The earth spun underneath us. I dropped a Card from my hands the instant it stopped, and static surged across the dimensions, blocking the Tracer I was sure was going to be coming.

“Sly old dog,” I complimented him, looking around at the run-down slums and the early evening sky from moving two thousand miles east. We were in the remains of an abandoned lot, various old kinds of junk thrown here and there.

“Hur-hur!” he guffawed, flicking away some ash from his cigar. “Old dawgs know the tricks, Schmot Gurl.” He’d started building up power basically as soon as he could, and he’d handed off the explanation so he could concentrate on doing so without Primus or the Lantern catching on that he was doing something, so he wasn’t messed with. An Interdiction coming up would have shut him down, but The Mountain couldn’t teleport, so how did that matter?

He’d even handed Primus a big clue that it might, probably trying not to grin, and gotten one over on the Big Red Chutzo.

“Well, it wasn’t like they were going to pay you for your time.” I flicked up another Card, waved it over his trench coat, and he watched in appreciation as light stole over it and fixed all the damage to it. A second Card, of Resist Fire, stole over him and promptly cooled him right down to air temperature.

“Damn, that magic shit is convenient,” he observed, tapping his coat in satisfaction. “Now, about a mile down thataway resides an old associate of mine. This kind of business is done face-to-face, not over phones and stuff. So if yer gonna have multiple costumes, you gotta pick one now.”

“The only ones who’ve seen me use my Dynamo set and live are maybe Hawkeye and you, while you’re known to associate with my Dealer get-up. Let’s go with that and see what happens.”

I had already attached Nom De Guerre to my Dealer Mask, effectively making it nigh impossible to match my Dealer identity to anyone else in the minds of anyone who saw it. Effectively, The Dealer was The Dealer, and didn’t even have a civilian identity to be associated against.

Since that was actually pretty close to the truth, all other things considered, the Ritual worked pretty well, because I didn’t really have a whole lot of another identity to be concealed.

Helped with Face and Name of the Mage, and Vampire’s Veil, wiping out solid data of my past and deeds, too.

We’d see how long I could play the game. I had the feeling that people finding out I had the total powerset of Dynamo and The Dealer would freak them out a bit. Although its height wasn’t Up There (yet!), its breadth was pretty impressive.

The Mountain should have a second who complemented him with different abilities, anyways, with minimal overlap. The Dealer certainly fit the bill, and the fact nothing I had was actually based on the Cards would only make it easier to be mysterious about it all. Any Caster would quickly realize I was using magic of some kind, but the Cards as a focus should definitely throw them.

I flicked up my proper Dealer outfit with a snap of my fingers, joining the Mask I was already wearing. All the Mage-centered stuff came down hard, and I was The Dealer, not a Dynamo. That was going to be totally separate.

Mr. Hills dark grey eyes gleamed with appreciation. “Attitude is everything in the world of Powered, and you’ve got it in spades. Muricans don’t really have an appreciation for it yet, but they’re going to soon if what you’re saying is coming is true.”

“They’re already getting chips on their shoulders,” I shrugged as I matched his stride, looking around at the neighborhood, definitely run down and depressed, suspicious and unfriendly eyes watching us go by, but having the common sense not to get in the way of someone that big and broad walking by so easily. “This guy probably has a hand in underground gambling, I’m guessing? I’m not interested in low-end clientele.”

“Yeah, I know. But you still need an introduction. A clean game is worth a lot in this world. If he doesn’t have the common sense to see you’re high-end after you show him what you can do and I vouch for you, we’ll just go on to the casinos directly and bypass him.” Mr. Hill definitely wasn’t concerned about the matter.

“And in the meantime, you find out about jobs you can pull, and excitement to be had?”

He nodded once. “This Rock guy for that foursome interests me. Doesn’t seem to have any mobility or stuff, so we can have some bashing rounds between us. Should be fun.”

“I should probably make him some cupcakes.”

He thought about that, puffing on his cigar slowly. “That would be pretty nice, yeah, if he’s got the same problem.”

“So, on to the locals. Who are the players out here in the East?” I asked.

“Well, not many Powered here, so it’s mostly old-school. Mob families, mostly. Irish, Italian, some Russians, gangs from Mexico and South America trying to push in, some pressure from China and Japan.

“In terms of influence, Max Midas is everywhere, but he generally stays in Boston, never involves himself personally. Not even the old families like messing with Midas. He’s perfectly willing to employ Powered and spend a lot of money to get what he wants. Getting in his way tends to end badly for most people.

“I don’t know all the lesser families, as they change all the time as gangs come and go, fall out of favor or rise up.” He huffed cheerfully. “All of which is gonna change a lot faster once more Powered come on the scene.”

“They’ll be buying tech to try to offset them, but yeah. As always, it’ll come down to ruthlessness and muscle, and who is willing to toss the old ways first.” Sorry, Kingpin, in a Powered world, it’s not gonna be Made Men running things without some severe tech behind them. “You can expect Midas to start pushing once he recruits more Powered, or advances his tech.”

