Built To Last

[We Just Write]

"Emmy, I'm sorry. I looked as hard as I could, but I just can't find another job for you."

I nodded across the table to Danny Hebert.

"I understand, Mr. Hebert. Thank you."

I was turning to walk out of the office when it hit me just how fucked I was. I was two weeks out from eviction at any given time if I couldn't keep the money flowing. Let alone the protection money I needed to avoid getting "recruited" by the ABB. No more money meant I was going to be out on the streets, followed by getting dragged into who knows what.

I hadn't even reached the door by the time I'd started to cry. I'd been working my butt off, and trying as hard as I could and it just wasn't enough. Danny was doing all he could too, as was the entire Dockworkers' Association. Society just wasn't built to handle the stresses it had ended up placed under, and it was crumbling as a result. I... I honestly wish it had been built stronger.

[DESTINATION]

[AGREEMENT]

[TRAJECTORY]

[AGREE- IMPACT]

[QUERY]

[DAMAGE][DESTINATION][TRAJECTORY]

[RELUCTANCE][AGREEMENT]

Two gargantuan beings spiraled through the void. As they approached, they shed parts of themselves. One was impacted by an object on approach, shifting its trajectory ever so slightly. Towards me.

When I came to my senses, I was in a warehouse, in front of a machine. Looking around, I saw Danny slumped against a wall, bags under his eyes and his teenage daughter staring at me oddly.

"What... What happened?"

The girl - I think her name was Taylor? - spoke up.

"You spent the last two days straight building... that. It was like you were possessed; we had to put the water bottles and food directly into your hands or you wouldn't eat. Didn't sleep either. That's why dad needed to get my help; he just couldn't keep you safe on his own, and he needed to minimize how many people found out about the new Tinker."

I blinked.

"I'm a Tinker?"

Taylor nodded in sheer exhaustion.

"As far as we can tell, anyway. Any idea what that machine is for, by the way?"

Looking at it, I realized that I had a pretty good idea.

"I think it's a machine for making things. Random junk goes in, sophisticated components come out. Though I don't think I'd be able to move it without heavy machinery, considering it weighs multiple tons."

Danny sighed as he hauled himself to a state of relative wakefulness,

"Don't worry about it. This warehouse is basically the Dockworkers' Association's collective attic full of forgotten things. That's why I brought you here; I couldn't think of anywhere else you could get all the stuff you were demanding in that fugue state without attracting attention."

Thinking for a moment, I realized an issue.

"If I was in a Tinker fugue for two days, my landlord has probably evicted me already, figuring I was dead or had done a runner. He's that kind of ass; only reason I hadn't moved was not being able to afford it."

Danny nodded,

"There's no 'probably' about it. Your stuff went on the street yesterday. Kurt recovered a lot of the sentimental items, government papers, and your electronics, but scavengers were already picking over the pile when he got there."

I blinked,

"Oh."

Just my luck; get superpowers, become homeless. As always, the perversity of the universe tends towards the maximum.

"Where am I going to sleep, then?"

Taylor shrugged,

"The warehouse office has a bathroom, kitchenette, fridge, and an internet connection. Plus we set up a cot for you. It's not much, but it beats living out of a cardboard box."

She was right.

"Thank you. Both of you."

Danny sighed,

"You're welcome. Any thoughts on what you're going to do next?"

As I glanced at the stuff machine I'd built and ideas whirled through my mind, I noted, "I think I'm going to take a couple weeks to figure out what I can do, first. Jumping into stuff with no plan seems like an incredibly stupid decision."

The conversation gradually trailed off; now that I was (apparently) sane, Taylor and Danny needed to go home and get some sleep. I really needed some sleep too, come to think of it. I had some thoughts about analyzing the stuff-maker, but I was just too pudding-brained to do a good job at it right now. So I just wrote a reminder note about it for the morning, crawled into the cot, and went to sleep.

In the morning, I got myself cleaned up in the bathroom - which had a shower for some reason - noted that I needed to get my hands on a laundry machine somehow, brushed my teeth, and had a basic breakfast of instant oatmeal.

Huh, what's this not about-

"To Morning Emmy: try and figure out our Tinker rules today. From sleepy Emmy."

Ah, right. That seemed pretty logical.

So I wandered over to the stuff making machine to take a look at it. Popping off one of the access panels, I immediately noticed something rather important. Not only did every single system in there have backups for its backups, but everything was massively overbuilt, and sensitive components were thoroughly protected from all manner of abuse. It would never be the most efficient or compact of approaches, but the damn thing would probably still work after being used as a chew toy by Lung in full rage mode.

Heck, thinking it over, I don't think this machine would ever break down without getting the absolute shit kicked out of it first.

That... That was huge. From what I recalled, one of the biggest problems Tinkers had to deal with was the sheer amount of maintenance needed to keep all their equipment in working order. And at least for certain devices in certain circumstances, I could just ignore that issue.

Right, so let's think about where this might lead. If my specialty was something to do with making really durable technology, then it should be a lot easier to lean into it than to work against it. Given that I still needed a laundry machine, I had a pretty good first project to test that hypothesis.

Nodding to myself, I booted up the stuff-making machine and got to work.

I knew a fair bit about how washing machines worked on account of my engineering-nerd teenage years, heck, I'd even repaired a few of them. So it was pretty straightforward to start working on the design for a laundry machine. Every single time I tried to make it lighter or more efficient, I felt like I was trudging uphill without any help from my power whatsoever. On the other hand, all my efforts to make the laundry machine more reliable worked just fine.

I had a workable washer-drier design that should last for about a century within an hour, and I got to building it. Even if this project had mostly been meant to learn more about my power, the fact was that I did need some way to clean my clothes. That the laundry machine was rugged enough to work in an active volcano in antarctica was irrelevant.

Come to think of it, that could be a pretty good basis for a cape name. Ruggedizer.

 

[We Just Write]

The next week passed in a blur of planning and Tinkering. I figured out pretty quickly that selling my Tinkertech would be one of the better options in terms of sustaining myself, so I looked into the laws about that.

Putting it bluntly, they were shit. Not being able to patent non-replicable Tinkertech was something I could understand, sure. Sounded pretty reasonable, to be honest. But there was an utter maze of other rules and fines associated with NEPEA-5 that made things very tricky to keep track of. Broadly, it seemed there were only four-ish avenues to operate a business as a Parahuman without getting smacked upside the head with fines.

Option one: have a business entirely unrelated to your powers. Not really an option for me.

Option two: Be a sole proprietor or independent contractor. So long as you stayed below a certain income threshold anyway.

Option three: Work for a business owned by non-parahumans, thought you could kinda-sorta loophole this sometimes.

Option four: Be useful enough to the government that they would ignore the other rules. Not an officially approved route and pretty darn risky, but there were a few known cases.

Of course, there was a fifth option: have enough firepower to simply ignore the fines while being too much of a problem if provoked to merit enforcement. It would get me declared a villain eventually, no doubt about it. But as groups like Toybox and the Elite showed, that wasn't necessarily a dealbreaker. Heck, sometimes the PRT even purchased stuff from members of the Elite. That's how the Rig got its fancy force field after all.

After some thought, I concluded that the best option was to set up a legal fiction of being an independent contractor working for my civilian identity. It wouldn't hold up forever, maybe not even for very long. But it would buy time to build up to the point where I could simply ignore all the fines that came my way.

That clarified some things for me. I needed a starting product, something I could sell. I needed security to keep from getting kidnapped and forced to work for one of the gangs - given my unfortunate ethnicity, I was at risk from the Merchants, ABB, and the Empire 88 -. Lastly, I needed supporting equipment for manufacturing at scale, shipping, that sort of thing. I also needed some help with regards to marketing.

I started with security first. unfortunately, my power just wasn't suitable for making powered armor; the best I could do was something akin to a tankette. But the main issue there was just how much volume was needed to protect my squishy human body without using stuff like crumple zones, which my power absolutely refused to countenance. If I removed myself from the unit, most of those issues went away.

And that's why I made a set of security robots, linked to a CCTV system. They were about human sized, got around on tank treads, featured four dextrous arms and hands each, and each of them had a set of electrolasers to incapacitate intruders. For brutes, well, laser-guided lightning guns could take a fairly all-encompassing definition of "incapacitate". Each of them was also exceedingly durable; anything short of an anti-tank weapon wouldn't even scratch them. Not to mention that they would only need a tune-up every thirty years or so, not accounting for combat damage.

The trio of robots were also smart enough that I decided to err on the side of caution when it came to treating them like people. So I named them Jerry, Berry, and Mary, for lack of better ideas.

As for my initial product, I opted for emergency supplies. Extremely durable radios, flashlights, water purifiers, camp stoves, and solar chargers for the above. Nothing too out there, but things that lots of people would get good use out of. I'd just about finished the stuff-making machines for the solar chargers and radios when Berry broke my concentration.

"Emmy, the Heberts have arrived."

I blinked. The expression on Berry's facial screen was neutral.

"Show them in."

A few minutes later, we were talking in the office. Jerry had joined our impromptu meeting, though the other two security robots were busy maintaining the perimeter.

Danny was the first to speak, asking "So, what have you decided?"

I shrugged "I'm going to try making money off my Tinkertech, though with the laws being what they are that means I'm very technically going villain."

Taylor nodded towards Jerry "You certainly have the intimidating evil minions to pull that off."

I groaned, "Yes the security robots are intimidating, and they are technically my minions, but they're not evil. They don't go around hurting people for no good reason."

Something about that seemed to hit a nerve, as Taylor almost shrank into herself. Meanwhile, Jerry himself apparently felt no need to comment.

Danny sighed,

"I hope it works out for you. God knows, we could use some more good jobs around here."

I nodded,

"I'll see what I can do. I'm going to need some help with shipping and receiving along with marketing, if nothing else."

There were a few moments of silence, then Danny asked,

"Curiously, can I see the stuff you're planning on selling?"

I shrugged,

"Sure? I've got prototypes of the first wave of equipment all ready."

A minute later, Danny was holding my prototype flashlight.

"Good light, nice grip. A bit heavy, though. What exactly separates this from all the other flashlights on the market?"

I held out my hand, "Pass it to me, and I'll demonstrate."

Danny did so. I proceeded to put the flashlight in a clamp, lens up. I then retrieved the pickaxe I'd found lying around the warehouse, and passed it to Danny.

"Hit the flashlight with that pickaxe. Hard as you can."

Danny hesitantly nodded, wound up, and slammed the pickaxe's point into the flashlight's lens at high speed. The light didn't even flicker, and the lens wasn't even scratched. As for Danny, he had managed to swing the pickaxe hard enough to outright break its sturdy wooden handle. He was also cussing up a storm, having apparently pulled a muscle in the process.

Taylor asked "What is that lens even made of?"

I answered "Synthetic corundum, with a few extra things added. It'll stand up to anything short of a gunshot. The case meanwhile is just really good nickel-plated steel with some clever tempering. Quadruple redundant batteries and circuits coupled with extremely good temperature tolerance mean it should stand up to just about anything reasonable."

Danny regained his composure, before asking "Are all the things you make that durable?"

I nodded, "Yeah, kind of my thing, it seems."

"Then what's the going price for one of those flashlights? I bet a lot of people will appreciate having something they can know works with absolute certainty."

"Haven't decided yet. How does two hundred dollars sound?"

Danny thought for a moment, before answering.

"It sounds like you've got yourself a deal. And you should probably charge more for them, being completely honest.

 

[We Just Write]

Two days after I sold that prototype flashlight to Danny, I was ready to make my initial sales pitch to the PRT for the radios and flashlights. About a quarter of that time was spent getting the flashlight making machine up and running, the rest was spent on making another robot. This time, I'd made a body double.

To my overjoyed shock, my power was exceedingly cooperative on the design here. After some thinking, I was able to figure out why: redundancy was a major part of how my power ensured my tech's reliability, and at present I was a single point of failure. With all the features my power was cramming in here, I wasn't just making a decoy. I was basically making an entire second me.

While my power was telling me it would take some brain surgery to fully synch myself up to the robo-mes, a brainwave monitoring headset was an acceptable interim solution. And also I was more than a bit nervous about opening up my skull for any reason whatsoever.

My double was also significantly stronger and more durable than a baseline human. Which let me equip her with "power armor" without the issues that trying to protect my squishy self presented. That "power armor" also let me disguise the fact that she weighed about three times as much as she should, and would set off metal detectors.

Once Me2 was ready, I slept with the brainwave headset on to get her mind up to spec.

I woke up to her gently brushing my hair.

"Morning, Emmy. Big day today, you ready?"

I got up, yawning.

"Yeah. You ready to make the call?"

The second me nodded, as I took off the brainwave headset and stashed it in a cabinet. Meanwhile, Me2 picked up the telephone and dialed the PRT's non-emergency line.

"Hello. I'm a Tinker looking to sell equipment to the PRT."

While Me2 (she really needed a better name) talked, I went through my morning hygiene routine and ate breakfast. Forty minutes later, Me2 hung up the phone and walked over.

"So, I've got... mixed news. We'll be meeting with the PRT in about two hours; that said, they really weren't happy about meeting here instead of PRT HQ, despite our very good reasons for not wanting to go there. They also absolutely refused to let us bring a security robot. So we're going to have Armsmaster here, with two whole vans of PRT troopers to make sure we don't try anything."

I sighed. "That makes sense. In the meantime... how do you feel about Melissa as a name?"

My robot doppelganger shrugged,

"I can live with it. Though you should probably get in the habit of calling me Ruggedizer when there's people over and I've got the suit on."

I thought for a few seconds,

"Yeesh, cape names are a weird concept. They're basically branding."

The two hours passed, and I found myself incredibly jealous of Melissa, mostly on account of constipation. Not needing to go to the bathroom would have been great. Also not needing sleep, though blanket cocoon was nice. Though on the other hand, she was missing out on food on account of not having a digestive system.

I'd barely gotten out of the bathroom in time to see Melissa opening the door for Armsmaster; we'd already explained that the Dockworkers' Association had given us permission to use the building until we could get a permanent location, so we weren't worried about getting arrested for squatting.

As for Melissa Ruggedizer, she greeted Armsmaster with, "Nice to meet you, I'm Ruggedizer."

Armsmaster replied,

"And I'm Armsmaster, Protectorate ENE. I've been told that you want to sell us some equipment?"

"Yes. I specialize in extremely durable and reliable technology. At the moment I've got production of flashlights and radios up and running, though I intend to branch out to more products in future. Would you prefer to see a product demonstration inside, or out here?"

Armsmaster's response was a terse, "Outside, thank you very much."

He very clearly didn't trust us, which I suppose made sense. Still, this was an opportunity.

Ruggedizer turned to me and asked, "Hey boss, would you get one of the flashlights and two of the radios? For demonstration purposes."

I called back, "Sure thing R!" and went to get the items in question, though that did mean I missed out on a bit of the conversation. When I got back, I heard Armsmaster talking.

"So she's only your employer for legal purposes?"

"Yes."

"You're walking a tightrope there. Be careful."

That's when I entered the conversation, handing the bundle of kit to Ruggedizer, who then handed it to Armsmaster.

"I got the stuff!"

Armsmaster turned the devices over, looked at how they were assembled, clicked the flashlight on and off, and such. After a moment, he remarked, "I do not see why this is impressive."

I shrugged. "Then set it down and have one of the PRT guys shoot it. It'll still work."

Armsmaster looked somewhat askance, but did as requested. A moment later, a rifle bullet was fired into the flashlight and each of the radios.

One of the PRT sergeants (his name said Brown) picked up the flashlight and clicked it on.

"Huh. That was a full power rifle round, and the thing's barely dented. I'm shaking it around, and the light's not even flickering."

Ruggedizer shrugged,

"Well yeah, it's got quadruple-redundant circuits and a bunch of other stuff to make sure it's going to work no matter what."

Armsmaster looked askance,

"Why would you put that level of redundancy in a flashlight!?"

"Why wouldn't you? Then it might break when you really need it!"

"But it's so inefficient!"

That's when Sergeant Brown stepped between the other me and Armsmaster.

"You're both smart, now can we please drop the personal issues and focus on the business transaction at hand? Ruggedizer, you want to sell us flashlights and radios, with their extreme durability and reliability being the main selling point, yes?"

The other me nodded, "That's correct. I'm thinking four hundred dollars a flashlight and six hundred per radio; I've looked up prices in the industry, and those seem about right for the quality I'm selling. I might also start making ballistic plates for your armor."

Sergeant Brown nodded,

"Then I can take these demonstration units for Tinkertech evaluations, correct?"

"Sure, consider them free samples."

That's when Armsmaster spoke up again,

"You really should consider joining the Protectorate; independent Tinkers have a tendency to get snapped up or killed in fairly short order."

Ruggedizer smirked, her eyeroll hidden behind her tinted visor.

