping of thousands of insects. "Poison Ivy. Butcher Fifteen. Administrator. Seventeenth of the Hebert line."
Silence fell in the office. The pale mayor stared at the black figure of insects, shimmering with chitinous shells and antennae, constant movement on the surface, thousands of small legs and wings.
"Well... I suppose trying to call security would be a waste of time," Christner finally said and smoothed his mustache and beard. "And I feel sorry for the security guys. Please sit down, Miss Hebert... or do you prefer a different form of address?"
"'Miss Hebert' or 'Taylor' suits me fine," I assure him. "Thank you. Thank you for deciding to continue the audience, Mr. Mayor."
"Please, just Roy," the pale mayor nods. "Apparently you don't need money. But where did I manage to cross you, Miss Hebert? If this is about that damn ferry, I already said it won't work... what's the point of a ferry if the port doesn't work?"
"Ferry?" I don't understand. "What ferry?"
"So you're not here about the ferry? Danny... your father with his ferry restart project has already worn a bald spot on my head," the mayor grimaces. "But the city simply doesn't have the funds! Besides, one of the ferry stations is right in criminal cape gang territory. I couldn't approve it. Even with your money, it's impossible. At best, if the ferry does start working—we'll just expand the Merchants' sphere of influence and double drug trafficking in the city."
"That's impressive," I admit. Most people in his position would have simply shit themselves, but the mayor keeps his composure and isn't going to make promises he won't be able to keep. Doesn't grovel, doesn't fall to his knees. Tough nut. Well... after all, he's a seasoned politician—I suppose in politics he's seen worse monsters. Old hand.
"Actually, you and I are allies, Mr. Mayor," I say. "You want order on the city streets and so do I. I brought you the materials about Dinah so you'd take all necessary security measures. A Prophet of her level will be in high demand, and people will be ready to pay any money for her services... but many might think to cut corners and not pay money, but simply kidnap her. Level twelve... imagine the level of players who would want to have her in their service. Predicting the future, its variants... it's a terrifying power, and in the wrong hands it will be more destructive than the entire Manhattan Project. Therefore—take measures to ensure young Miss Alcott's security."
"I would advise Dinah's parents to approach a high-level cape team with a mutually beneficial cooperation proposal," Tattletale adds. "Information about her abilities came from a verified source, but check everything yourself. Check it, then make decisions..."
"However, this information isn't the purpose of our visit. As I said—it's simply a gift from me. As for the purpose of the visit... I'd like to consult."
"You? Butcher Fifteen? How... unexpected." The mayor finally got himself completely together—even color returned to his cheeks.
"Yes. As you know, the ABB leader, Mr. Lung—left us as a result of an accident," I say. "His deputy Oni Lee also couldn't survive confrontation with an unknown cape. At the same time, Bakuda, Lung's second lieutenant—acted correctly, preferring cooperation with the Administration."
"With administration? Administration of what?"
"Administration is our group's name," I say. "In turn, choosing a pseudonym, I would prefer to be called not Fifteen, or that idiotic nickname from the PRT—Poison Ivy. You can call me either by name, or Administrator."
"Administrator..." the mayor says aloud, as if tasting the word. "Cooperation with the Administration. Bakuda switched to your side?"
"Which made ABB territory vulnerable from other gangs' perspective. The Merchants and Empire Eighty-Eight have already begun gradually moving into areas they didn't dare enter yesterday. Gang war for freed territories and expansion of their spheres of influence is inevitable."
"Unfortunately, my analysts predicted the same thing. Plus this dark horse Coil," the mayor sighs. "Really not the most attractive picture. Did you come here to threaten me?"
"No. I repeat again—you and I are allies. I want to establish order in the city... help you establish it. I have no authority from the population, no one elected me to office—you have all that. I propose we conclude a mutual aid agreement and recognition as part of municipal police service of neighborhood self-defense squads, formed in the city district from... concerned citizens."
"Concerned citizens? Like that girl currently waiting in the reception area?" the mayor narrows his eyes. "Perhaps among these concerned citizens there are capes?"
"Perhaps. I myself am quite... concerned," I admit. "But these squads will obey the rules and norms of municipal law regarding militia established in city territory."
"We have such rules? About forming armed squads?" Christner frowns. "Seriously?"
"Oh yes. You won't believe it, but no one has repealed the ordinances about forming such self-defense squads from local militia since Civil War times," Henry McCallister puts in his two cents and places another folder of papers on the table. "Here. I've outlined legal grounds, precedents, plus a draft agreement for creating a municipal self-defense squad formed from local militia. Let your lawyers look at it at leisure."
"And all these... local militiamen are actually local residents?"
"One hundred percent citizens and patriots of Brockton Bay, all voting for the world's best mayor," Henry McCallister lies without blinking. "After all, we all live here, don't we?"
"And... where do you get so many of these 'local patriots'? I know the district—no one will even stick their nose outside, the bravest left long ago or the gangs rolled them into the asphalt. I like the project, but you simply won't have support, Miss Hebert, and alone you can't... even with your abilities..."
"Mr. Coil, like Bakuda, also preferred cooperation with the Administration," Lisa says, crossing her arms. "And it so happened that we now have at our disposal a certain number of excellently trained and perfectly armed... local Brockton Bay patriots. The number of these... concerned citizens exceeds the entire city police department staff several times over. Besides, due to their concern and combat background, as well as equipment... acquired legally and with proper permits..."
"Oh, Lord." The mayor covered his face with his hands. "You absorbed Coil? But why do you need me? You apparently have everything sewn up. You already control almost half the gang territories..."
"We're not a gang. And I don't want us to be perceived that way. I could establish order in the territory through terror and violence, like everyone else. But I don't need a frightened city. All my squads will do is ensure order and law enforcement. Literally. All laws that every citizen obeys. Decrees and rules, norms established by the municipality, City Council—we'll help you implement them. You yourself said the ferry project can't be realized while one station is in Merchant territory. I want to establish order in the city, and I will establish it, with you or without. But it would be better for both of us if we cooperated." I say and lean back in my chair. I look at the mayor. Well, I've done everything I could. My offer stands—if he refuses, I'll decide what and how to do without him. I need a legal basis for action so citizens will trust me—there's nothing better than acting according to law... but if necessary, I'll manage without it. Plan Bravo. Lisa has that one too.
I stand. The audience is over, I've said everything I wanted. I'm not going to force him, compel him, or twist his arm. He looks like a smart person, but too much has fallen on him right now—Dinah and the Butcher in his office... he needs time to think.
"Goodbye, Mr. Mayor," I say dryly in farewell. "I hope we'll meet again. Tattletale!" Lisa crosses her arms, clearly not planning to go anywhere. Could it be...
"Just a minute!" the mayor speaks up. He wipes his face and blinks. Sighs.
"Miss Hebert, please wait. I... would like to hear your proposal and discuss it in more detail," he says. "I hope I won't regret this. But no lynch courts! No vigilantism! You turn detained lawbreakers over to police! And... if everything is as you say... just a second." He presses the intercom key. "Mary! Head of legal department to my office! Urgent! And have him bring that smart guy of his. Yes. Urgent!"
I look at Tattletale. She shrugs and mouths the words "I told you so." Show-off.