I stride through the corridors of Coil's backup base, feeling pretty decent. I have several experiments lined up that I really want to use to establish the limit of Panacea's ability - why I can heal and create the same abominations with organics as Panacea herself with my second body, but through my Swarm I can only do diagnostics and barely at that. Of course this is from the same category as "powers are bullshit" - why Clockblocker's power only works for five to fifteen minutes, and the Butcher's teleportation for example doesn't work over water (I learned this in a rather unpleasant way).
However, an experiment is an experiment, just like the experiment of growing human clone bodies in eight bathtubs with biogel... or work on von Neumann machines in plant form. And of course - direct improvement of my insects. Now you can't even call them insects anymore. What my Medicis and Stingers have become are small but very fast and strong drones capable of shooting darts coated depending on the target - either with neurotoxin or a biological agent that plunges the recipient into deep, healthy, eight-hour sleep courtesy of Panacea. Thanks to Amy's abilities, I no longer have concerns that overdosing on this substance will cause negative health consequences. I can stick a person from head to toe with these stingers, and they'll still sleep exactly eight hours and wake up whole, unharmed, full of strength and energy. God, I'm thinking of stinging Lisa with this thing once a day - she works herself to exhaustion. She should take example from Coil, now there's someone who doesn't overwork and generally treats himself with extreme reverence - war is war, but lunch is on schedule. As well as breakfast, dinner and healthy sleep. Plus personal life... I don't even want to know about that.
I turn the corner and run nose to nose with Bakuda. I must say that without her provocatively biker clothes, which you'd only wear racing through the desert in "Mad Max" - she doesn't look like Lung's lieutenant, criminal authority and crazy bomber. She's quite tall - my height. She has strong, powerful thighs and a broad chest. No, of course she's far from Narwhal's or even Miss Militia's measurements, but still. Now she's dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt and some vest with pockets.
"Boss," she says, stepping back. "Sorry. Didn't notice."
"Bakuda," I nod. "No problem. How are things?"
"Everything's fine," she looks away. "All tip-top."
"I can feel it when you start lying to me," I cross my arms. "Come on, spill what's wrong. Someone bothering you? I asked them to give you creative freedom and all that. And I assigned you a salary. The amount doesn't suit you? Is Lisa trolling you again, not giving you peace?"
"Uh... no, everything suits me. Good money, official position and possibility of legalization - also great."
"Well... I'm still working on that, but the PRT won't want to lose such talent for anything. Not after I turned half the beach into glass with your bomb. And the first strike..." I shake my head. "You're talented. No, wrong word, you're simply incredible. A genius. Your bombs, their effects - this could be the key to victory over the Endbringers. So I don't think the PRT will throw you out in the cold, it's not in their interests. It's in their interests to give you amnesty and all that. But they'd rebrand you and your cape persona. Call you 'Holy Grail Bomb' and off you go."
"Stupid name," Bakuda snorts and immediately catches herself. "Sorry, boss."
"Looks like we need to talk," I say and take her by the elbow. She flinches. I calmly drag her after me to the base cafeteria. During daytime the cafeteria is empty, all people are upstairs, the city is twenty percent destroyed, people are needed. First of all - to maintain order. Try scraping the veneer of civilization off a person and you'll need a policeman on every corner, otherwise everything will slide into chaos and anarchy. And chaos and anarchy in Brockton Bay is what I'd like to avoid. After all, I'm Administrator, not Queen of Chaos.
I seat Bakuda at the nearest table, start the coffee machine myself, take two cans of cola from the bar shelf (Brockton Cola - the best, refreshing, our own!) and plop down in the chair opposite. She looks at me questioningly and I push one of the cans toward her, trying to look like a cool bartender from cowboy movies who sends a glass of whiskey along the bar straight into the hand of another dashing shooter. Thanks to the Butcher's power, I never miss my target anymore, and the can pokes into Bakuda's open palm.
"So," I say, opening my can. "Do you know your position in the current situation?"
"Y-yes. I'm your subordinate," Bakuda nods. "I have a laboratory and you spared my life, implanted a bug in me and..."
"Aha. So you don't understand. Give me your palm," I take her hand, she tries to pull it away, but fat chance. The Butcher can hold a bunch like her with two fingers. So I turn her hand palm up. The skin on her palm splits and my little tracker worm crawls out. I take it with two fingers, heal the wound.