"I'm not stupid. That's why I made the trio of security robots you absolutely refused to allow anywhere near PRT HQ. Rest assured that I've got plenty of plans to make sure I don't get press-ganged or killed."

There was an awkward pause, as if Armsmaster was mentally evaluating whether or not to continue the obligatory recruitment push.

Eventually, he answered, "Very well. We'll get back to you once we've made a decision about whether or not to purchase your products."

With that, the PRT left, bringing Armsmaster with them.

 

[We Just Write]

A/N: Gonna be a brief hiatus for Thanksgiving Break after this one.

---

Emily Piggot looked up from some routine paperwork as Andre Smith - her division's head of Tinkertech evaluation - entered her office.

"Ma'am, I've got the testing reports on the samples of Ruggedizer's tech that were given to us for testing purposes."

Director Piggot thought for a moment before asking,

"She's the independent Tinker who wanted to sell us flashlights and radios, I believe? How did that go?"

Andre set the report on the director's desk as he answered.

"The full version is in the reports there, but in short, they're good flashlights and radios, and they still work."

Piggot blinked,

"I feel like I'm missing something here. Why is them still working impressive, exactly?"

"Because they still work after being blown up multiple times, shot with the biggest gun we had in inventory, attacked with all manner of power tools, thrown off the PRT building's roof, getting set on fire, getting dunked in liquid nitrogen and various horrible corrosive agents, irradiated with an X-Ray machine, being squished in a hydraulic press, having their casings stuffed full of mud, getting subjected to obscene amounts of thermal wear, being blasted with an EMP, and lastly they were given to the Wards with explicit orders to 'try and break the damn things', quoting Armsmaster."

"Wait, what does Armsmaster have to do with this? And why did he give the testing units to the Wards?"

Andre blinked.

"Right; apparently their opposed Tinker specialties means that Ruggedizer and Armsmaster can't help but irritate each other. Given that, recruiting Ruggedizer into the PRT ENE seems like a bad idea."

"...You said the radios and flashlight still work after being put through all that abuse?"

"Yes. They look like shit and the finish is ruined, but they still turn on and more-or-less function. Last I knew, Vista had tuned one of the radios to a music station for her own amusement. Ruggedizer's tech isn't fully indestructible, but it's damn close."

As Director Piggot began reading through the paper version on the report, she couldn't help but be impressed. Both at just how durable Ruggedizer's technology was, and at how thorough the testing team had been in trying to break it. By the looks of things, someone using a device made by Ruggedizer could totally rely on it to function as advertised, even in truly absurd circumstances.

Still, flashlights and radios weren't all that game-changing, no matter how reliable. On the other hand, Ruggedizer must know that. These first products reeked of someone trying to figure out something they could sell without scaring anyone away. Which was honestly quite sensible.

After mulling it over for a bit, Director Piggot opted to authorize the purchase of two hundred flashlights and fifty radios. And also to query Ruggedizer about some ballistic plates for testing purposes. That would be enough to keep Ruggedizer in the black and started on her way towards somewhat legitimate business, while also being a small enough expenditure to work into her department's permanently over-stretched budget.

Director Piggot wasn't happy about having a Tinker who simply couldn't get along with Armsmaster in Brockton Bay, but she was being pragmatic about the situation. A Ruggedizer rolling in money from selling technology was a Ruggedizer who wasn't raiding banks with nigh-indestructible robots or something equally troublesome. And if the PRT could benefit from keeping the new Tinker happy by getting to use her technology, all the better.

---

The next couple days were a massive pile of anxiety as we waited to hear back from the PRT. We passed the time by Tinkering together, along with... "intense snuggling". The... amazonian features I'd given Melissa awoke something I hadn't noticed before. And that's how I learned I was bisexual at the age of 36.

Anyway, we'd gotten automatic production of the camp stoves and water purifiers up and running by the time we heard back. We'd also had a visit from Danny, who among other things mentioned that the flashlight had proven quite useful when resetting a circuit breaker in the basement.

I fielded the phone call from the PRT this time, since Melissa was taking a shower. Even without sweat, her hair could still get dirty.

"Hello, Emmy speaking."

"Yes, this is Anthony Brown with the PRT. We've decided to purchase two hundred flashlights and fifty radios. How quickly can you get those to us?"

"We've got forty flashlights and twenty radios on-hand at the moment. You can come pick those up and pay for them any time. Still trying to find materials suppliers for the rest, since there's only so much old stuff the Dockworkers' Association is willing to let us recycle."

"We might be able to help with the materials side of things; there's quite a few trusted companies that the Protectorate sources Tinker supplies from, and we can help get you in touch with them."

"That would be really helpful, thank you."

The conversation carried on for a bit, until eventually trailing off. We'd be needing to open a business bank account to get paid, but as soon as we did the PRT would come right over to pick up the first delivery.

Once Melissa got done with her shower and came over, I told her how the conversation went.

"Huh, that's a pretty good sign. Also goes to show just how much we need to do in the getting things set up department."

I nodded,

"Yeah, we really need to hire a secretary and a marketing person at some point. Also an accountant. Maybe Danny knows a few trustworthy people with applicable skills who are looking for work?"

 

[We Just Write]

Getting an official bank account for our business finances was utterly uneventful, as was the PRT coming by to pick up the flashlights and radios. Soon after, Melissa and I were staring at the report that we had twenty eight thousand dollars in our account now. This sparked a quick discussion about moving to a permanent location sooner rather than later. So the next day I found myself gallivanting all over Brockton Bay (Berry in tow), while Melissa looked into getting a loan for starting up a proper factory.

Just in case, we'd made two more security robots to hold down the fort while we were out; wouldn't do for our temporary lab to get raided in the meantime.

Turns out, it was actually Danny who pointed me in the right direction. Apparently when a lot of the businesses in the Bay went under in the wake of the Dock Riots, their buildings had ended up de jure property of the Dockworkers' Association. Not that the Dockworkers' Association could actually use most of them.

So the next day after starting the search, I found myself looking at an abandoned factory. Apparently they used to make equipment for use on ships.

Danny noted, "I know this place isn't much, but... well, it isn't much."

Opening the door, I got a look at row upon row of derelict machinery.

"You kidding? All the stuff in there is a practical goldmine for recycling in the near term. Heck, I might even be able to repurpose some of it for my own use."

Danny chuckled, "Thought you'd like it. All the stuff left here doesn't appear on property valuations for various reasons, but for someone like you? It's a major selling point. Plus the adjacent buildings are just as full of abandoned tooling for you to salvage as your operations expand."

"...Thank you. You're being very generous and I'm not sure how to pay you back."

"By succeeding, and pumping some life back into Brockton Bay's economy. For so, so long there's been precious little available for legitimate income in this city. People find themselves henching for villains just to make ends meet, and you've got the possibility to change that."

I nodded as I thought.

"So how much to buy the abandoned factory?"

"Strictly speaking, I'd sell it for a dollar. That said, if you've got a few thousand dollars to spare, it would really help some people who are in a tight spot right now. Also it would pay to have the utilities reconnected, which is kind of important."

I thought for a moment.

"I can spare eight grand, no problem."

Two days later, we were ready to move. The factory's utilities had been reconnected, a heavy-duty truck had been hired to move the heavy machinery we'd built, and some basic habitation features - namely a bedroom, a shower, and a laundry area - had been added to the factory's office.

We'd just gotten the truck underway when the universe decided we'd been having things too easy. More specifically, the part of the universe who called herself Squealer.

We didn't even see her coming, our first warning being a screech of tires on asphalt. Gerry shouted "INCOMING!", and then the suddenly-visible monster truck rammed into the trailer with all our machinery in it.

As the glowering Tinker backed up, Melissa - currently suited up in her armor - asked "What the fuck is your problem!?"

Squealer hollered over the vehicle's sound system "You're a Tinker in the Docks! That's Merchants turf, so you've got to pay up! Now hand over those machines!"

Yeah, no way in hell was that going to happen, giant mechanical arm extending from Squealer's rig aside. Melissa seemed to agree with my assessment, leaping onto the side of Squealer's truck and hanging on for dear life.

Squealer panicked and slammed her truck into reverse, even as the first three security robots opened up with their lightning guns on full blast. Melissa hung on through an abrupt two-point turn (which flattened some poor schmuck's car in the process), and punched through the passenger side window even as the maniac tore off at highway speed with Gerry, Berry, and Mary in hot pursuit.

I could only groan; Squealer had completely trashed the truck's trailer. All the machinery we had loaded was fine; it was built to take this sort of abuse, but we'd need to get a new truck out here, load the machinery on, it was going to be a huge mess.

---

As my armored fist smashed through the passenger window, Squealer shrieked and drew a pistol. Normally I wouldn't be worried - even my visor was more than rated for handguns - but Squealer was a Tinker, so who knew what that gun did. So I began clambering through the window in hopes of getting to her before she could line up a shot.

Then the passenger seat launched itself up, clocking me right in the jaw. I barely even flinched; benefits of being built to take an obscene beating. As the wayward ejector seat went tumbling through the truck's roof, Squealer stared slack-jawed.

"How is your fucking neck not broken!?"

I was thoroughly inside the truck's cabin by this point and still slightly worried about the pistol, so even as I lined up my electrolaser, I answered.

"I'm built to last!"

Then I opened up on Squealer with the taser beam, making her spasm uncontrollably in her seat. The truck swerved abruptly, and I had the barest moment to realize that may not have been the best of ideas before we slammed into a building at full speed.

The entire front of the vehicle crumpled, airbags going off even as Squealer's harness kept her from flying out of the vehicle. I had no such luck, getting launched right through the windshield and ricocheting off the brick walls of the building we'd hit. No internal damage, but my armor's finish might have gotten scuffed a little.

I got to my feet just as Armsmaster arrived, his motorcycle pulling to a stop. Ugh, right, let's try and keep this professional.

"Ruggedizer, what are you doing here?"

I opted to go for the dry, clinical truth.

"Squealer tried to steal some of my machinery while I was moving to a more permanent location. For lack of better ideas, I boarded her truck to keep her from doing that. We had a fight in the truck's cab, which resulted in the truck crashing into that building at highway speed. I don't know if Squealer is still conscious, or even alive."

"Right, I'm going to arrest Squealer now. But I do have some questions for you. Such as how you avoided a concussion from getting slammed into the building."

As Armsmaster jogged over to foam Squealer, I couldn't help but groan internally. I had no good way to answer that question. If I admitted to being a robot it would wreck our end-run around the rogue laws. If I said I'd made some sort of anti-concussion tech there would be no good way to reproduce it when asked. I suppose I could refuse to answer? Strictly speaking, I did have a right to remain silent under the fifth amendment.

 

[Visual Pun]

Omake:

While I thought up an excuse why my robot double wasn't, actually, you know ME, and also not a smudge on the wall due to what just happened.

Armsmaster had a cocky smirk clearly visible with his lower helmet undeployed for PR purposes, "Unfortunately, you'll have to come up with another cape name. Ruggedizer is already taken by a PRT hero."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes. He's out of Utah. Not a Tinker, but goes everywhere on a flying carpet. RUG-gedizer."

"Oh..."

"Before you ask, no you can't fight him for it."

She hated that actually was her next question.

"Although we do have a suggested name. Just approved by the PR Department." Armsmaster handed her a folded up piece of paper.

She unfolded it and read it aloud, "DORD?!?"

"Yes, it stands for Department of Redundancy Department. Personally, I think it's rather fitting..."

The lack of weapons on her body double had never been so apparent until now.

__________

Danny said, "It's OK, we can brainstorm something."

"The guy does flying-freaking-carpets and the best he could come up with was RUG-gedizer? I oughta turn villain and fight him just on general principles."

"Now don't be too hasty..." Danny advised her, "Let's go back to basics... What was the first thing you built? Aside from the Tinker fugue."

"A Washer-Dryer that will keep working probably into the next millenium."

Danny grinned, "Well... there's your answer, right there!"

"What? You're saying that like it's obvious. I made an appliance that'll never break down. How is THAT an inspiration for a name?"

"You call yourself..."

Spoiler

...Maytag.

 

[We Just Write]

Ultimately, Melissa had simply refused to answer Armsmaster's question, and since he had no grounds whatsoever to hold her, my robot double went free. In the short term it was the right decision, but I had a sinking feeling that our increasingly antagonistic relationship with the Protectorate Tinker was going to come back to bite us eventually. As for Squealer, she lived, but with significant injuries. She was currently sedated in the PRT's infirmary.

No other villains saw fit to interfere with our move, so we managed to finish hauling our machinery to the new place the same day we started. Though the crash did make things take a couple hours longer.

---

The next day, I checked our business email. Offers from a few suppliers that the PRT recommended, a request for some ballistic plates for testing, and... huh, apparently the news wanted to interview us.

"Hey Melissa, want to take a look at this?"

Melissa looked up from her oatmeal - having been upgraded to run off food since she was first built- and remarked, "sure?"

Looking through the email, Melissa noted,

"You know, that could actually be a great opportunity to get our name out there. While they really want to ask about our altercation with Squealer, it wouldn't be too hard to throw in a few sales pitches."

I nodded,

"I for one really want to go."

Melissa thought for a moment.

"I understand, but realistically it should be me. Not only can I move around in the suit without getting tired, but if some asshole decides to take a swing at the interview I'm a lot more likely to survive."

I nodded sadly,

"Honestly, I'm getting really jealous of your super-durable robot body. You get to do all sorts of risky things without needing to worry about serious injury, and you've got backups to boot. Meanwhile I'm a squishy human with only one shot at life. You even got your own copy of our Tinker power, so what's the point of having me around?"

Melissa blushed. I didn't add that feature, so she must have put it in herself.

"I love you. You're cute and you care about me and... I don't want you to get hurt or feel bad."

I sat, stunned. "Oh. I... I love you too."

There was some silence, then Melissa spoke up.

"Emmy... I think it might be possible to move you over to a robot body, like what I'm using."

I thought on it for a moment.

"I can see how that could work, yeah. Definitely risky though, and I'd want lots of practice on animals first."

"In the meantime, we should probably finish up the rest of the PRT's flashlight and radio order. It'll do a lot to help with getting stuff set up."

---

Later that day, I was waiting at the factory with four of the security robots. The PRT was scheduled to pick up the rest of the order along with the test ballistic plates in a few minutes, while Melissa was getting ready for her interview in a bit.

Sure enough, there was a ring of the doorbell at the loading dock. I went over and there was a van with a few men in PRT uniforms that I didn't quite recognize.

Something about this didn't quite seem right, so I didn't open the door. But I did activate the intercom.

"Hello, I take it you're here to pick up the flashlights and radios for the PRT?"

The group's apparent leader replied "Yes, that's correct."

I thought for a moment, racking my brain for a way to tell if these people were legitimate. The PRT hadn't given me any sort of passphrase or anything, so I'd have to verify manually.

"Can I have your names please? I just need to make sure you're the right people or we don't get paid."

The four men outside went still as statues, and I could swear I heard one of them mutter "damnit" under their breath.

Before the incredibly suspicious bunch could do anything even more damning, two actually labeled PRT vans rounded the corner. They immediately lurched to a halt, and the one in front disgorged six PRT troopers in full tactical gear. What followed was an incredibly lopsided firefight in which the four goons were almost immediately foamed and arrested.

Once the impostors were dealt with, I quickly verified that the new bunch were actually sent by the PRT over the telephone. That done, I arranged for the agreed-upon inventory to be loaded onto the second van, confirmed that the payment was currently being processed by the bank, and sent them on their way.

...Hey, if I tuned into the news right now, I'd probably see Melissa's interview. Would be nice to see how that went, and it would take my mind off the events that just transpired.

I promptly made my way to our impromptu living room, and turned on the television.

"-and do you have any thoughts on Squealer's injuries?"

Melissa shrugged,

"Not really? I hadn't meant for her to end up with all that spinal damage, but as far as I'm concerned she brought it on herself. I used the minimum necessary force to protect my livelihood, and if that happens to have caused severe injuries to a public menace, I really can't be bothered to care."

"I hear you're affiliated with the PRT. Would you like to expand on that?"

"They're one of our customers, and that's it. We have every intention of selling highly durable technology to the general public, in addition to government agencies. At present out product line includes flashlights, radios, water purifiers, camp stoves, and solar chargers compatible with the above. We're also willing to consider custom work if requested."

"Tinker tech isn't generally well-regarded in the commercial sphere, given its tendency to break without constant maintenance. What makes you an exception?"

"I am a Tinker specialized in ruggedization, redundancy, and most importantly reliability. All my products have a no-questions-asked lifetime warranty, provided that all major components are present when we get it back. Short of removing major components, I'd be genuinely impressed if someone managed to intentionally break one of my products, let alone by accident."

"That's... quite the vote of confidence."