“Not surprising. The man is ruthless about what he wants,” Mr. Hill grunted. “Let me lay out the groundwork I remember, and keep in mind I only know a tiny chunk of the pie. Lots of people in the Jersey and New York areas, and it’s always shifting.”

“Go ahead, sir.”

He nodded and started pontificating to me, starting with the lowlife we were going to meet, a merc recruiter and jobmaker who ran some local streets and part of the docks area here for the Irish Mob. The burgeoning drug trade was the natural money-maker here, but he hit all the soft crimes of porn, the sex trade, other kinds of smuggling, the numbers, and the like, so he had some power and influence, and lived decently as a result, even while the neighborhood rotted around him.

If you wanted to do well on these streets, you went to see Maxie, and maybe he could hook you up and find you a job where morals weren’t high on the requirement list.

-----

Naturally the guy worked out of a topless bar, named The Green Split. It was the best-maintained building in the area, even the parking lot swept and de-weeded, and if the sign was a little garish, the building was actually fairly down-toned and didn’t stand out, other than its signboard.

The lot was starting to get full when we strolled up, me looking very small next to The Mountain, and the burly or overweight guys at the door looked up at The Mountain in shock, all their danger alarms going off at his size.

“I don’t recognize you,” Mr. Hill said flatly, before they could challenge him. “Is Maxie in?”

“Y-yes,” the overweight guy in the red shirt blurted out at that deep bass, before recovering. “Who-who wants to know?” he managed to get out with a few shreds of bravado.

“I’m gonna be polite here. You send a guy to tell him The Mountain is here, just like I talked to him about.” He glowered at the fat man, who hurriedly picked up the phone there and pressed a button, talking into it shortly.

There was a pause, and a guy in a sharp Joisey accent came on. “Send him in, an’ don’ give him no troubles, Billy.”

“Yessir, Maxie!” He waved over one of the topless girls, who gave me a curious once-over and then looked way up at The Mountain.

“Heya, Mr. Hill,” she smiled at him. “Been a while since you walked in!”

“Hey, Doris.” The guard’s face was pretty curious on seeing how Mr. Hill knew one of the girls, but not him. “Just here to see Maxie.”

“Brought a helper?” She arched an eyebrow at me in challenge, before spinning around to offer a look at her rear and long legs, and lead him away.

“Cooks for me,” he replied with that casual air of don’t-ask-more. Doris snickered, I had to hide my own smirk, and I followed after him, eying the place. While it smelled of booze and sweat and perfume, and the music was too loud while the dancers were up there getting the men interested and picking up tips, the place was clean, everything was polished, the upholstery was in good repair, and the floor was relatively new.

-Keeps up the place pretty well for a topless bar,- I Messaged Mr. Hill over the noise.

-Surprisingly clean with the girls, too,- he /replied along the spell. -Some still engage in the trade for extra money, and he gets his cut, but he don’t require it of ‘em. Doesn’t have near the problem retaining ‘em because of that, and if you fuck with the girls, you get a proper beating. They make him money, after all.-

Well, an open-minded and business-oriented lowlife. Wasn’t that special?

---

He was naturally a balding, pudgy guy with a red nose from too much drink, but still alert and sharp enough to rise to meet The Mountain when he walked in.

He kept the place neat, the desk was nice without being overdone, and there was no dust to speak of. It gave off the air of a competent businessman and some discipline, which was probably a subtle thing those who worked with him appreciated.

He shot me an odd glance as I walked in and stood behind Mr. Hill as he took one of the armless chairs there. It creaked alarmingly, and I flicked up a Card, touched it to the chair, and it glowed slightly, taking his weight better than the floor was.

Maxie took the display for the warning it was, and the assessing light in his eyes dimmed quickly.

“Hill, good as yer word. Surprised you got here so quick. Found some psion to teleport you around, or something?” Just because Murica didn’t have them didn’t mean they weren’t immensely interested in psi-powers, and the books on Core techniques and stuff were available, even if people couldn’t get Awakened to their Cores without someone who knew what they were doing.

“Or something,” Hill replied flatly. “Stopping in as a courtesy, mostly. You got work for me? Also, looking for a place to set up a crib, and some local transportation. I don’t want to be causing any earthquakes moving around and stuff.”

“The Mick down at the garage can probably get ya fixed up with something in short order, Hill. There’s a couple rentals I can have ya swing past and look at, if your needs aren’t great, or if you want a house, I can find something.” He flicked a glance at me again. “Who’s the girl?”

“My cook and my card-dealer. Runs honest games of cards. Very honest games,” Hill supplied. “You can call her The Dealer. You want to offer her any jobs, you run them through me. She’s looking to set up tables where a clean game is mandatory, otherwise. You can’t bribe her, threaten her, or blackmail her, an’ if you do, I’ll be unhappy.”