"There. From now on you have nothing inside you," I say. "So you don't need to be afraid. You're free. If you want to leave, go away - go, I won't hold you. Though I want to warn you - if you suddenly decide to stand in my way a second time - there will be no mercy. I believe in second chances, but not third ones."
"But..." she raises her palm and looks at it. "How can I know that you removed all your insects from me? Or that you didn't program me for suicide?"
"You can't," I shrug. "But I'm not going to prove anything to you either. That would look stupid. I give you my word that you no longer have my trackers inside you. But that's all. From here you choose yourself - stay in Administration or not. Stay - we continue working together. No - good riddance, no one's holding you and try to stay away from my sphere of interests. All clear?"
"...but..."
"All understood?" I press slightly with the Fifth's voice.
"Yes," Bakuda nods hastily.
"There we go. So you're our hired worker. For now. We pay you for work. If you want to become a full team member - apply. We'll probably have to find out others' opinions, but I think we can work it out. But why I called you here... look." I fidget in my chair and move closer to the table. The coffee machine makes a short beep, notifying that my cappuccino is ready. I ignore it.
"You're a tinker. Specialization - bombs with exotic effects. This means that just by thinking up a concept or looking once you can already create such a bomb. So far you're limited only by your imagination, but..."
"Boss!" she protests and I hide a smile. That's it. Master's pride. Professional dignity. She may still fear me, but won't tolerate belittling of her mastery.
"What? Think I'm wrong?" I goad her, showing with a smile that I accept objections and am ready to discuss.
"My bombs are the most unique in the whole world, and you can't deny it!" she blurts out. "Zero Time bombs! Black hole effect bombs! Disintegration! Annihilation! Glass conversion! Vibrobombs! Nanothread bombs! How can you talk about limited thinking?! I..."
"Okay. You're right, your bombs really are the most unique in the whole world," I nod. "No one will even argue here. Your disintegration bombs blew away nearly a quarter of Leviathan's torso at once. ZT bombs - Zero Time - tore huge chunks of flesh from him. And Little Boy and Fat Man are like low-yield atomic charges, just without radiation. But!" I raise a finger. "As Genrich Altshuller said, all problems are about going beyond your limitations. As long as you call your creations bombs - you're limited by the very symbolism of that word. What comes to mind at the word 'bomb'? A black round thing with a smoking fuse, like they draw in cartoons, right? Bomb means destruction, death and explosion. Right? That's where you've reached your limit... in my opinion. I'm no specialist, but I think you could go further."
"Further?"
"Never thought about a bomb that would heal people in its radius of effect? A Resurrection Bomb? A bomb that gives immunity to damage, for example? That grants temporary invulnerability? Gives strength and removes fatigue?"
"What?" Bakuda blinks.
"Your products aren't bombs at all. They're more like devices for instant realization of any effects at the point of impact and within the radius of influence. Look, I just listed effects that help your allies, not just harm enemies. But what if you create a shelter bomb, for example? You see the situation is critical, throw a bomb there and everyone who falls under the effect - ends up in a shelter. Or teleports to a safe place. Going further, what's stopping you from creating a bomb that will restore the city? Or if it comes to that - build a new one. Okay not a city, but at least a house? You throw a grenade, and at the point of its fall - bam and a house stands, ready, just needs to be connected to utilities. Small bomb - single story with garage, big one - immediately a multi-story with elevator and underground parking. Eh?"
"You've gone crazy, boss," Bakuda declares to me. "What are you saying..."
"That's for you to tell me. Which of us two makes bombs? So tell me if such a thing is possible or not. Because before meeting you I also thought that a Zero Time bomb or one with a black hole inside was impossible. But you know how to do the impossible. Don't you want to find out what the limits of your ability are? Could you create a bomb that will destroy an Endbringer, resurrect heroes, eliminate all damage... for example a Time Reversal Bomb, eh? Activate it in the city before the Endbringer attack, and after - press the button and everything returns to its place, as it was. Brockton Bay would be restored, and no one would die. No, rather - they would die, but be returned back. Resurrected. By you. By your bomb."
"And they call me a crazy bomber," Bakuda shakes her head, but I see how those familiar sparks lit up in her eyes. Sparks of interest. Curiosity. She's a tinker, a "tinsmith," master of her craft, like Leet, and therefore I understand her perfectly. Right now so many ideas are swarming in her head... and her fingertips itch with desire to test everything in practice.
"Want more crazy ideas? A bomb that summons Scion to the Endbringer attack site, for example. Or..."