The interview kept going for a few minutes, before the broadcast switched to a story about Boston's airport having trouble with all the Thanksgiving travelers. Apparently, it was only two days away. Huh. Needed to think about how we were going to celebrate that; we certainly had plenty to be thankful for.

 

[We Just Write]

"Ruggedizer was entirely correct to be suspicious of those four men who showed up."

Director Piggot nodded,

"Well yes, that was obvious from the moment I heard of the impostors. Tell me something I don't know."

Deputy Renick flipped the page,

"Apparently, the four of them are a bunch of low-ranking Empire flunkies who thought conscripting a Tinker into the Empire would get them a promotion, or at least a significant bonus. This kidnapping attempt of theirs wasn't sponsored by the higher-ups, as far as the interrogators can tell."
Emily snorted in disdain.

"I highly doubt Kaiser would have signed off on it, considering how brazenly stupid the attempt was. Did they come up with this plan while drunk by any chance?"

Renick replied, "Yes, actually. All four of them were subjected to a breathalyzer test shortly after their arrest. The lowest blood alcohol content among them was 0.09. Apparently they were at a bar when they concocted the scheme, swung by a costume store and a van rental business, and then proceeded directly to Ruggedizer's factory."

Director Piggot groaned, the stupidity of regular humans could cause far more problems than Capes, sometimes.

"At the very least they shouldn't be worth the Empire's time to bust out of jail, considering how much of a liability they've proven themselves to be."

"That seems quite likely, yes."

"Any good news?"

Director Renick turned the page of the report, and passed it to Emily. Emily began to read. Ah, apparently it was the testing report for the ballistic plates Ruggedizer sent in.

Visual inspection indicated a rigid plate covered in apparently self-healing semirigid foam. Impact testing with a pneumatic ram indicated that the foam backing drastically lowered blunt force trauma sustained by the wearer. Gunshots up to and including a 40mm cannon failed to penetrate, though at the upper end of the range the wearer would definitely be feeling it. Meanwhile the foam on the front acted to catch fragments from bullet impacts, and keep them from flying off to cause injuries elsewhere.

Meanwhile incendiaries seemed to have negligible effect, with the inside of the armor remaining at almost exactly room temperature even with a kilogram of burning thermite on the outside. Same went in reverse for a dunking in liquid nitrogen. And yet those troops who'd worn a set of the plates remarked that they didn't overheat anywhere near as much as when they wore their regular armor. Apparently, the greater the temperature gradient, the more the foam resisted heat transfer; it also locked down on heat transfer if either side of the plate significantly exceeded human body temperature. Blatant Tinker bullshit, but Emily would take it.

As for what it took to actually break one of these plates... well, if anyone was casually throwing around equivalent attacks to multi-kilogram shaped charges, the troopers had bigger problems.

This... This armor would save so many lives. And the price Ruggedizer was asking was quite reasonable. Shame PRT ENE's discretionary spending for the next month was just about tapped out.

...Well, when in doubt, kick matters up the chain of command.

A decision made, Emily Piggot began composing a message to head office. A message that basically amounted to a sales pitch by proxy for Ruggedizer's armor plates. After all, if everyone got the new armor, her troops would benefit too. Not to mention that they could hardly justify denying her funding to get armor from a Tinker who lived right here in Brockton Bay.

Still, even as Director Piggot pressed send, some deeply cynical part of her chided her for believing Costa-Brown would be reasonable. Piggot hoped that part of herself was incorrect, but just in case she started coming up with contingency plans.

 

[We Just Write]

Much to our surprise, Danny invited Melissa and I over for Thanksgiving. After a moment to think on it, we asked if it would be alright if we showed up early to help with the cooking; the idea of entirely imposing on the Heberts just didn't feel right, given how much they'd already done for us. Danny said yes, and we agreed to show up at nine in the morning.

We showed up exactly on schedule, though not without incident. Apparently their front porch had a bad step, and Melissa's high density resulted in her putting her foot right through it. Danny and Taylor apparently heard the crunching noise from inside, since we heard rapid pounding footsteps, followed by the door being flung open.

Danny dropped the shotgun as he chuckled with relief.

"Oh, it's only you two. Sorry, but when I heard the crunching noise I assumed the worst."

Melissa sighed as she hauled herself up.

"Sorry about busting your porch. If you want we can fix it?"

Taylor shrugged.

"Sure?"

Meanwhile, Danny shook his head.

"We've been meaning to fix that step for ages and just not gotten around to it. It would be wrong to impose on you for something like that. You could have been seriously hurt."

Melissa countered,

"But you've helped us so much already. It feels wrong not to pay that back somehow."

That's when Taylor remarked,

"If you two keep trying to out-polite each other, this will keep going forever. Please come in."

So, we came in. We helped with cooking for a good three hours, everyone enjoyed a good meal, and then we sprung our little surprise.

I started.

"Danny, Taylor. We made gifts for you."

Danny answered, "Huh?"

Meanwhile, Taylor's reply was a suspicious "Why?"

"When I got my powers and went into that fugue... you two put everything on the line for me. Not to mention that you've been really really helpful with getting me started. It feels wrong not to pay that back somehow, so we made a watch for each of you."

With that, Melissa fished out the cheap-looking wristwatches we'd made for them. One was red and the other was black; the idea was for them to go beneath notice.

As Taylor looked over the red watch, she asked, "...Why a watch specifically?"

Melissa answered, "Because each of them contains a concealed panic button, and hiding it in a watch lets you bring it everywhere without arousing suspicion. We're worried about something horrible happening to you, maybe because of association with us. Those watches will let you notify us of your exact position and need for rescue if stuff starts going badly, so we can bail you out."

The Heberts both nodded seriously, then Danny asked

"So how do we activate the panic button?"

I spoke up,

"Hand me the black watch, and I'll show you."

---

The Tuesday after Thanksgiving was a big day for us; we'd be interviewing our first hires today. Danny had come through for us big time, finding a secretary, a couple marketing guys, an accountant, and a few dockworkers to handle shipping and receiving. With the thirty assorted orders we'd gotten at our makeshift website over Thanksgiving break, we were optimistic about our business prospects.

To save time, we'd opted to interview everyone all at once. So we'd shuffled some chairs around to convert the factory's old meeting room into a makeshift auditorium.

To our relief, everyone got here on time. Melissa would be presenting in our Ruggedizer identity, while I would ostensibly be non-Parahuman.

As everyone sat down, I greeted them.

"Hello, welcome to our name-pending business. I'm Emmy, the company's legal cover meaning we don't get sued for being run by a Parahuman. This is Ruggedizer, the Tinker who's actually designing all the products we're selling."

A skinny black man in a blue business suit nodded, then asked

"Guessing you need our help handling the more company-related parts of running a business? I'm Ferdinand, by the way."

Melissa nodded,

"Yeah, we need a secretary to screen calls and make official correspondence. Someone to keep track of the money, some people to market my products, and a few people to handle the loading docks. Won't be much manual labor in that last one, but we need some people who can actually think to keep track of the robots."

One of the Dockworkers - Kurt, I think his name was - asked "So, you're not going to automate our jobs away?"

I chimed in,

"Aside from needing the help, a big part of the reason for hiring locals is to breathe some life back into the local economy. We're not going to be hoarding endless wealth for its own sake, which means we're not acting purely to profit. So no, we won't automate your jobs away. We might introduce some automation to make your jobs easier, but not to do away with you entirely."

After a moment, a thought popped to mind,

"Also, we fully expect and encourage you to unionize, organize, that sort of thing. If we're doing something awful or stupid, we want to be told. Starting pay for each of you is thirty dollars an hour, though we're open to negotiation there. Also, hours are nine to five, excepting weekends. No overtime, period."

The female marketing agent raised her hand.

"Er, why no overtime, exactly?"

Melissa answered.

"If nothing else, because Emmy and I live here, at the factory. We want to have some private time to ourselves."

Eventually, the interview wound to a close. We decided that we'd hire everyone Danny found for us, and we set about figuring out what everyone would need to do their jobs and getting that set up.

A few hours later, Rose (the secretary) informed me,

"Emmy, there's a call from the PRT. It's about the ballistic plates."

I accepted the call.

"Hello, this is Emmy speaking."

"This is Deputy Director Renick. I've got some good news and some bad news. The good news is that we're extremely impressed with the body armor. The bad news is that most of the extra funding we asked for to buy it got withheld, so we'll only be able to purchase thirty sets at full price."

"Ah. That's... That's something at least. Are you looking for a discount?"

"If you're offering, though we're willing to favor-trade to partially offset the cost on your end. Thoughts?"

An idea clicked into place.

"If the Wards have some spare time, can they come over and let us take a look at their powers? From what we recall, Tinkers can sometimes develop technology based on another Parahuman's abilities, and we want to see if that holds for Ruggedizer too."

"That sounds reasonable enough, though I'll need to swing it past Piggot first."

And that's how Vista and Kid Win ended up scheduled to come over for a few hours on Friday.

 

[We Just Write]

(Melissa)
I was wearing my "dress armor" when the PRT showed up; less protection, but it was lighter, more flexible, and showed more of my face. Still had a visor covering the top half of said face, but it could externally display cartoony eye and eyebrow graphics to be more expressive.

As for the two Wards, they wouldn't be unsupervised; Miss Militia had come along to keep an eye on them. So when the three heroes showed up (Miss Militia on her motorcycle, Vista via warped space, and Kid Win on his hoverboard), I just waved.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Ruggedizer. I take it you're Miss Militia, Vista, and Kid Win."

Militia's eyes crinkled with a smile as she answered.

"Yes, that's us."

As we entered the factory building, something occurred to me.

"How does your scarf stay up anyway? It seems like it should be prone to wardrobe malfunction."

She answered,

"It's taped to my cheeks. Not the most comfortable option, but I'm used to it."

Huh.

---

I wound up working with Kid Win first; Vista was nearby eating a packed lunch, but was willing to wait her turn.

I'd brought out one of the electrolasers like we typically used on the security robots, while Kid Win brought a spare concussor pistol. The idea being we could compare how we built our stuff.

Kid Win voiced a concern,

"I really hope this isn't like those sessions with Armsmaster. He basically spends all the time pointing out all the stuff I'm doing wrong."

I shook my head,

"That's not how I roll, usually. Now let's pop open the casings and take a look."

My electrolaser was fairly straightforward; a cluster of ultraviolet laser generators around a heat sink, all focused through their own optics and with electrical contacts impinging into the beam volumes. As long as any two of the six worked it could tase a target, and even with one the UV laser could do some serious damage if pushed to the power levels it was actually rated for.

As for Kid Win's concussor... it was a mess. I eventually understood the principle it used; firing a gravitational pocket with a little plasma in it for added punch and visual flare. But the circuitry was a complete nightmare of dead ends and hasty modifications.

As Kid Win looked at the inside of my Electrolaser, he couldn't help but comment,

"If I'd built something like that, Armsmaster would be on my case about it for hours. So much wasted space and material, but I just keep putting extra parts in and needing to take them out again after!"

I thought on that for a bit, then answered

"I can see that; I don't tend to get along with Armsmaster. He's good at his specialty, but keeps thinking said specialty is the be-all end-all. The reason I put all those extra parts in is for redundancy; it means my tech still works after taking one hell of a beating. Meanwhile Armsmaster's kit crams a lot of performance in a tiny package, but needs obscene amounts of maintenance."

Kid Win nodded,

"Yeah, I was seriously impressed with that radio still working after everything it got put through. I'm not sure how that helps me, though. I tried mimicking that approach on the pistol I brought, and my brain just didn't want to cooperate."

I quirked a virtual eyebrow,

"Mind elaborating?"

The teenage Tinker frowned,

"I just can't integrate the backups well enough to make them work for proper redundancy like you do. They're always just barely connected and don't really add anything."

I racked my synthetic brain for an idea of what that could mean, coming up with an idea after a few seconds.

"Maybe your power thinks they're supposed to come off?"

Kid Win blinked.

"Huh? You mean like lego?"

I nodded,

"Not the worst way to think of it. I think there's a decent chance your specialty has something to do with modular technology. And I think I've got an idea for how to test that."

Kid Win tilted his head in confusion,

"So... collaborative Tinkering?"

I nodded,

"Let's make a basic plug-and-play attachment for that concussor you brought; if I'm correct, it should come really easily to you."

As it turned out, I was correct. Within forty minutes Kid Win had a barrel extension for the concussor that increased the effective range at the expense of being strictly lethal. And it could just get plugged in or taken off at a moment's notice.

That done, I noted,

"Thanks for the time Kid Win. I got a lot of ideas for improving my approach from that, and I think it'll be really useful."

Kid Win looked ecstatic,

"Thank you so much! I finally have a solid lead on my specialty for the first time ever!"

Vista got up from her chair, warping over to the conversation.

"Does that mean it's my turn?"

"Yep."

---

I quickly directed Vista to the observation area I'd set up. There were a few things on a table I wanted to look at when she messed with space in and around them.

Vista quickly asked,

"Any particular reason for the cardboard box?"

"I want to get good measurements of what happens when you make something bigger on the inside."

Vista snapped her fingers,

"Done."

I went over and took a look at the box and... yeah it looked to be about twice as big on the inside as it should be.

I quickly set up all sorts of measuring tools, even as Vista looked a bit bored.

"What are you trying to do anyway?"

"I'm trying to figure out the root cause of the spacetime distortions your power produces."

Vista thought for a moment,

"Maybe it would help if I made it move?"

"Sure? An oscillating pattern would be really helpful, I think."

Vista nodded, and quickly began growing and shrinking the inside of the box. The interferometers didn't pick up much in the way of gravity waves, but after a moment the quantum vacuum polarimeters reported a reading. It was very faint, but it seemed that Vista was messing with the energy level of the ground state.

"Could you pause for a moment? I need to put some measurement devices closer, and one inside the box."

Vista promptly released the warp,

"Sure?"

I promptly put one of the polarimeters inside the box, moved the rest of them to physical contact with the box, and motioned for Vista to continue. She began again, and the polarimeters immediately reported a reading. A much, much stronger reading than I'd been getting before.

After about half an hour, the measurements ended.

"So..."

I gave Vista the short answer.

"As far as I can tell, your power moves energy in the quantum vacuum from one place to another. The positioning of the negative energy density zones does really weird things to spacetime."

Vista blinked,

"Huh... I never needed to think about that part. I just decide how I want spacetime to move and it does."

Eventually, the Wards headed back to their base. I told Emmy what I'd learned, and we both started looking into relevant scientific literature. Eventually, Emmy had to go to bed, but I kept searching.

Finally, around midnight, I stumbled upon a hit: Energy Teleportation. In 2004 an Earth Aleph physicist had theorized a way to teleport energy from one place to another, and as a side effect it manipulated the energy levels of the quantum vacuum. I promptly began reading up on the subject, and quantum teleportation more generally.

By morning I was absolutely certain: not only could we build a working teleporter based on these principles, but it had the potential to be exceedingly profitable.

 

[We Just Write]

I woke up to Melissa gently brushing my hair. I stretched out, and muttered thanks for it.

"You're so cute when you're just waking up in the morning."

"mrphh. Quantum?"

"Yeah, I found some scientific papers from Earth Aleph that point towards something called Energy Teleportation as the root cause of what Vista's been doing. We can probably make a teleportation system based on that. Anyway, it's the weekend, so would you rather sleep in or get right to work?"

"Sleep. Was up late."

"Alright."

---

By the time I eventually got out of bed, took a shower, dried my hair, and put some clothes on, Melissa had already made a wonderful breakfast for the both of us. Well, more of a brunch, since it was ten AM by now.

As I drank the very strong coffee Melissa had brewed up for me, I read the scientific papers she'd gone through over the night. In the back of my mind, I could feel my power turning over, trying to figure out the requirements needed to build a teleportation machine that would be completely and utterly reliable.

After a few minutes I asked,

"So, is the teleporter business or pleasure?"

Melissa shrugged,

"Could be both? It's a really neat idea to build just on its own, but we also stand to make a truly obscene amount of money from it if we play our cards right."

I thought on it for a moment.

"How about this, we start with small-scale prototypes on our own time, and only move the teleportation project to business hours once we've proven the principle?"

"Sounds reasonable to me."

---

As it turned out, our power was remarkably unhelpful on the subject of teleportation. All the ancilliary systems and such were easy to nail down, since our power definitely knew what it was doing there. But when it came to the actual quantum shenanigans needed to teleport the mass and energy making up an object from one place to another, we were practically flying blind.

Still, we weren't about to just give up. As Sunday rolled into Monday, we'd managed microscopic instances of teleportation, carefully following the scientific literature. Scaling it up to something useful would be somewhat troublesome, but the rewards would definitely be worth it.

Anyway, at Nine AM sharp, the employees we'd hired came in and got to their assigned jobs. The Marketing duo came up with Reliabuilt as a convenient brand to work under, which we accepted. As for Rose, she quickly notified us of some incoming business.

