Chapter Twenty-Five - Sleepy Time

‘Here’ wasn’t what Emily was expecting.

She’d developed a mental image of the kind of place a gangster would hang out. Maybe a sleazy bar, or a strip club, or some abandoned gas station. Maybe even a tenement building if they wanted to be subtle about things.

A perfectly ordinary looking office building wasn’t it.

“This is where, uh, Homie is staying?” Emily asked.

The office had a sign behind its front window reading Whitechapel Technical next to some generic stock vector art of a computer. It looked like any of a thousand shops Emily had passed by already.

“Nah,” Melaton said. “Homie and his Try Hards are more of a street gang, if you can even call them that. I think the only reason he hasn’t been nailed yet is that the crimes he does commit are so small that they’re barely worth notice. At least, those that can actually be pinned on him.”

“But he’s a villain?” Emily asked.

Melaton wiggled her hand in a so-so gesture. “He’s a Dealer. It’s not an outright villain morality. If he were, he’d have been in a cell a long time ago, but as it is his morality isn’t outright illegal.”

“There are illegal moralities?” Emily asked.

“Not really. But if you see someone with Criminal floating above their head you don’t just smile and wave.”

“But, but just having the morality doesn’t mean they’ve done anything,” Emily said.

Melaton looked at her.

“I mean... aren’t they still innocent until they’ve, uh, done something?”

The heroine shrugged. “Yeah, probably. But the moment they start displaying any sort of power you know that they’ve done something bad to get it upgraded. It’s a better safe than sorry kind of thing. Plus nailing them gives you a few points. Greys, like Homie, are kind of a middle ground. Dealers can deal in perfectly legal stuff. Rogues too.”

“Oh,” Emily said. “Okay then.” She hoped that the worry in her voice wouldn’t register with Melanie, or if it did, that the older woman would assume that maybe Emily was also in the grey area and that she was worried on account of that.

“So, this place isn’t where we’ll find Homie, but it is where he launders some of his cash. At least, Handshake thinks so. We’re going to go in and ask some people some very pointed questions.”

Emily wanted to know more, but before she could begin to ask, Melanie moved forwards and shoved her way into the office.

Emily and Teddy shared a look for just a moment before following after her and setting off the bells above the door all over again.

The interior was... pretty much like every middle-grade office Emily had ever seen. A big desk at one end with a secretary behind it, some chairs, and a few small coffee tables near the entrance with stacks of Mask Weekly and Inanity Fair and other magazines on it.

“You,” Melaton said as she pointed right at the person behind the desk. “Who’s the boss here?”

The young woman, about Emily’s age, give or take a year, stared back wide-eyed and took a moment to respond. “The, the boss? Mister Sachar?”

“Sure,” Melaton said. “Is he in?”

The secretary nodded furiously. “He’s in his office.”

“With anyone?” she asked, and on getting a head-shake in response she walked right past the desk and towards the back. “Cancel his meetings for the rest of the afternoon then,” she said.

“Um, we’re all very, uh, sorry?” Emily said in a rush.

For a moment she had the choice between staying with the confused secretary and explaining things or continuing on with Melaton. She chose the latter.

The superheroine moved on into the office proper and took one look at the few cubicles around the area before beelining towards a room at the back. Emily kept close, with her head down and her cheeks flaming. She hoped that none of the people working in their little boxes took a moment to look up.

The boss’s room was a tight space, not meant to have three people suddenly walk in on the middle-aged man sitting behind an old computer screen. Mister Sachar was a corpulent fellow, with more than one chin and a gut that showed even when sitting down. It bounced a bit when the man jumped to his feet. “What’s this?” he asked.

Melaton waited until they were all in before closing the door. Then, without so much as pausing, she launched across the desk and tapped the man mid-chest.

Sachar wobbled on the spot, his eyes slowly closing before he started to tip back. It was slow enough that Melaton had time to move around the desk and ease him into his seat.

“Is, is he dead?” Emily asked. She wondered if she had just witnessed a murder, but a rumbly snore from the man put paid to that.

“He’s asleep,” Melaton said. “It’s what my power does.”

Emily swallowed. “Right, right, that’s what you do.” Putting people to sleep with a touch didn’t sound terribly strong, but Melaton had made a career from it.

“I can do more than that,” the heroine said. “I’d keep it hushed up, but things won’t make sense otherwise. So keep it to yourself.”

“Keep what to myself?” Emily asked.

“This,” Melaton said. She pressed a hand to Mister Sachar’s forehead and her eyes rolled back. The woman swayed a little, random muscles across her body twitching minutely. Her lips moved and she even snorted once.

And then the hero snapped out of it and took a long step back.

“What, what happened?” Emily asked.

“I think she went nuts for a bit,” Teddy said.

Melaton rubbed at the side of her head like someone working through a headache, then gestured to the door. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Um, what?” Emily asked.

The question earned her a pointed glare that had her rushing out of the office ahead of an irate Melaton.

They breezed through the entrance, ignoring the secretary’s confused questions and then back out onto the street. Melaton took the lead again, bringing them over to a nearby alley where she pulled out a phone and started tapping away at something.

“Um, Melaton? What happened?” Emily asked.

Melanie didn’t look up. “Powers evolve. Mine felt rather awful when I got it. I can make people sleep. Big whoop. I’m a walking single-use cure for insomnia. It’s not ideal. But then I took out some pretty heavy-hitters in some spars and even a couple of people that went wrong. My power works absolutely if I can make physical contact with someone. No counters. Just a nice snooze. It’s basically the perfect non-lethal takedown power, at least from zero-range.”

“Oh, okay?” Emily asked.

“But then my power got some more utilities. I was hoping for range, but instead, I got dream-related things. I can see people’s dreams if I’m touching them, and I can direct those dreams.”

Emily put two and two together. “You can read minds?”

“I wish. I can see dreams. You remember some of your dreams?”

“A bit?” she said.

“I dream of eating things, and that I’m asleep,” Teddy said.

Melaton snorted. “They’re disjointed and messy and usually nonsensical. Lots of skipping around locations and time isn’t linear sometimes. Normal dreams can loop over the same thing over and over again, or be weird metaphorical nightmare scapes. But I can push and nudge them, and sometimes see what’s what.”

“That’s what you did in there?” Teddy asked. “That guy was snoring lots in no time.”

“Yeah, pretty much. Which now means that I kinda know where he meets with Homie on a regular basis.”

“That’s... good?”

Melaton nodded. “He dreamed of picking up a load of cash, so... I think that’s where he gets the money that he then pays to his company for stuff before paying it back to Homie... probably all nice and legally on the return.”

“And now we’re going to... that place?”

“Yup. Hope you like pizza,” Melaton said.

“Uh. I do?” Emily said.

“Never had any,” Teddy said.

The hero stared at Teddy. “Huh. Well, alright. It’s across town though.”

“How are we going to get there?” Emily asked.

“I’ll call a taxi.”

***