"Whoa, whoa, enough, boss," Bakuda raises her hands. "Enough. I already understood that what you call 'limited mind' everyone else calls sanity and adequacy."
"I don't want to hear that from someone who creates ten impossible effects a day," I get up and go to the coffee machine. I take my coffee cup and put it on the table.
"There. Made you cappuccino. Enjoy. And remember, your limitations are only in your own head."
"A bomb that heals. A bomb that resurrects. Hmm... there's a trace of noble madness in this," she says, pulling the coffee cup toward herself. "Maybe we need to meet more often, boss. I don't promise anything, but I'll try. Making Zero Timing bombs has gotten quite boring."
"Well... can't help it, I need them. The more the better, yes. My requirements for form - is that possible?"
"Possible," she nods. "I already checked. But the caliber of such a cartridge will be even bigger than fifty. Recoil and rate of fire..."
"You don't need to worry about that," I wave my hand. "After all, I'm also a bit of a Tinker. Give me cartridges with Zero Time bullets, and I'll figure out the barrel for this caliber myself. Though of course, I'll have to give up the machine gun... pity."
"Given your strength, you need a pistol rather. Ability to always hit the target, plus strength and ability to control recoil, plus tactical skills and abilities... large-caliber pistol. Or revolver."
"There you go," I say. "And my machine gun is still at the PRT, in evidence storage under lock."
"They eat out of your hands," says Bakuda, pulling out a pen from somewhere and making notes on a thick napkin, sketching some blueprint. "Just say the word and I'm sure they'll come running and give everything back, even tie it with a red gift ribbon."
"No. That machine gun is like a symbol. If I walk around with it, that's it, Administrator's image is dead, the Butcher is back. No, my weapon shouldn't remind of the Butcher from any angle, and I'll use it differently. Let it be a pistol... with a magazine, for quick reloading. Possibility of automatic fire just in case. Two pistols - if battle with an Endbringer begins. In any case, the more Zero Time cartridges there are, the better. Drones with machine guns. That is - large insects capable of carrying a firing point. I'm afraid my insects won't be able to get close to Behemoth so easily, he's the embodiment of flame and radiation, burns out all life around," I say thoughtfully, watching her draw diagrams and markings on the napkin. I hand her the next one. She continues drawing, paying no attention to me and completely falling out of reality. I smirk. What else does a creator need? Freedom to create and new ideas... and that's all.
I get up from the table and head to the door. Already at the door I turn around. Bakuda is bent over the napkins, examining them, holding a pencil in her hand and muttering something under her breath to herself. Well... seems everything's fine with her. We have a place for such a valuable specialist, her bombs can change the world, like Panacea's abilities... I'm not going to lose her. I was close to an Endbringer once, and that once was enough for me to understand how deep the abyss is between all of us and our enemies. We don't have time for internal squabbles, for conflicts and figuring out who's right, who's wrong, and who's the boss here.
I go down to my laboratory, where especially large and strong insect-relays are maturing in cocoons. Rather - future creators of relays. So I don't have to create them, fuel them, care for them, I created relay-hives. Yes, honey bees will pollinate flowers, will live their lives, providing the hive with energy and protection, and I'll get powerful relays of my ability. Right now I can already control almost half the city simultaneously, and my head still hasn't burst, though I can barely hear the Butchers anymore, have to specially strain to hear their voices. And of course, Amy. She's still closed off from me, but I feel how she comes alive inside - when I'm near Vicky. Sisterly love, eh?
"Hey! Need to talk!" someone calls me in the corridor, and I frown. Trickster. He's not going to talk to me politely, I inherited a debt to him and his team from Coil. Heal Noelle. Is that even possible in principle? Though... I have Panacea, rather - her power.
"Trickster," I turn around, simultaneously planting my new, improved insects in his clothes, for which I haven't even thought up names yet. I'll have to consult with Tattletale. Trickster has teleportation ability, he's hard to hit, but that doesn't matter. If he decides to finally ruin relations with me - my insects will teleport with him. I just need to give the command. Maybe I should do just that? Put him to sleep and immediately reprogram his brain for unconditional obedience? No, can't do that, that way I'll definitely turn into Heartbreaker. A person must have free will after all. Especially since he can't do anything to me... or can he? Grab me, teleport somewhere over the ocean where I can't return quickly and throw me out... well, I'll swim back. And I'll be very wet and very angry.
"When will you start treating Noelle? You promised!" he says, standing right in front of me.
"Indeed," I sigh. "Got completely swamped. Alright, lead the way. Let's start right now."