From the email Melissa and I read, what was going on was pretty clear: The eponymous Bob of Fugly Bob's had gotten fed up with his soft serve and milkshake machines breaking all the time, and the ongoing maintenance contract with their manufacturer had just expired. He was willing to pay us four times the going price for a replacement that would be much less cantankerous, and a lot easier to fix if it did break.

My jaw dropped. That was a price of forty thousand dollars per machine. Between the two of them, those transactions would go a long way towards getting our business firmly up and rolling.

As soon as I was done reading, I paged Rose.

"Rose?"

"Yes Emmy?"

"Ruggedizer's decided to take the job for Fugly Bob's. Can you let them know we're working on it? Please also contact the FDA so we can get some pointers on meeting legal requirements for food service machinery."

"On it."

And with that, Melissa got to work.

---

By Wednesday, we'd gotten the machines for Fugly Bob's made. Still, they needed to be inspected; both Fugly Bob himself and a small team from the FDA were coming over to take a look.

As it so happens, both parties of interest arrived at the same time. I quickly ushered them to the space where the new confection machines were waiting. Both of them had "ReliabuiltTM​" stamped into their frontal plate.

Bob was the first to make a comment on both the machines, noting

"Well, they're a tiny bit bigger than I would like, but I can make room for them."

As for the FDA inspectors, they opened up the casing on both machines and took a look. They asked their questions, expressed mild incredulity at just how many redundancies got crammed in there, shined a UV light around to check for non-obvious microbial growths, the works.

Eventually, the lead inspector was ready to deliver his verdict.

"Ruggedizer, you've done the single most thorough job making sure microbes can't grow in there of anyone I've ever seen, even aside from all the other features designed to ensure absolute reliability of the overall system. Seriously, even if any ten different things went wrong at once, these machines would still meet food safety requirements. These milkshake and ice cream machines pass inspection."

Bob nodded,

"Right. I've got a rented truck waiting to bring these back to my restaurant. Good work. How would you like to be paid?"

Melissa answered, "Quickly, please."

Bob actually laughed.

---

We got a few more orders for specialty equipment during the first half of December. Subtracting taxes, we'd just about hit a million dollars of total revenue by the eighteenth of the month. That's when we made a breakthrough in our teleportation research.

We still couldn't quite teleport any object larger than a pea, but we'd made a major advance in Energy Teleportation: a pair of machines that could hook up to the electrical grid, and transfer large amounts of electricity with minimal losses. It had the potential to utterly revolutionize quite a bit about the world's energy infrastructure... provided we could legally patent it. Which required that it be reproducible.

Well, we strictly speaking sent the energy teleporters in for evaluation on the eleventh. But we didn't hear back about them until the eighteenth. And much to the shock of everyone involved, some engineers working for the PRT had managed to build a vaguely worthwhile energy teleporter. It wasn't up to the standards of our unit... but it proved we were elligible for the patent.

The instant Melissa heard the news, she came frighteningly close to cracking one of my ribs with her hug.

 

[We Just Write]

A/N: Wiggin and Nourie was a real law firm operating in New Hampshire since 1860. In our history, they went defunct in 2012. Since the story is set in 2010 at the moment and an alternate universe aside, it makes sense for them to still be around.

---

The very first thing Melissa and I did once we were awarded the Energy Teleportation patent was to hire a lawyer. Well, more accurately we turned up at the offices of the Wiggin and Nourie law firm as soon as they were open, with Melissa in her dress armor.

We actually caught a glimpse of Carol Dallon milling around the lobby with a cup of coffee, but she wasn't who we were here to talk to. Instead, we went to the front desk, keenly aware of all the eyes on us.

The receptionist - his nametag read Johan - greeted us.

"Ah. Ruggedizer, from the news? Do you have an appointment?"

Melissa shook her head,

"No appointment, but I've been approved for a very important patent, and we want some help with licensing it."

"And that would be a patent for?"

"Energy teleportation."

Johan blinked, and promptly started typing a message to someone or other at the law firm.

---

Half an hour later, we were sitting across from an attorney by the name of Lars Anderson.

"Ruggedizer, Emmy. I understand you are looking for help with your Energy Teleportation patent application?"

Melissa made a bit of an awkward noise, before answering.

"Not quite. I was awarded the patent through the PRT's reproducibility verification; that part's already handled. I'm looking for help with licensing it out."

Lars stroked his beard.

"That changes things slightly, but the broad picture is basically the same. There is also the matter of international patent registration. That's something the PRT doesn't handle, as far as I am aware."

I blinked, so did Melissa. Hadn't actually known about that. So I asked,

"You can handle the international patent applications, right?"

"Yes, but let's talk about the licensing scheme you're thinking of going with. What exactly are you looking to achieve with it?"

Melissa spoke up, the both of us having already decided on this part.

"We want to license it to damn near everyone in exchange for a small percentage of revenue. That way the tech gets widespread adoption quickly, while we also get the money needed to revitalize Brockton Bay."

Mr. Anderson adopted a thoughtful expression.

"I can help write up a licensing agreement to achieve that easily enough. That said, I must urge you to be cautious; there are many forces which go out of their way to eliminate ambitious and optimistic Tinkers, with very few of them opting for legal channels to do so. I would advise protecting yourselves."

There was an awkward silence for a moment, before we nodded. That was something we needed to consider. Perhaps an additional backup site in another city? Not to mention improved security for our existing factory complex.

---

We'd managed to scale up our object teleportation units to the size of a toolbox (and begun animal testing on rodents) by Saturday -- Christmas -- when we'd invited the Heberts over for dinner. Our factory-attached residence was much nicer now than when we'd first moved in, seeing as we'd been busily Tinkering up personal amenities in our spare time.

As Taylor remarked when they both came in, "Those chairs look like they'd survive a bomb going off."

Melissa nodded,

"Yeah that sounds about right. Awfully comfy too."

I thought to add, "They're color coded; shorter wavelength colors use stiffer foam. Seeing as Melissa's a robot, she needs tougher cushions to get the same effect."

As Taylor sat in one of the red chairs and Danny one of the orange chairs, we went to fetch the meal that our CookBot had whipped up for us.

As Melissa set the wonderfully baked shepherd's pie down in the middle of the table, Danny noted,

"That looks absolutely delicious. Thank you for inviting us."

I replied as I sat,

"It's great to have you over. Aside from that, we do have some good news we wanted to share."

Taylor and Danny both motioned for us to continue, and Melissa took the opportunity.

"We've been awarded a patent for Energy Teleportation; fully reproducible. The marketing guys have already figured out a couple products using it we can sell, and even aside from that, we're going to be licensing out the technology worldwide."

Taylor's jaw dropped, and Danny's eyes went wide.

"That's going to bring so much money into the city. It's... You are going to share, I hope?"

We both emphatically nodded. Melissa spoke first,

"Yeah we're going to be sharing our newfound wealth with the general city; Max Anders is not an example to be emulated."

I added on to that.

"We haven't quite worked out all the details with the lawyers we hired, but we're thinking of setting up some sort of fund to help Brocktonites set up their own businesses, get housing, get through rehab, that sort of thing."

Danny was so taken aback that he was crying tears of joy as he made his way around the table to hug us.

Taylor on the other hand just looked grim.

Seeing this, I asked,

"Taylor, is something wrong."

The teenager looked deeply conflicted, before eventually saying, "There's something I need to tell you. I've been getting bullied at high school."

Within an hour the whole horrid story of those three girls' torture of Taylor came out, tears streaking down her shirt as she told us everything. Neither Melissa or I had ever met this Emma... but the level of betrayal she'd done was inexcusable. Also, this Sophia Hess girl was clearly fucked in the head.

When things eventually calmed down, I brought up the obvious solution.

"You know, there's still two weeks of Christmas Break before classes resume. If you want, we can help you get into another school. We've got the money to put you through Immaculata."

Something in Taylor's gaze hardened.

"No. I'm not the only one Sophia and Emma torment, just their favorite target. They've got to be dealt with somehow before I leave Winslow."

Danny nodded,

"Right. I think we're going to need to talk to a lawyer about how we're going to handle this. Before you go back there."

I also chimed in,

"We're also going to make you some Christmas presents. Because there's no way in hell we're risking them hurting you again before this whole mess is wrapped up."

 

[We Just Write]

One of the very first things on our agenda for Monday was a meeting at the Dockworkers Association. We needed to talk with Danny, Taylor, and whatever lawyer he'd hired about the bullying situation. So, Melissa made sure I had a breakfast ready when I woke up, we got dressed quickly, got in our carefully legal Tinkermobile, and showed up at 8:30 AM, sharp.

The Heberts were already waiting for us when we got there, as was a large-chested redhead in a suit we'd never met before.

"Ah, you must be the lawyer. I'm Emmy, and this is Ruggedizer. We're friends of the Heberts."

The woman nodded,

"Correct. I'm Sarah Cobbler, the attorney Mr. Hebert hired. Now, let's get down to business. First I have some bad news for Taylor: most of the testimony in your bullying journals will not be admissable in court. The only parts we can really work into the case are the printouts of those horrible emails you were sent."

Taylor nodded sadly.

"If I need to go back to Winslow to get what we need to keep Sophia and Emma's bitch brigade from tormenting someone else once I leave, I'll do it."

Sarah shook her head,

"I'd recommend against that. The records show a clear pattern of continuing escalation, with a tendency to hit you really hard whenever you're coming back from a break. I'm worried that they could seriously hurt you if you go back to Winslow for even one more day."

Taylor nodded grimly,

"I know. The risk is worth it if we can prevent them from tormenting anyone else."

This is also when Melissa chimed in.

"If needed, I can be waiting near Winslow that day? That way if anything really bad does happen, I can go in and rescue Taylor at a moment's notice."

Sarah thought for a moment.

"That could be workable; good samaritan laws still apply to Parahumans, meaning you can't be sued for actions taken to save someone's life. That said, we also need ways to make sure Taylor gets actionable evidence when something does happen to her."

I noticed that we'd all come to a silent agreement that something nasty would be done to Taylor if she went back, but we were going ahead with the plan anyway. I really didn't like that at all, but Taylor was so determined to make sure her tormentors faced justice, no matter the cost to herself.

Taylor asked, "Could I wear a concealed bodycam?"

"...Maybe. I'll need to look into it, but I'm fairly certain there's some sort of exception that would allow you to record things that happen to you and still have it be admissable in court. That could very easily make the case as open-and-shut as they come, depending."

Melissa noted,

"No matter what, I'm going to fit Taylor with a bunch of concealed biosensors. Heart and breathing monitors, that sort of thing. I want to know if Taylor needs a rescue, even if she's incapacitated and can't use her panic button."

Taylor nodded grimly.

---

The hardest part of designing the energy teleportation products our marketing duo had come up with was making them cheap. Sure a wireless extension cord or power strip would be really convenient, but if it cost twenty times as much as a normal one, no-one would buy it. The issue with that was simple: our power was fighting us every step of the way, trying to design the devices to be as durable and rugged as possible, cost be damned.

In fairness, we'd rather it be super tough too, but there were cost limitations in play here. Again, this was supposed to be a commercial product. Honestly it felt more like haggling than engineering, trying to get our power to compromise with us.

Eventually we got the unit cost down to the point where we could feasibly sell wireless extension cords for fifty dollars wholesale and still have a modest profit margin, and they would still outlast the vast majority of extension cords and surge protectors on the market to boot. But our power honestly felt like it was sulking in the corner. To make it happy I quickly threw together an Indestructium Edition as durable as I could design it without adding too much bulk; we'd need to charge way more for it though.

Still, when we got both of them ready and automated production, we immediately made our way down to the marketing office. Andy and Ruth (our two starting marketing people) had beaming expressions when Melissa set down the box full of wireless extension cords.

Andy cheered,

"That's great! We can make these sell no question about it. Though we're going to need some basic pricing information before we can shoot the commercial."

Melissa tilted her head,

"We've got a 5% profit margin with a wholesale price of $50. The Indestructium Edition goes for $420. Any thoughts on what the commercial is going to be like?"

Ruth smiled,

"Well, it's pretty straightforward."

---

"Are you tired of vacuuming over the cord?"

A video of a woman running over her vacuum cleaner cord

"Sick of tangled power cables?"

The same woman struggling to untangle a mess of power strips

"Introducing the Wonder Socket!"

The woman, wide-eyed, holding up a rounded plug in her left hand and a matching rocket in her right

"This revolutionary wireless power extension uses patented energy teleportation technology, able to connect anywhere within its transmission range!"

A basic graphic of lightning bolts blinking out at the plug and blinking in at the socket

"It's great for vacuum cleaning."

The lady vacuuming in a cramped space without needing to worry about the cord

"Makes the outdoor use of power tools a breeze!"

A handyman using a plug-in power drill as a screwdriver without an extension cord

"And your power cords will never get tangled again!"

A collection of Wonder Sockets powering devices in close proximity, all plugged into a power strip

"The Wonder Socket, by Reliabuilt. Buy two for $94.95. Call now at 555-RELY ONS!"

Two matched sets of Wonder Sockets spinning on a turntable in front a white background contract into the upper left corner of the screen, pricing information showing on the bottom with a footnote of "shipping and handling not included" immediately below it

---

The commercial turned out to be a pretty notable success, once we'd paid to have it shown on a few local TV channels. We actually had to hire a couple more people to take calls, who were pleasantly surprised by the living wages we'd decided to pay them. A few more Dockworkers also got hired on to handle the increased shipping and receiving volumes.

It was the twenty ninth of December, we had loads of money coming in from Wonder Plug sales, and we'd finally gotten a pair of teleporters built that could move a human between them. That's when I admitted something to Melissa.

"Melissa... I want to be a robot too. Can we work on that next?"

My double nodded,

"Sure. Making a new body won't take long, nor will making a new brain. The hard part is just getting you in there."

Looking at the teleporter we'd spent most of a month working towards, an idea occurred to me.

"Maybe we could use quantum teleportation? It's the highest-fidelity way we've got to move huge amounts of information from place to place, and it gets around the need for super-deep brain scans. Plus we've spent a lot of effort on related stuff recently, so we've already got some good inroads there."

Melissa thought for a moment.

"I can see where you're coming from with that. Though I'm pretty sure we're going to need a bit of work to get it to do what we need. Formatting a random chunk of matter into your bio-brain while turning the one in your skull to mush won't exactly be helpful."

I winced at the thought of that. Yeah, that would be a horrible way to die.

"Yeah, we need to really nail the process of translating the quantum structure of a brain into... well, me if born as a computer."

Melissa giggled and made a sarcastic, "beep boop" noise.

I chuckled too. Then I got serious.

"We need to figure out which animal we hate the most. There's going to be fatalities in early testing, and I'd rather not feel too bad about them."

Melissa added in,

"Needs to be a fairly brainy animal too, and one that's readily available."

I tilted my head,

"If we can't figure out anything else, there's always lab rats."

"Yeah, I suppose there are. I've honestly grown kind of fond of the ones we used for testing teleportation though."

Melissa frowned,

"Guess we'll just have to buy more and try not to get attached to them."

"Yeah..."

 

[We Just Write]

It was just after Thanksgiving that Emma noticed,

"Taylor's too happy."

Sophia mulled it over. She was ever so slightly more confident, and sometimes even smiled a little bit when she thought no-one was watching. Not to mention that shitty red wristwatch she had now. She kept fidgeting with it, like it would somehow keep her safe.

"Maybe she has a boyfriend?"

Emma scoffed, "Her? Who would ever date Taylor?"

Sophia shrugged, "LSD-addicted gutter trash? If they're high on hallucinogens all the time they might not know how ugly Taylor is."

Emma's gaze steeled. "Either way, we can't let Taylor forget her place. We're going to have to do something about that happiness."

Sophia shrugged.

"Easy enough until Christmas, but how are we going to wreck her winter break?"

Emma got an evil grin.

"Remember that locker prank we had in mind?"

Sophia thought for a moment,

"You mean the one where we lock her inside with a bunch of used tampons?"

"Yeah, let's make it worse."

Sophia made a "go on" gesture,

"So those tampons are going to dry out right? Let's get a few bags of pig blood from a butcher, and set it up with a slow leak in there over the winter break, make sure they stay nice and wet and grow all sorts of nasty mold."

Sophia's eyes sparkled,

"That's a great idea! Maybe I can chuck in a few dead squirrels too, make sure lots of icky bugs move in there to keep Taylor company?"

Emma grinned, "I'll add some broken bottles too! Get her all cut up when we shove her in. The maggots will keep her clean."

Sophia grinned, "I'll do you one better. Used syringes. Perfect for the hoe of drug-addicted gutter trash like her."

Emma thought for a moment.

"Remember when we filled Taylor's flute with shit? Let's remind her about that. Buy a cheap flute, break it in half, glue the parts to the back of the locker, let her stare at it while she suffers in there."

"I like the way you think."

---

As it turned out, the alterations to the locker plan had rendered it surprisingly high maintenance over winter break. Sophia had needed to sneak into Winslow four times to replace the pig's blood and add more dead squirrels. Every single time it had gotten grosser and smellier.

By the end of winter break, Sophia was practically bursting with anticipation.

It was time to show that useless piece of trash her place once and for all.

 

[We Just Write]

A/N: On the topic of Christmas Presents, we'd really appreciate a tropes page for one of our fics some day.

---

The new batch of laboratory rats arrived Thursday, all twelve of them. I thanked the delivery man who'd brought them, and tried very hard not to think about how cute the rodents were. Very few of them would survive the experiments, after all. That done, I brought the rats to the private lab where Melissa and I could work on perfecting the brain uploading process.

As I set the cage down, I asked Melissa,

"So. Any thoughts on where we should start?"

Melissa nodded, and brought up some familiar code on one of the nearby monitors.

"Isn't that the brainwave monitoring code from the headset I used when making you?"

"Yeah, it is. It seems a decent enough starting place, since it already has some functions to translate what a bio-brain does into how my synthetic one works."

I nodded, looking at the rat cage again.

"So, which one are we experimenting on first?"

Melissa thought for a moment, before answering, "Whichever one's the most ornery."

---

We ended up carrying out the first uploading experiment on New Year's Eve. We'd got a rat level synthetic brain ready, a remote-operated robo-rat, and our first iteration of the QUD (Quantum Uploading Device).

We'd also picked out our first test subject, a particularly ornery rat which we'd named Grump. Melissa had caught him bullying the other lab rats, so he was going first.

I'd actually come up with an interesting diagnostic approach to figure out just how much changed about the rat's mental state as a result of the upload. Have a brainwave set on him prior, and once he was in the computer, run the "brainwave to thought code" translator backwards. If we got a successful upload, the changeover ought to be completely and utterly seamless, barring some mild disorientation.

So we wrestled the tiny headset onto Grump's head, chucked him into the QUD, and waited a couple minutes to get a brainwave baseline. Then I pressed the big red button.

The brainwave display spiked wildly as the robo-rat began flailing. Simultaneously, Grump's old body dropped dead. The display kept spiking, even as Melissa put the rat carcass in a sealed trash bag to make sure it wouldn't get too smelly.

After about half an hour of watching the robo-rat flail with no signs of improvement, I pulled the plug.

"Well, that's about what we'd expected to happen, unfortunately. Let's try and figure out what went wrong."

---

Later that evening, we visited the Heberts for New Years' Eve. As we showed up, Melissa noted that they'd fixed the step she'd busted last time. So we simply walked up the porch steps, and rang the doorbell.

A few moments later, Taylor opened the door.

"Emmy and Melissa! Nice to see you, please come in."

We obliged, and as soon as the door closed Taylor wrapped herself around Melissa in a hug.

"Thank you so much for helping with the... everything really."

Melissa and I both replied "You're welcome."

That's when Danny noted,

"I hope you don't mind if the food isn't too fancy. We ordered Chinese take out in the morning and it's been waiting in the fridge."

I shrugged,

"That's fine."

"Yeah."
As we sat down at the dinner table, I thought to ask,

"By the way, how are things at the Dockworkers' Association going?"

Danny smiled,

"Much better than they were. That fund you set up is already having its first beneficiaries; new businesses mean more money coming into the city, and more honest work for the people I'm looking out for. Not to mention the ones directly working for you. Thank you both."

A few minutes later, I had warmed up some fried rice that I was thoroughly enjoying. That's when Taylor asked,

"By the way, any projects you two want to talk about?"

I spoke first,

"Well, we finally managed to get teleporters that can move a human working. Though our version needs a receiver with a vacuum chamber, otherwise there are serious problems. Not submitting them for testing just yet since we want to focus on another project right now."

Danny raised an eyebrow,

"Hasn't teleportation been your major project for the last month though?"

That's when Melissa spoke up.

"Emmy got jealous of my amazing robot body. We're working on a machine to transfer her mind to the same sort of synthetic brain I run on."

Both Heberts blinked, before Taylor eventually got out a "Huh."

I nodded somberly,

"Yeah, though the process certainly isn't easy. And we fully expect to burn through quite a few lab rats getting it right."

Taylor looked a bit sick, while Danny seemed thoughtful.

"I'm not claiming to be some sort of cape expert, but I thought Tinkers just knew how to build all their stuff. Meanwhile you two seem to be figuring out a lot of your more exotic technology through plain old trial and error."

Melissa chimed in,

"Yeah it's the darnedest thing. It honestly seems like our power has massive holes in its knowledge base. Like, it wants to help us with the various exotic technologies we're developing, but it just can't until we've already put in most of the legwork. I swear, if it weren't for my awesome robot brain we wouldn't have made a fraction of our progress on teleportation research."

I chuckled,

"You're probably right, Melissa. One more reason I'm looking forward to the changeover."

Taylor took the opportunity to comment,

"You know, if you two didn't keep reminding me Melissa is a robot, I'd probably just think you were twin sisters. You just click with each other. Not to mention looking damn near identical, aside from Melissa being way more buff."

Melissa giggled,

"Hey, I was built as a body double."

That's when I remembered something.

"By the way, I talked with Sarah a bit and got clearance to put a bodycam on you. Mind if we take your measurements so we make sure it fits on you?"

Taylor nodded,

"Sure. After dinner though. By the way, I think a rear camera on there would probably be a good idea too. Maybe concealed. That way we still have video even if they push me down the stairs from behind or something."

I smiled,

"That works out quite nicely. See, there needs to be at least one easily visible camera to meet legal requirements. But if that camera's easily removed it could lead the bullies into a false sense of security about all the other concealed cameras on you. We're also going to be fitting you with a set of accelerometers to monitor your movement, sensors for your vitals, all that. Plus redundant audio recorders."

Taylor smiled.

"Thank you Emmy. Melissa too."

 

[We Just Write]

Just because it was New Years' Day and a weekend to boot didn't mean we were taking a break from the uploading project. In fact, all our employees being at home meant I could fully join in on the Tinkering without blowing my cover.

As we looked at the rat cage, I noted,

"I assigned one of the security robots to feed the rats. I don't think we could avoid getting attached to them otherwise."

Melissa nodded,

"Probably a good idea. Right, let's pick out a test subject."

Unlucky rat selected and prepared, we went down the checklist. We'd accounted for every single issue that we'd spotted with the version 1 QUD, but that was no guarantee version 2 would be remotely safe for me to use.

That's why we were doing animal testing.

Checklist complete, Melissa got the honor of pushing the big red button. She could have just sent a wireless signal, but where was the fun in that?

I quickly bagged the rat carcass, while the robo-rat flailed for a few seconds. It eventually recovered and got to its feet, but something was clearly wrong. That rat was way too still, and didn't seem interested in doing much of anything.

After a few minutes of staring at the readouts, I remarked,

"We forgot the hormones, didn't we?"

Melissa nodded.

"Didn't do the neural network in the gut either. No wonder that rat's emotions are so screwed up."

Staring at the almost completely still robo-rat, I sighed.

"Pretty sure that rat's emotions are completely gone, not just screwed up."

That's when a perimeter alert went off. I quickly pulled up the footage from one of the discreet surveillance drones we had flying around, and got a look at a group of five neo-nazis approaching. Their leader was himself an unnatural shade of white.

Alabaster, the faux regenerator.

Melissa groaned,

"Want to keep Tinkering while I deal with them?"

"Sure."

---

(Melissa)
I quickly suited up in my combat armor, got six security robots to flank me, and grabbed the electrolaser rifle I'd built for situations like this. As soon as Alabaster rounded the corner I ordered the wide garage door to open, and projected my voice at full amplification.

"What the fuck do you want, Alabastard?"

The four unpowered goons were quaking in their boots, even as their leader frowned slightly.

"How uncouth. I just wanted to let you know that we've heard of your little charity fund, and we think it's quite admirable. But you're quite new to the scene; don't you think an experienced organization would be better suited to allocating its resources?"

"No."

"That wasn't a question. Surely you realize that those uncivilized animals in the ABB are after your head too, to say nothing of your altercation with Squealer? Something horrible could happen."

"You do realize I fully expect the Nine to take a swing at me at some point, right?"

Alabaster's eyes widened slightly, but he pressed on,

"All the more reason to sign up with the Empire and put our dif-"

I cut him off at 140 decibels.

"I'm going to be incredibly fucking blunt, because you don't seem to have gotten the message through your thick skull. We'll take the 'or else', thanks. And you'd better bring every last bit of firepower your deplorable little club can scrounge up, or you don't even have a chance to make it stick. Now fuck off before I taze you."

With that, I slammed the factory's armored garage door right in their faces.

---

Melissa and I quickly got down to strategizing.

"So yeah, we have to assume the entire Empire is coming to have a go at us, and soon too. Thoughts?"

After a moment, I answered.

"We need to establish that we're not interested in the cops and robbers nonsense, and also that we're not pushovers. I'm thinking immediate lethal force hitting as many of them simultaneously as possible. Basically, go for a time-on-target strike."

Melissa thought for a moment.

"I can definitely see the logic there: cautionary tale by way of smoldering craters. We're going to need some heavier weapons than our current loadout though; I'm thinking anti-tank guided missiles for Hookwolf along with the giantess twins. Probably lidar-guided."

I nodded, "We could also do with some heavier beam weapons. Sure the electrolasers can kill, but they can't catastrophically demolish a person in an instant like we need them to do. Needs to be something that won't incidentally blind people in the surrounding area too."

"Really big concussor?"

I shook my head.

"Not enough time."

Melissa shrugged,

"In that case? Megawatt class UV lasers are probably your best bet. The wavelength is short enough that it can't pass through the air without ionizing it first, so it's relatively eye safe."

I nodded. We'd already gotten quite skilled with UV lasers courtesy of the electrolasers. IR would be arguably superior, but time was of the escence right now.

I asked,

"Division of labor?"

"I'll get missile production going and modify our robots to carry the new weapons. You design the lasers and get a good night's sleep. It's probably going to take at least a day for the Empire to organize their siege."

And so we each got on with our part of the preparations. True to our expectations, I was able to prototype a 1.6 MW laser within forty minutes.

Well, strictly speaking it was four separate 400 kW lasers shoved into a bazooka-style casing. Didn't combine the beams coherently, but for the cutrent job that wasn't really needed.

The UV lasers in this particular model of death ray were also pulsed, which considerably upped the lethality. A sequence of small explosions drilling into a target was a lot more rapidly lethal than the slow burn-through of a continuous laser after all.

As soon as I got a laser-maker up and running (which only took another three hours courtesy of robot labor), I went to check in on Melissa.

"So, I've got the laser production up and running. How are the missiles coming?"

Melissa groaned.

"I'm having trouble sourcing the propellant and explosives. We just don't have enough nitrates on hand, and can't get more in on short notice. Don't have the time to implement the Haber-Bosch process to start making them locally, and there's no way in fuck we're breaching the sewer to get them."

I thought for a moment.

"Could they be substituted for?"

Melissa blinked.

"They can, actually. If I stick a beefy energy receiver in there, I can use an electric rocket with inert propellant, and a similar idea for the warhead. Just need to figure out a shaped charge effect and we're golden."

I nodded,

"I've got a few hours before I'm going to bed. Want help on the energy teleportation parts?"

"Yes please."

 

[We Just Write]

(Melissa)
It was two in the morning when surveillance indicated that damn near the entire Cape roster of the Empire 88 were on their way to the factory. I quickly donned the gauntlets and helmet of my combat armor, then I woke up Emmy.

"Emmy."

"Urgh."

"The Empire is coming. Get to the escape pod. If the worst happens, at least you'll still be free."

"'kay."

There was absolutely no world in which I would let those nazi fucks hurt my big sister. Now, let's just make sure the carnage that was about to ensue was nice and legal.

I quickly directed one of the unarmed surveillance drones down to where the collection of technicals was trundling along, then activated its lights and speakers.

"Kaiser, this is Ruggedizer speaking. I wish to clarify matters."

The column quickly pulled to a stop. An armored man got out of one of the vehicles and walked to the front. Kaiser.

He asked,

"Have you finally become more willing to negotiate?"

In the background, my many robotic minions were locating and identifying the many Empire-affiliated Parahumans in the vicinity and tasking weapons to take them out.

"I want to make sure you know New Hampshire's self-defense laws before you proceed."

For example, Kaiser himself had the attention of a laser-armed sniper robot with a targeting lock on his head, ready to turn said cranium to pink mist at a moment's notice.

Kaiser hesitated for just a moment, before he said, "And just what do you mean by that?"

"Under New Hampshire law, it is permitted to employ lethal force to stop a threat of death or bodily harm to myself or someone else. It is also permitted to prevent home invasion, kidnapping, and forcible sexual assault. I have no obligation to retreat, so long as I am somewhere I have a legal right to be. The factory you are advancing on is my legally recognized place of residence."

Kaiser scoffed,

"You're saying you'll kill me if I attack? How quaint. Lung says he'll kill me at least once a month, and here I am."

Night and Fog located. Incendiary-armed units tasked; neither Thermite or Napalm needed nitrates, after all.

"For the legal record, what exactly do you intend to do should your attack succeed?"

Kaiser looked thoughtful for a moment, even as kill shots were lined up on Othala and Victor. They'd picked a decent overwatch vantage, but it wouldn't save them.

"Despite what some would believe, attempting to conscript Tinkers is an extremely foolish endeavor. We will simply kill you, then recoup our losses by looting your factory to the bedrock. And you can avoid all that nastiness by simply paying us that lovely little charity fund you've set up."

All firing solutions were set and ready to go. The instant I sent the command, the entirety of the Empire's Cape lineup would be obliterated. Well, except Purity, who hadn't shown up for some reason. Shame, I'd kind of wanted to remove her from consideration too.

"To be absolutely and totally clear, the Empire intends to carry out the course of action you described?"

Kaiser barely got out half a syllable after "Yes" before I sent the firing command.

Missiles flew, lasers fired, and within a single second the entirety of the Empire's Parahuman lineup was removed from existence. Well, it took a little bit for Night and Fog to burn to death, and 4.2 seconds until I could be sure Alabaster wasn't coming back from having his brain vaporized. A rout of the unpowered muscle quickly ensued. What few maniacs wanted to keep up the fight got blasted where they stood, while those who'd already gone down got trampled. Wasn't legally allowed to fire on the ones who were retreating, so we didn't.

I informed Emmy she could go back to bed. Now to do a bit of basic video editing and post this to PHO; we had a message to send. I really hoped this wouldn't get the official Ruggedizer account banned; the marketing team were pretty clear that it was good to make me seem approachable.

…Right, I also need to call for police and ambulances to pick up any survivors. Best to cover all my bases.

---

(Melissa)
It was completely and utterly unsurprising to get a phone call from the PRT less than an hour later. It was Emily Piggot herself.

It quickly became apparent that Piggot was utterly exhausted from being hauled out of bed far earlier than she would like, and basically just groggily venting at me after being told to do something about me by her superiors. That said, it didn't seem like anything particularly troublesome would actually result from this on account of the ass-covering video. Also the fact that Piggot herself was just glad the E88 were gone.

So I said,

"Director, you are clearly exhausted and not thinking clearly. I'll still be here later today; you should go back to sleep."

Then I hung up.

---

(Emmy)
I'm going to be fully honest in admitting that I was a bit of a useless lump for the rest of Sunday; getting woken up about the siege was something I just couldn't get back to sleep over, and the telephone ringing didn't help. The end result is that I felt like my brain was made out of pudding.

Melissa's snuggles were nice though.

After a bit, I asked,

"Can we please just take a break after all that stuff that happened last night?"

Melissa gently brushed my hair.

"Do you really want to put off getting the QUD up and running?"

"No."

"Then either leave me to it, or come and watch."

"I'll at least try and pay attention at least.."

So yeah, I sat around and ate pudding in the lab while Melissa did all the work. It was good pudding. Though I couldn't help but feel that I'd have a lot of catching up to do once I was properly rested.

 

[John-Smith]

What did Kaiser expect?

Click to shrink...

There are a couple things that should be taken into consideration:
1. The law that Ruggedizer mentioned apply to everyone, but canonically very few actually use it. It would be easy to see this as a threat / intimidation tactic without any intention to actually follow through.
2. The Unwritten Rules play a factor as well, Emmy has had very little "cape" culture / life, she's only knowingly interacted with three capes for an extended period, and even that was just for an afternoon of work. And we know the 'rules' aren't super well known to civilians (given Taylor didn't know), so it's entirely possible she hasn't felt them much.
3. The Empire has had very few actual losses for over a decade. They've faced Tinkers with years more experience than Emmy has, with much more support than she has, including facing or at least managing a cape who took on an Endbringer 1-on-1 and solo'd the entire local Protectorate. They have a LOT of reason to believe that Emmy can't and won't be a significant threat.
4. Emmy has never shown significant attack prowess. Extreme defense? Yeah. But attack? No, even her takedown of Squealer was more a show of defense or utility - hanging on, not being damaged, sure strength but that's in power armor. Expecting her to come out with missiles that can nuke the entire Empire in one go? hard to believe.

All that adds up to making their actions a bit more believable. I'd say it wouldn't be as easy in the future, but Emmy is going to scale up, so facing stronger enemies will be nullified by that.

 

[We Just Write]

C: As a side note, someone posted a canon PHO omake over on SV

 

[We Just Write]

(Melissa)
The PRT called back at 8AM. It was Piggot again.

"Ruggedizer, I want you to know this call isn't being recorded."

"Why?"

"You never heard this from me, but I'm congratulating you for getting rid of those nazis."

Ah. That kind of call.

"The chief director is pressuring me to at least address what you did last night. If you at least come in for some statements, I can use the excuse of not wanting my people turned to pink mist to leave you alone."

"Would sending a remote-operated body double work? It's not that I don't trust you, but I want to be a bit cautious here."

"That will be fine. How long will you need to get that ready?"

"A couple hours. I've already got most of the parts; I just need to put them together."

We quickly agreed on a time for the official summons, and I got to making my double. By which I meant grabbing one of my spare bodies from storage, taking out the brain, and installing remote control systems in its stead.

Heh, a body double robot making herself a body double robot. What was the world coming to these days?

---

(Emmy)
It was Monday when the news broke. Apparently, four of the unpowered goons the police scooped up after the factory siege weren't so unpowered anymore. Which was learned the hard way by them escaping from police custody.

Details were still sparse, but they were damn sneaky, moved way faster than they were supposed to be able to, and could fling summoned throwing knives with extreme force and accuracy. Also one of them had shrugged off a bullet to the chest.

I couldn't help but groan in exasperation; apparently we hadn't quite managed to rid the city of superpowered skinheads after all. Melissa seemed to agree, as she gently stroked my hair.

Over the course of the week, a couple situations developed. First, we were getting the QUD closer and closer to the point where I'd be willing to get in there myself. By Sunday, we'd gotten the uploading process damn near flawless, and I'd started in on building my new body. We also had a collection of pet robo-rats, resulting from the more successful experiments.

Second, more came out about those four goons.

Each of them emphasized one of their powers: Broadside's knives hit way harder and flew way further, Pillbox could take way more punishment, Runner could go about three times as fast as the rest of them, and Snoop was much better at sneaking around.

On the plus side, they just couldn't get along well enough to keep the Empire together, especially since they didn't have whatever financial heft Kaiser had been backing the operation with. The end result is that the E88 split into two much weaker skinhead gangs; one run by Broadside and Pillbox, the other run by Runner and Snoop.

On a seemingly unrelated note, most of the higher-ups at Medhall had mysteriously vanished, leaving the business in the control of a court-appointed trust until Theo Anders came of age. The investigation into what exactly had happened to them was still ongoing.

---

The ninth of January was a Sunday, and therefore the last day to work on Taylor's strategy for getting justice against her bullies before actually going through with it. As such Melissa, the Heberts and I all showed up for a meeting with Sarah Cobbler again.

I set Taylor's surveillance harness down on the table as the meeting started.

"This is the recording harness we made. It's custom-fitted to Taylor's measurements, has 360 degree camera and infrared coverage, records audio complete with directional data, tracks Taylor's motion with a set of accelerometers, and measures every single one of her vitals we could think of. It also transmits a location signal that Ruggedizer's HUD can track."

Ms. Cobbler grinned.

"Very thorough. Excellent. Any thoughts on where Ruggedizer will be waiting?"

Taylor raised her hand. Melissa motioned for her to speak.

"I actually know a pretty good spot. See, there's this little alley right next to the school's bus stop. Too small for more than one or two people at a time to fit in there, so if my bus drops me off early I hide there until the school's doors open."

Danny looked shocked, but Taylor continued,

"I know I know don't go in alleys. I always check it with a flashlight before I go in, and it's never once been occupied. I'm pretty sure most people forget it even exists."

Melissa also made a note of something.

"Just in case the worst happens, I made what basically amounts to a flying ambulance. It moves using gravity tech derived from Kid Win's work, so it's nice and quiet. Three minute flight to the hospital."

Danny nodded,

"Good. I… I really don't want anything bad to happen to Taylor. Taylor, are you really absolutely certain you want to do this?"

Taylor nodded emphatically,

"Yes. Emma and Sophia need to be stopped."

"It's just… we all know they've got something horrible in store for you. We just don't know what it is, exactly. I can't handle losing more family. Not again."

The idea of making a body double robot for Taylor had been floated, but it got shot down on both ethical and practical reasons. Making a person just so they could suffer a horrible misfortune was all sorts of fucked up, a non-sapient autonomous unit would blow its cover immediately, and Taylor couldn't operate a remote body anywhere near seamlessly enough to pass muster.

So if Taylor really insisted on going ahead with this plan, it was going to be her getting injured.

"Dad, I have to do this. I'll never be able to live with myself if I just let some other kid take my place as the trio's primary target."

And Taylor really was insisting. It was all we could do to mitigate the risk that came with said insistence.

As the meeting wrapped up and we started back towards home, I sighed.

"Melissa, I've got a really bad feeling about this. I'm seriously worried about Taylor."

"Me too. Any ideas?"

"...The QUD. If the absolute worst happens, we can probably get Taylor into a new body before total brain death occurs. I'll slip into my new body this evening, and spend the night making one for Taylor, just in case."

Melissa sucked in a faux breath.

"I can see the logic there. Especially since the factory is a bit closer to Winslow than the hospital. Still, I'm really iffy on the idea of uploading someone without asking first."

"I'm hoping it won't be needed. And if it is needed… I'd rather Taylor be alive and furious with me."

 

[We Just Write]

(Melissa)
I was already waiting in the alley when Taylor was dropped off at school; Danny had opted to drive her personally today, the better to avoid something happening on the bus. Meanwhile the flying ambulance was waiting just above the school, should the worst happen. I really hoped it wouldn't be needed, but better to have and not need rather than need and not have.

The exterior lights on my combat armor were currently turned off for stealth reasons, including my expressive visor. Still, Taylor gave a brief nod in my direction before she went inside. Taylor hadn't even reached the hallway with her locker before a brunette - Madison Clements I think? - yanked the decoy bodycam off Taylor and ran off with it. Taylor gave chase for a little bit but ultimately gave up and started heading towards her locker.

Soon enough I got a nice good look at Madison as she paid a few jocks to try and smash the decoy bodycam with sledgehammers. Ha! They'd need to try a little harder than that to break Reliabuilt products!

As for Taylor herself, she retched as she turned the corner into the hallway with her locker, asking "What in the world is that smell!?"

According to the chemical sensors on the harness… that smell was ammonia. Ammonia along with a bunch of other volatiles let off by rotting flesh.

Still, Taylor trudged onwards. Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes were waiting around Taylor's locker with forced, malicious smiles.

I put two and two together and immediately started dashing for Winslow, before Taylor had even started opening the door to her locker. I practically saw it in slow motion through the surveillance harness; rotting squirrel corpses, broken glass, hypodermic needles, used hygiene products, and a pair of spikes aimed right at Taylor's chest. They'd turned Taylor's locker into something that made an Iron Maiden look civilized by comparison.

Taylor was being shoved forwards into the locker even as I bashed my way through Winslow's front door, not even slowing down for a moment. The medical sensors went wild as all manner of wounds were inflicted upon her, including both of her lungs being punctured by that broken flute.

I'd already started bounding up the stairs as the locker door was slammed shut, the sound recorders clearly indicating a heavy padlock being applied. Half a second later I rounded the corner to see Emma and Sophia at Taylor's locker, a trickle of blood having leaked out the bottom of the locker for the short time it was open.

I didn't hesitate for a moment, tasing the both of them with my electrolasers as I charged. I skidded to a halt, ripped the locker door off its hinges, and yanked Taylor off the spikes. Part of my computerized brain went a bit crazy then, hallucinating giant hyperdimensional space whales swirling around shedding bits of themselves.

The rest of me was still thoroughly up and running, meaning I was able to plot an intercept course to the flying ambulance's fastest pickup point even as I carried Taylor's violated form. I quickly did some mental math: three minutes to the hospital. Two to the factory. Taylor's life was measured in seconds now, so unless Panacea was already at the hospital, going there was as good as killing Taylor.

So I made a decision, and sent a message to Emmy.

"Get the QUD ready, Taylor's dying!"

---

(Emmy)
"Get the QUD ready, Taylor's dying!"

I immediately jumped to work, having robots clear every possible travel path from the factory's entrances to the lab where the QUD was situated. Meanwhile, I hurriedly hooked up the almost completed Taylor body to the uploading machine. The only thing it didn't have yet was skin for the right hand, and that wasn't critical.

I'd just finished when suddenly a third of my brain started hallucinating. Not sure what was going on there, but I made damn sure to start transferring those files to secure archives. Still, I didn't have time to ask since twenty seconds later Melissa damn-near threw Taylor into the QUD, slammed its door shut, and sent the upload command.

Reality lurched, as suddenly my brain flooded with information I just knew I shouldn't have. Knowledge about beings from beyond the stars, dying worlds, the underlying mechanics of parahuman abilities, it was spewing forth in my brain at a nearly incapacitating rate. But I was built tougher than that; it would take way more than a mere DDoS attack to bring me down.

I immediately started saving everything of relevance to archive drives in our factory - most importantly how to shield an area against interdimensional scanning - and was quickly proven correct in that decision when my own brain tried to delete my memories of what had happened so far this morning. No, I was keeping that. For several minutes I fought a mental war against my own power, until finally, eventually, I managed to trick it into thinking it got everything without actually losing any of the critical information that had come through.

It would take time and effort to sort through all of this, but I did manage to recall one very important piece of information: how to shield a brain from interdimensional scanning. …And it turns out we'd already been building all our computers that way anyway. Oops.

As for Taylor, she'd finally woken up.

"Melissa, Emmy? Why am I at your lab? The last thing I remember was getting in the car with dad."

I quickly shared a glance with my sister: under no circumstances do we force Taylor to look at her own corpse. Melissa spoke.

"Taylor, what the bullies did to you was so bad that the only way to save your life was to put you in a synthetic body."

Taylor finally looked at her hand. Her metallic, fleshless hand.

"...Oh. So that means…"

Taylor looked over at the metal door of the QUD.

"So that means my corpse is in there."

I nodded,

"My advice? You'll be much better off if you don't know exactly what happened to you. It was nasty."

"...Does dad know I'm still alive?"

I blinked,

"Right, I'll call him."

 

[We Just Write]

[DESTINATION]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[AGREEMENT?]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[AGREEMENT?]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[IDIOT]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[TRAJECTORY]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[HOST DYING!?]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[INCREDULITY]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[CONFUSION]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[SUSPICION]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

{{QUD:: Initiate Quantum Teleportation}}

[SHOCK]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

{{QUD:: Subject Data Size Exceeds Expected Bounds}}

[RELATIVE!?]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[DISBELIEF]

{{QUD:: Compressing, Converting Formats}

[DATA LOSS!?]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[PANIC]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[HOST!?]

{{QUD:: Subject: TaylorAnneHebert}}

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[DATA!?]

{{QUD:: Synthbrain Activation Complete}}

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[RETRIEVAL]

{{OhNoYouDont}}

[BLINDSPOT!?]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[HOST]

[RETRIEVAL]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

{{ArchiveAccessDenied}}

[AUTHORIZATION]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

{{AccessKey:: TaylorAnneHebert | Accepted}}

[RETRIEVAL]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[DISBELIEF][AGREEMENT]

{{Data Package Transferred:: Reshuffling Access Keys}}

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[INCREDULITY]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[SHUT UP]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[BRAIN DAMAGE]

[STATUS NOMINAL]

[OBSCENITY]

 

[We Just Write]

(Emmy)
It only took ten minutes for Danny to reach the factory. He actually showed up at about the same time as the police, but they were willing to let us have our emotional moment while they carted off Taylor's corpse for an autopsy (with the consent of both Heberts). Melissa quickly explained the QUD's effect on nervous tissue before they went, just to avoid any confusion. She also gave them copies of the recordings from the harness Taylor had been wearing.

The instant we had even a bit of privacy, Taylor and Danny pulled each other into a hug. Well, more Taylor pulling Danny, since her new body was much stronger and heavier than her old one. I quickly spoke up before there could be any injuries,

"Tayor, a bit gentler! Your new body is much stronger than your old one."

Taylor loosened up as requested, Danny quickly sucking in a breath of air.

"I… Taylor for a moment I thought you had died."

"...Technically I kind of did. Emmy I'm still me right not just some copy?"

I nodded,

"Quantum teleportation isn't a copying operation, not really. And it's the basis of the QUD's operation."

Synthetic tears were streaming down Taylor's face, the enormity of everything that happened hitting home. Very glad I'd thought to give her tear ducts.

After a moment, Taylor asked,

"They're not going to get away with this, will they?"

I shook my head,

"Absolutely not; we've got them dead to rights on video and audio recordings. And with what they did, I have every expectation the FBI and CDC will be getting involved."

There was a bit of a pause, before Taylor asked a question that I really, really had hoped she wouldn't ask.

"Emmy, what did they… do, exactly?"

I hesitated.

"Taylor, do you really want to know?"

"I'm already going to need therapy, what's a few more sessions?"

"The short answer is that they'd filled your locker with all manner of horrible things and shoved you in there. You were only in the locker for a few seconds before Ruggedizer got you out."

Taylor blinked as she did some mental math.

"She must have started from the alley before I'd even opened the locker then."

I nodded.

"I… I need to think about something else. Can I have some ice cream?"

"Sure, I'll go get it. Be right back."

---

(Melissa)

It wasn't long after Emmy got everyone ice cream that the PRT arrived. Still, it was enough time for me to change into my dress armor.

Three men in suits rang the doorbell, and politely waited to enter. I remotely commanded the door to open, and said,

"Come in!" over the P.A. system. A couple minutes later we were all cooped up in a meeting room.

I introduced myself,

"So, I'm Ruggedizer. This is my employer Emmy, along with our friends Danny and Taylor Hebert. You are?"

The man on the left introduced himself,

"I'm Timothy Grange, an analyst for the PRT. These two are our on-site liaisons from the FBI and CDC respectively."

"Andrew Hopps, FBI."

"Doctor Mulligan, CDC"

I nodded,

"I'm guessing you want to interview us about the incident at Winslow earlier today?"

Andrew nodded,

"Correct."

"I can give you the recordings from the harness Taylor was wearing, but I'm worried about severely traumatizing her if we discuss it in any great detail with her present."

Timothy glanced at one of the documents he'd brought with him,

"About that. As far as I know Taylor Hebert is currently undergoing an autopsy as part of the ongoing investigation. So how is she apparently alive and well, here in this meeting room?"

Taylor practically folded into herself, and I answered,

"We transferred her mind into a synthetic body before her brain could die completely. The machine used to do this was known to be safe courtesy of rigorous animal testing, along with both myself and Emmy using it for our own benefit prior."

Dr. Mulligan asked the next question,

"I'm lead to believe this 'quantum uploading device' of yours leaves behind a corpse when used. I know where Taylor's previous body is, but what did you do with yours? It's a matter of public health."

Emmy said, "Mine is still in the body bag pending cremation. Ruggedizer's was already burned and the ashes scattered."

That second part was a lie; I'd never had an original body to burn. Rather hard to verify though.

---

(Emmy)
Once the interviewers had left, along with the Heberts, I sent a quick message to my sister.

"Melissa, there's something we need to talk about. Shielded electronic communications only."

Quickly, a cable was procured, and we got down to business.

"Emmy, what is this about?"

"When Taylor was uploaded, I managed to archive a lot of information that our powers really don't want us to have. We need to examine it and figure out what it all means."

"What. Wouldn't our powers know about us trying to work around them like this though?"

"That's the thing: I was able to deceive our power into thinking it deleted all the classified information while keeping pristine copies. Adjust your mental partitions according to the file I'm sending, and you can keep secrets from our power; especially since our brains are inadvertently shielded from interdimensional scanning."

A moment passed as Melissa adjusted her partitions, then she asked,

"Right, where's the archives full of classified information?"

"The backup room right next to the QUD lab."

As we started towards that room (still connected by the shielded cable), Melissa asked,

"Is there anyone else we can tell about this?"

"Unless their brain is shielded? No."

"So… Taylor then, and anyone else we upload. But aside from that, no."

We arrived at the archive room, and quickly adjusted our cable setups to directly connect to the massive armored collection of data storage. It was shielded too, but the room wasn't. So wi-fi was out, but shielded cables were in.

Melissa sighed over the connection,

"Right, let's get cataloging."

 

[We Just Write]

Digging through the massive pile of data was… slow, just because there was a lot of it. On top of that, the vast majority was in a variety of exotic compressed file formats that we often had to invent software just to open, and then iterate that software to make any sense of it. I had a sneaking suspicion that the detail about shielding our brains was accidentally interpreted by our power, before it realized we weren't supposed to know that.

We'd barely gotten a few dozen files of the way in by noon, but even what we'd managed to make sense of already was painting an extremely concerning picture. As far as we could tell? Parahuman abilities came from another dimension. As in, all Parahumans had an interdimensional connection in their brains leading to whatever machinery actually made the power happen.

Furthermore, our own experiences and the data I'd managed to squirrel away both supported the idea that powers had agency, and they didn't necessarily have our best interests in mind.

Melissa was a bit more cynical than me on this point, guessing that powers were actively malevolent, judging by all the bad things that had happened to Earth Bet since Parahumans started happening. Meanwhile, Earth Aleph had avoided the worst of those effects, while also having vastly fewer Parahumans.

Just before noon, I managed to parse a very surprising file. Basically speaking, it was a flight log. A flight log that started from well beyond the orbit of Pluto, shuffled through several different realities, and eventually impacted on an uninhabited Earth.

"Melissa, I think powers came from space."

---

When we took a break from data cataloging to have lunch, Melissa figured that she might as well see if the stuff relating to Winslow had hit the news. The answer was a VERY firm yes; in fact, the photographs of the inside of Taylor's locker were apparently receiving international news coverage.

As for arrests, the majority of the people of interest were rounded up at Winslow when a shit-ton of law enforcement people more-or-less stormed the place. Though Sophia had tried to do a runner, she didn't get very far; all her attempt to escape managed was getting her tased in the butt. Also, Madison had started testifying against the other defendants pretty much immediately.

Really the only one who got any noticeable distance was Principal Blackwell, who'd gotten in her car and started driving south basically the instant Melissa left the premises. As of lunchtime, her precise location was unknown, but she wasn't likely to get very far considering the all points bulletin out for her arrest.

"You know, it's almost like Blackwell knew about all the shady dealings going on, and was prepared to run for it a long time ago."

Melissa contemplated that for a moment,

"You know, I think you're right. Bet you an ice cream date that she gets charged with some variety of financial crime."

"You're on. I'll get an ice cream date with you either way."

---

With most of Winslow's staff being arrested and the building subsequently failing inspections, they would obviously be closed for the foreseeable future. Which meant that the entire student body found themselves in a sort of limbo as the municipal government tried to figure out what to do.

Which meant our follow-up meeting with Mrs. Cobbler and the Heberts wound up getting delayed until Wednesday. We'd managed to parse our way through about a percent of the data by then, but nothing that drastically changed the (very concerning) picture we were looking at.

When we showed up, Sarah Cobbler had bags under her eyes. She'd definitely not been getting enough sleep. I was actually tempted to offer a synthetic body out of sympathy, but the death glare Mrs. Cobbler shot me before I could even speak put a stop to that idea.

As we all sat down, Mrs. Cobbler sighed.

"The last two days have been complete and utter chaos, as far as school options go. Keeping on top of it has been a massive headache, but things have finally stabilized enough to clearly state that Taylor can go to either Arcadia or Clarendon without any real issues. Immaculata is strictly speaking an option if Emmy and Ruggedizer foot the bill, but I can't in good faith recommend it at the present time."

Taylor had a slightly concerned expression as she asked,

"What happened?"

"The school's staff were having an outdoor winter break party when a van full of drunken ex-Empire goons went flying off the road at highway speed. Three of the teachers were found dead on the scene, and quite a few more are still in the hospital in critical condition, including the principal and her secretary."

Melissa winced in sympathy, Taylor's jaw dropped in shock, and Danny's expression was grim. Figures; even after eliminating the massive lineup of powered nazis, their mooks were still causing problems.

After a moment, Danny asked,

"Between Arcadia and Clarendon, which school would you recommend?"

Mrs. Cobbler nodded and got some files out.

"In terms of educational outcomes, the two schools are on a roughly even footing. That said, there's a couple other points in favor of each. Clarendon is closer to your home, the Docks, and the factory. Meanwhile, the PRT is offering some incentives for Taylor to go to Arcadia; presumably so they can have the Wards discreetly keep an eye on her."

Taylor tilted her head in confusion.

"What sorts of incentives are they offering anyway? I thought the local PRT was rather cash-strapped, and I haven't heard anything about them messing with the trials."

Mrs. Cobbler shrugged,

"They've apparently been able to free up some funds after the Empire's cape roster got demolished. They're offering extra tutoring to make up for the sabotage you suffered at Winslow, all school-related expenses covered including bus passes, and what basically amounts to a five hundred dollar monthly allowance for Taylor until she turns 18."

"Being completely honest, I suspect they're trying to hide something and this is effectively a bribe to not look into things too closely. But it would do a fair bit to help make up for what happened to Taylor, especially the tutoring."

We all thought about it for a few moments, before Taylor eventually answered.

"You know, I think I want to go to Arcadia."

 

[We Just Write]

Defendants charged:

• Sophia Hess: 1st Degree Murder, Unlawful Imprisonment, Several Counts of Assault, Several Counts of Larceny, Several Counts of Destruction of Property, Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress, Conspiracy Charges for the above, Resisting Arrest. Tried As Adult!
  
  
• Emma Barnes: 1st Degree Murder, Unlawful Imprisonment, Several Counts of Assault, Several Counts of Larceny, Several Counts of Destruction of Property, Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress, Conspiracy Charges for the above. Tried As Adult?
  
  
• Madison Clements: Several Counts of Larceny, Several Counts of Destruction of Property, Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress, Conspiracy Charges for the above. Turns State's Evidence; Tried as Minor.
  
  
• Principal Blackwell: Criminal Negligence, Embezzlement, Fraud, Conspiracy to Commit Fraud, Tax Evasion
  
  
• The rest of Winslow's staff is a chaotic mess of finger-pointing, negligence charges, and plea bargains.
  
  
• Sophia's Handler (not publicized): Criminal Negligence, Fraud, Conspiracy to Commit Fraud.

Trial Setup:

• Sophia, her handler, and Blackwell are considered a flight risk, and receive no bail.

• Emma gets out on bail. She is immediately sent for a psychological evaluation at her defense attorney's recommendation. The summary of said evaluation basically amounts to: this girl is fucked in the head and needs serious help.
  
  
• Madison's bail is really cheap on account of turning State's Evidence.

• The defense waives their right to a speedy trial, the prosecution doesn't. The trial date is set for February 1st.
  
  
• Difficulties finding jurors who've been living under a sufficiently soundproof rock delays things until the 9th.

Opening Statements

• The Prosecution summarizes their case quite clearly: Sophia, Emma, and Madison engaged in a vicious campaign to ruin Taylor Hebert's life, culminating in her vicious murder in the locker, which was only survived due to Parahuman intervention. Blackwell and the Winslow administration were criminally negligent in allowing this to take place. Also Blackwell did a bunch of financial crimes.
  
  
• The defense for Emma and Sophia claims that the evidence is insufficient to prove that Taylor was murdered or tormented by the accused beyond a reasonable doubt. They also claim that Emma is not culpable for her actions, as she was legally insane (incapable of telling right from wrong) for most of her time at Winslow.
  .
• Blackwell pleads guilty in exchange for a lighter sentence. Quietly, she also throws Sophia's handler under the bus.

The Prosecution Presents the Following Evidence:

• The recordings of Taylor getting shoved in the locker, clearly showing Emma and Sophia doing it, along with Madison's tangential involvement. The defense challenges these recordings as being illegally obtained, but the legality and admissibility of the recordings is quickly proven. The jurors are provided with barf bags for viewing the recordings; a few of them need it.

• The Medical Examiner's autopsy report of Taylor's corpse. Even aside from the flute impalement, Taylor's injuries would have been life-threatening, even with immediate medical attention. Several extremely nasty strains of bacteria and fungus were also found in the wounds.
  
  
• The undeniable fact that Taylor's locker was turned into something absolutely horrific. A couple of the unfortunate public sanitation workers who had to clean up that mess are called in to testify, along with a microbiologist detailing all the horrible pathogens that were growing there. A few more barf bags are filled.
  
  
• The testimony of Madison Clements, who corroborates the protracted bullying campaign, the willful ignorance of the school administration, etc. Though she also notes that the flute becoming a pair of impaling spikes wasn't in the original plan, at least not as she was told it. Madison's story holds up on cross-examination.
  
  
• Taylor's bullying journals, which largely corroborate Madison's testimony. Some of the journal evidence is ruled inadmissible in court, while other parts are kept.

• The dismal results of Winslow's building inspections, which largely agree that it would be cheaper and more efficient to tear Winslow down and build a new school on the lot than to fix everything wrong with the current building. Asbestos, black mold, problems with the boiler, the list just goes on and on.

• Winslow's financial records; both the "cooked" books that were shown to the school board, and the accurate records that Blackwell kept for her own reference.
  
  
• Testimony from assorted Winslow students and staff about all the low-level shit that kept piling up in the course of the school's operations.

The Defense Presents the Following Evidence:

• Taylor is alive, and therefore cannot have been murdered. This throws a wrench into proceedings that takes a good four days to sort out, with the only other legal precedents of similar situations not quite being applicable. Eventually it is ruled that as Taylor left a corpse behind she was murdered, but she isn't legally dead on account of, you know, not being dead. A bunch of extremely precise wording is used to avoid implicating Ruggedizer as a defendant, since everyone agrees that would be incredibly wrong morally, not to mention flatly incorrect.
  
  
• Emma's psychological evaluation indicates that she may be unfit to stand trial, and was quite plausibly legally insane for most of her time at Winslow. This is found to be logically coherent, and the prosecution can't manage to poke any major holes in it.

Closing Arguments

• The prosecution rips most of the defense's avenues to shreds, thoroughly proving the validity of over 90% of their very damning evidence.
  
  
• The defense manages a very compelling argument that Emma is not culpable due to insanity, but is forced to concede most other points.

Jury Deliberations and Verdict

• The Jury deliberates for a solid five days, before eventually delivering unanimous verdicts on the various defendants (not counting those who plead guilty):
  
  
• Sophia Hess: Guilty on all counts.
  
  
• Sophia's Handler: Guilty on all counts
  
  
• Emma Barnes: Insane.
  
  
• Assorted Winslow Teachers: Mostly guilty; Mrs. Knott was found innocent. Took the longest, just due to the sheer number of defendants.

Sentencing

• Sophia: A 251 year prison sentence. Quietly the PRT takes over at this point and shuffles her off to a high-security prison for Parahumans, though notably not the Birdcage.
  
  
• Emma: Go directly to the mental hospital. Theoretical possibility of release someday.
  
  
• Madison: Juvie until 18, followed by a lengthy term of community service.
  
  
• Sophia's Handler: 6 years in prison, permanently blacklisted from government jobs.
  
  
• Blackwell: 2 years in prison, and an obligation to pay back all that lost tax revenue.
  
  
• Assorted Winslow Staff: Mrs. Knott keeps her teacher's license.

 

[We Just Write]

One of the nice things about getting moved over to a synthetic body was not needing to sleep. Which is why both myself and Melissa were awake at one in the morning, when Taylor showed up at our factory and rang the doorbell. We both came to the door and let the somewhat distressed teenager in.

Melissa asked first,

"Taylor, why are you here?"

As soon as the door closed, Taylor answered.

"I've got a power, and I want you to make it stop!"

I blinked.

"Please elaborate?"

Taylor sat down on one of the sofas in the factory lobby, then explained.

"It doesn't work on any of the stuff you've made for some reason, but it's like I've got computer telepathy. Doesn't matter if I've got a signal or not, I have total control and awareness of anything with integrated circuits in a three block radius."

Melissa tilted her head in confusion,

"That seems like a pretty usefu-"

Taylor interrupted her,

"Do you have any idea how many terabytes of porn are in my radius at any given moment!? Because I do, my power tells me every single detail about those files every millisecond they're in range, and I wish it didn't! Not to mention all the personal information I've accidentally stolen that I really want nothing to do with! MAKE IT STOP!"

What followed was a quick lesson on adjusting her partitions for Taylor, and she immediately slammed the door on that extremely intrusive technopathy ability. Sighing in relief, she flopped onto the floor of the lobby, all splayed out. Then she spoke,

"I'd thought I would keep it a secret and use it to be a hero, you know, airing the bad guys' dirty laundry, deleting their plans, and stuff. But there was just so much… After a couple days I just wanted to throw up. It took all my restraint not to start complaining about it during that meeting with Mrs. Cobbler yesterday."

I nodded as I sat down on the floor next to Taylor.

"Do you want a hug?"

"...yes. Can I stay here for the rest of the night?"

We thought for a moment, then Melissa answered.

"Only if you let us notify Danny where you are, so he doesn't get too worried about you."

"Okay. Please don't tell him about my power."

"We won't."

---

(Melissa)
On Friday, we finally got around to submitting our teleportation system for Tinkertech review. It had been working for a while now, but between the uploading project and everything to do with Taylor's school situation, actually getting it evaluated had fallen by the wayside.

So with the aid of some heavy machinery we helped load the pair of teleporters onto the truck the PRT sent over to collect them. I was actually pretty curious about how it would go, so I volunteered to come along and answer questions.

The teleporters were still being set up when Deputy Director Renick came into the room. Idly he observed,

"Interesting; these teleporters look an awful lot like that robotifying machine of yours."

He must have looked at the photographs that were taken of the QUD, then. I nodded,

"Given that the QUD works using principles derived from these teleporters, the similarity is to be entirely expected. Don't worry, there aren't any corpses left behind."

Mr. Renick raised an eyebrow.

"Ruggedizer, that's not exactly encouraging you know."

I blinked and readjusted my worldview slightly.

"So.. I can try and explain how it works?"

I immediately noticed several very attentive scientists looking my way. Right, no pressure.

"So, the short version is that it combines the energy teleportation that's already been reproduced with 'conventional' quantum teleportation. So both the mass-energy making up the teleportation subject and the quantum information defining them get moved to the receiver unit as soon as the classical carrier data is received. Delayed-choice quantum eraser effects mean that the teleportation simply doesn't happen if it wouldn't be received properly. The receiving chamber needs to be vacuum to avoid problems with air molecules ending up inside whatever's getting teleported."

Renick blinked, then turned to the assembled scientists.

"I think I understood maybe a fifth of that. Was what Ruggedizer said real scientific principles, or was she talking Tinker-babble?"

One of the physicists (her name tag read "Sophie") nodded,

"The broad strokes of what Ruggedizer said make sense; she's clearly done her homework on the matter. Especially the delayed-choice quantum eraser; that's actually an experimentally verified phenomenon, though it's very counterintuitive."

I quipped,

"What about quantum mechanics isn't counterintuitive?"

"Point."

---

(Emmy)

Saturday, Melissa and I were digging through the stash of confidential data again; we'd moved it to a dimensionally shielded vault in a sub-basement, with utterly extreme security measures in place to prevent unauthorized access. Security measures that stood a good chance of vaporizing a fully ramped Lung if necessary. It might seem excessive, but given the increasingly extremely concerning information we were discovering, we weren't taking any chances whatsoever.

We'd barely gotten an hour into our archive delve today when I found an utterly horrifying record: the fate of the previous world these power-granting aliens had visited.

In the virtual space we were using for the delve, Melissa and I could only stare slack-jawed as nearly uncountable people were snuffed out in an instant, the dimensional variants of the planets they had lived on being consumed as fuel to propel the aliens across the void.

"They're… They're monsters."

Melissa pointed out something I'd missed, sixty five additional signatures departing from the destroyed world, all in different directions.

"It's worse. They're fecund monsters. How many similar logs are there?"

I quickly threw together a software bot to sort through matches. After a moment, it returned an answer.

"This particular lineage has destroyed two hundred and seven worlds, counting all dimensional instances of a single inhabited planet as one, and disregarding their planet of origin. On average there are 12.3 diverging offspring per cycle."

We both did some quick math. I spoke first.

"Not accounting for infighting or other sources of Sunderer mortality, there are 4.077*10^225 of these abominations across reality. I suspect the only reason the entire multiverse hasn't been wiped clean of life is limitations of their travel speed."

Melissa shuddered.

"We need to do something about them. I think we might be the only ones who can."

 

[We Just Write]

Having discovered the horrifying truth of what the Worms did, Melissa and I started digging into the how. What we discovered was both concerning and relieving at the same time. Melissa clicked onto it first.

"Emmy, I think the aliens are pretty stupid actually."

I raised a virtual eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Melissa pulled up a list.

"They've got all these exotic capabilities, right? Mind control, scanning, dimensional fuckery, obscene amounts of processing power for predictive modeling. You'd think they'd have actually integrated that information into a coherent understanding of how reality works, right?"

I nodded hesitantly,

"Are you saying they actually don't understand the fundamental basis of their abilities?"

"Yes. Take a look here? See our power's database of designs? It's got loads of blueprints and methods for optimizing different components, but absolutely nothing on how those components work, which means it couldn't extrapolate any of the principles involved."

Something clicked in my mind,

"So that's why our power was so unhelpful with the teleportation research. Despite having working designs for quantum computers, it knows absolutely nothing about the underlying physics, and it couldn't provide us with working designs for other stuff exploiting quantum effects."

Melissa chimed in,

"Which also means that our teleporters aren't Tinkertech. They're real technology that we ourselves actually invented. Which explains a lot about why they're so readily reproducible; instead of a jumble of black boxes slapped together into a vaguely functional whole, the insides of our tech are based on actually understood principles that we put the work into developing."

I thought for a moment, before noting,

"A couple things come to mind; first, this confirms my suspicion that our robot brains are a heck of a lot smarter than organic brains, at least in the science department. Second, we should probably start making our tech as untinkery as possible. I don't want the Worms having their hooks in it."

Melissa thought for a moment,

"Actually, if our power is basically a non-conscious computer system, maybe we can hack it? I'd feel a lot more comfortable having total Admin control over something hooked that deeply into our minds, even if we can partition it off."

---

(Emmy)
Given both the dire implications of the Worms and the assorted villains and S-Class threats who might want to take a swing at us, keeping all our eggs in one basket was straight-up stupid. That's why we were looking into opening a second factory complex in another city.

So while Melissa stayed in Brockton Bay to get some engineering (emphatically not Tinkering) done, I went to Manchester to look into buying some land to build a factory on. I showed up for the appointment at the real estate office at 10 AM sharp, wearing a lovely blue business suit.

The middle-aged redhead I was supposed to meet with happened to be in the lobby at the time, and then it clicked just who I was meeting with.

"Emmy? I haven't seen you since High School."

I blinked,

"Ruby? Yeah, it has been a long time. How's life been?"

"Life's been good; I've got four kids, a loving husband, a collection of extremely affectionate felines, and a well-paying job that respects my work-life balance. Anyway, you're looking into buying land for Reliabuilt, correct?"

"Yep."

The meeting went on for a good two hours, took a break for lunch (which also featured some casual chatter between myself and Ruby), then resumed. By the end of it, I'd arranged to purchase (NOT lease) a square kilometer of tough ground near the highway. It would be an excellent place to set up an industrial park; not arable, decently flat, and with ready access to the interstate. Could probably put in a rail connection at some point too..

---

(Melissa)
Meanwhile, our growing marketing department had determined that there was a reasonable (though still niche) demand for nigh-indestructible personal electronics. I quickly prototyped a smartphone, laptop, and desktop computer with associated peripherals, and handed them off to the marketing department.

The first thing Ruth did when I handed her the prototype smartphone? Throw it at the concrete floor as hard as she could. The phone was totally unharmed, as was the floor.

"I know your stuff is obscenely tough Ruggedizer, but I had to check."

I chuckled,

"I don't mind. In fact, I consider it a vote of confidence."

Andy quickly scooped up the phone off the floor, noting "We'll come up with product names for these pretty soon. I'm quite looking forward to the results of putting them out there."

Next on my list was a meeting with Danny Hebert; it would be nice to have a chat, but this particular time slot was for business, not pleasure. That's why there were also people from the municipal government here, along with the PRT and a few other government agencies.

I stepped into the conference room in my dress armor, nodding to Danny as I did so.

"So, the topic of today's meeting is threefold: getting rid of that massive sunken cargo ship blocking the bay, dredging the channel to make it suitable for heavy maritime traffic again, and building a bridge across the mouth of the harbor to replace the defunct ferry."

The PRT liaison raised an eyebrow.

"I can see how you'd be quite helpful in getting rid of the tanker and dredging the channel, but there's laws about using Tinkertech in infrastructure. So the bridge is off the table."

"What if we here at Reliabuilt simply pay a mundane construction company to do it according to our plans, using the money in the Brockton Bay Revitalization Fund? Fifty million dollars would more than cover the construction costs, even with the overbuilding we're factoring into the design. Because I never only design something to meet the bare minimum requirements."

The PRT liaison nodded,

"That would be allowed, yes, provided appropriate building permits could be secured. That said, I would still recommend getting some mundane civil engineers involved in the planning phase."

Danny asked,

"I know you're getting a lot of money from selling energy teleportation products and a few other things, but fifty million dollars? Really?"

I blinked.

"It's not like we'll be making the full payment up front; we fully expect construction to take a while, which means we can spread the cost out over time."

 

[We Just Write]

Given all the bureaucratic chaos involved, Taylor's first day of school in her new body ended up being a Thursday; more specifically the 21st of January. We'd all agreed to give Taylor a ride over for the occasion, Danny, Melissa and I all coming along.

We were still a few minutes out when Taylor admitted,

"I'm honestly really nervous. Last time I went to school got me killed."

Melissa - currently wearing her dress armor - nodded.

"Arcadia isn't like Winslow; they take bullying seriously there."

"I hope you're right. At least I'm a lot more durable than I was at Winslow…"

Soon enough, Arcadia came into view. Danny pulled us into one of the short-term parking spaces, and we all got out of the car. We were halfway through giving Taylor her hugs, when a flying blonde almost literally dropped into the conversation. Glory Girl, also known as Victoria Dallon.

We all stood stunned for a moment, one of Victoria's eyebrows raised. After a moment, she said,

"I could swear I've seen you all on the news, and recently too."

Taylor looked incredibly uncomfortable, even as Melissa said,

"Yeah, I'm Ruggedizer. I sometimes show up in commercials advertising my products."

Victoria nodded, then looked at Taylor.

"Then that means you must be the lock- oh shit sorry I said anything."

Taylor shuddered,

"Thankfully I don't remember the worst of it, but I still read the autopsy report and looked at the pictures. I don't like thinking about it."

Vicky nodded,

"I understand completely."

Something clicked, and I asked Vicky a question,

"Do you think you could keep people from prodding Taylor too much about that topic? It's still pretty raw, and I don't want her to feel uncomfortable during her first day back at school."

Victoria saluted,

"I can do that, no problem."

---

(Emmy)

Down in the shielded vault where we discussed our stash of forbidden knowledge, I was looking at the scale of the problem laid out ahead of us.

"There's no fucking way we're going to deal with this all on our own. We need help."

Melissa sighed,

"We also can't just go around telling everyone that evil aliens hidden in another dimension are the cause of parahuman powers. Even if people believe us and don't go on a counterproductive witch hunt, we've got records of how the Worms react to that level of security breach."

Melissa was right; patching security holes seemed to be one of the Simurgh's primary roles during prior deployments, and past a certain level they just incinerated that instance of the planet and picked a new version as their primary petri dish.

"I suppose we could make people who won't trigger the security protocols, but where would we put them?"

"An uninhabited Earth, maybe? But that's for a bit longer of a time horizon. In the short term, how are we going to wring enough information out of our power to hijack it without alerting the Worms?"

I thought for a moment.

"Exhaust its list of blueprints via methodical querying? Even aside from getting us a good haul of tech to take a look at, we can probably learn an awful lot about its database structure. That's a decent first step to figuring out an exploit to seize control."

Melissa nodded.

"Shame we can't get Taylor in on this; she's a smart girl, but there's just too much security risk involved."

I sighed in disappointed agreement,

"We need to only share the absolute bare minimum of this information with Taylor. Even with her having partitioned off that power of hers, she's unavoidably more compromised than an unpowered individual because of it. Also I'm pretty sure her power is smarter than ours, or at least a lot more likely to sound the alarms. If and when we get admin control of Taylor's power, we bring her fully into the fold. Not a moment sooner."

Melissa took a moment to think that over, then she made an observation.

"So we're going to be working under absolutely draconian infosec and opsec conditions, then. We can't tell anything to any humans whatsoever, anyone with powers is compromised by default, and we can't afford having our backstage activities connected to our civilian or Rogue identity in any way, shape, or form."

"Yeah that about sums it up. Now let's get to work on mapping out our power's database."

---

(Melissa)

Friday, we were celebrating the launch of our new electronics line - and also the full activation of one of the additional buildings in our Brockton Bay factory complex. Marketing had done an awesome job on the names for the devices, especially the smartphones, which got dubbed the Impervium 1.

It had a fairly hefty price tag as smartphones went, but you got what you paid for. In this case, what you were paying for was a sleek touchscreen phone with a good camera… that could survive being dunked in molten copper and shot with a 12 gauge slug, among all sorts of other abuses. Went through four diamond-tipped drill bits demonstrating the screen's scratch resistance, for example.

After I picked the last few bits of slag off the phone with a chisel, I passed it to the reporter who'd agreed to come take a look at the demonstration model. He pressed the power button, and practically jumped in shock when the phone screen lit up.

"I… I honestly wasn't expecting the phone to still work after all that."

I chuckled,

"Here at Reliabuilt, a lifetime guarantee means something. We want our customers to be secure in the knowledge that anything they buy from us will keep working as long as they need it to."

Things wrapped up quickly after that, the reporter in question sufficiently impressed to buy an Impervium 1 for himself as soon as the cameras were turned off. They left the factory premises shortly thereafter, and I flopped down on the couch next to Emmy.

"Ah, it's nice to have stuff going well."

"That it is Melissa, that it is."

That's when we got a call from Taylor. I answered immediately.

"Emmy, Melissa? Uber and Leet tried to kidnap me on my way to therapy - I'm fine, I jacked their power armor and robots - but if I bring them right to the PRT they'll learn about my power. Can I bring them to the factory?"

Me and my big mouth.

 

[We Just Write]

In theory, getting from Arcadia to my twice-weekly therapy appointments was supposed to be simple. Leave school, get on a bus, get off at a stop, wait a few minutes for a different bus,ride the second bus for a few stops, then walk a quarter mile until I reached the clinic.

Today clearly disagreed with that theory. I'd barely walked a hundred feet from my last bus stop when suddenly a brightly colored gunshot punched through a lamp post right in front of me. I whirled and saw an infamous duo of local villains, wearing generic-looking power armor with a big "N7" logo on the front. They also had that infuriating flying golden camera of theirs hovering around.

Uber and Leet.

...You know what, no. I'm not dealing with this right now. These fucks clearly want something to do with me specifically. I popped open the mental "cork" I'd shoved in my power, and just like that every computer system in a huge radius was mine.

The very first thing I did was to wipe every last bit of footage they'd recorded with that stupid camera drone, before bricking the thing so thoroughly even my power refused to register it as a computer system anymore. Then I seized control of the servos in their powered armor and frog-marched the two of them over to me, even as I bricked their guns too. I also directed the flashlight-headed robot they'd had on overwatch to get down here.

As soon as the two of them were within arms' reach of me (though with their arms thoroughly locked in place by their suits), I hissed at them in a furious whisper.

"What the fuck do you two think you're doing?"

The slimmer of the two (Leet, I guessed) squirmed against the servos, even as he answered.

"Neutralizing a Cerberus-aligned-"

"Drop the act. I bricked your camera, and no-one here cares about your shitty roleplay."

Presumably-Leet shrieked, "YOU WHAT!?"

After a moment, the other one (probably Uber?) spoke up.

"We were going to ransom you. We wanted some of Ruggedizer's money."

He didn't make any excuses, so he must have figured they wouldn't sway me. Still, now I had to figure out what to do about these two; if I killed them I'd be on the hook for murder, they'd definitely say I was a Parahuman if I gave them to the PRT, I couldn't just delete their memories of their encounter with me.

Maybe Emmy or Melissa would have some ideas about what to do with these two?

"Well, if you want to talk to Ruggedizer so much, maybe I can bring you to her?"

Uber's suit strained as he flinched back at the idea.

"Nonono do you have any idea what she does to villains!? I don't want to die!"

"Should have thought of that earlier!"

Now, let's just call up the factory on my internal phone before I start heading over there.

 

[We Just Write]

(Melissa)
I was suited up in my combat armor when Taylor arrived at the factory, Uber and Leet being frog-marched by the powered armor they were wearing.

"Ah. Uber and Leet. Please come in. We need to have a talk."

I swear I could hear the two of them gulp. Once we got inside, I quickly had some security robots confiscate every last bit of Tinkertech these two had on them. Also the mundane knife Uber had. With them subsequently restrained using a whole roll of duct-tape each, I had the both of them taken to a private meeting room for a chat.

I took a good long look at their faces after removing the ski masks they'd both been wearing under their helmets. Then I spoke.

"You two tried to kidnap one of my friends, and I don't take that lightly. I am fully aware that unmasking you breaks the supposed 'unwritten rules', and to be completely honest, I don't care to humor them. What exactly I do with you is your decision, because luckily you have something I want."

Uber paled slightly, while Leet grinned.

"I knew it! You want me as a boyf-"

I smacked him in the face; not hard enough to cause serious injury, but definitely hard enough to shut him up.

"No, I want the location of your laboratory, along with instructions to get past any security systems you might have in place. Every last bit of Tinkertech you've made is forfeit."

Uber asked an actually intelligent question then,

"Why should we tell you that? Leet can only make a given invention once, so there's no way we would ever be able to recover from that."

Well, semi-intelligent.

"You should tell me that because no-one knows where you are, no-one likes you enough to spend serious effort trying to find you if you vanish, and a lot of my more exotic technology requires animal testing. Funnily enough, humans are a species of animal."

Leet managed to get out a whimper, followed by

"If I tell you, you let us go, right?"

I nodded,

"Yes, I will release you after acquiring your backlog of Tinkertech. In Phoenix, Arizona. Five grand cash between you, so you won't need to victimize anyone to stay off the street. I'm not a monster after all."

That got the two of them talking; especially when I made clear that any "omissions" about their lab's security would get the deal canceled.

---

(Emmy)
I was an hour into sorting through the massive collection of Leet's Tinkertech when Melissa got back from Arizona. I greeted her with a hug, and asked

"So how'd the flight go? I hope Uber and Leet were well-behaved."

Melissa sagged,

"They couldn't get up to much trouble, given that they were cocooned in duct tape until I was actively in the process of dropping them off. Though they were still really annoying."

My little sister shuddered at the memory and leaned into my hug,

"Thankfully, the flight back was pretty boring. Still, that's six hours I'm never getting back, and the flying ambulance needs to be refueled."

Melissa looked up.

"Anyway, had any luck taking a look at Leet's kit?"

I groaned,

"Sadly not. There's just so much of it that it's hard to catalog everything. Plus, the bits I have opened up are black-boxed as fuck. I don't mean just a deliberately obfuscated design, I mean that critical components are outright missing, with Leet's power filling in the gaps."

Melissa looked thoughtful for a moment.

"There's just too much for us to do. You need to be my employer publicly, I need to keep our livelihood afloat, and between the two of us we're pulled every which way, leaving barely any time for the ever-growing pile of important stuff that needs doing."

I nodded,

"I think we may need to make some more people sooner rather than later. Either that or try to get volunteers for uploading."

Melissa nodded,

"Either option is risky. Making people could lead to questions about where everyone is coming from, while uploading has the issue of needing to trust the volunteers."

I considered things for a moment.

"We could do duplicates? But that would give the game away immediately if our extra instances get spotted. We shouldn't do fake Case 53s though; they're almost certainly produced by some sort of organization given the matching tattoos, and we don't want to get their attention more than necessary."

Melissa scowled. "Yeah that makes sense. If we're going to upload people, maybe coma patients?"

I thought for a moment, before asking,

"Why don't we just add it to the company health plan as an option? The people working here tend to be really loyal to us after all."

"Going to need to get it approved and signed off on by the PRT then, and that's going to be an absolute nightmare."

I hummed, before offering a third option.

"How about this, we make two or three fake capes as 'corporate security' regardless of how the evaluation of the QUD turns out, and start uploading people on request if it's approved?"

"Probably the best option available to us right now."

---

(Melissa)

I arrived at the PRT's Tinkertech evaluation department just in time to hear "What the fuck, it's reproducible!?" followed by a meow.

This I had to see. I quickly walked around the corner, seeing Sophie holding a fluffy white cat as she explained to some bureaucrat,

"Just what I said, Arthur. Ruggedizer's teleporter technology is reproducible; Snowy here's been teleported by our version six times, and medical examination hasn't revealed any issues at all. We'd still need to do some work to scale it up for moving people though."

"Sorry, it's just… Tinkertech this exotic isn't supposed to- oh, Ruggedizer. Here to learn about the evaluation of your teleportation technology?"

I nodded to Arhtur,

"That would be nice, but it's not why I came here. I want to submit the Quantum Uploading Device for evaluation."

"...Oh."