Building an informant network from scratch is a bitch. This is why I chose to simply chose to use already existing ones. Of course, their original owners addressed some of their grievances to me when that fact came to light, but we found a way to make it work. I just wish I could have avoided resorting to Mr. O. That sketchy bastard is even more of a sociopath than me, and that should tell you a lot.

Alison wiped the bead of sweat that was running down her forehead and heaved out a weary sigh as she nailed in the final parts of the large metal bolt she had finished installing on the already quite sturdy door of her newly acquired building.

The precinct was starting to look more like an ugly restoration project than the old gang den it used to be. The goons sent by Mr. O to get rid of the literal tons of junk that littered the place had done an appreciable job, Alison had to admit reluctantly. Most of the tiles had been torn off, the walls were scraped clean of the old crumbling paint, and all the broken furniture had been thrown out. While cleaning up, it was with some amusement that one of the workers had presented Alison with a bunch of odd bags sealed with tape. She had expected it to be cocaine or at least some sort of known drug, but what she found instead was far worse. Some of the packets seemed to contain bits of rotten meat, which she highly suspected full well came from people, but the worst was the last one she dared open, which held an alarmingly large amount of bloody human nails.

Not one fucking regret at offing these lunatics back then. She had thought with a dark scowl after throwing the bags one after the other into a flaming barrel.

In the end, the only thing Alison had chosen to keep as it was in the precinct was the amenities necessary for Yvan and Marie-Anne to live decently. The overall haul was meager, and most of the furniture they kept were rather worn down, but at least it would do until she received everything she had ordered.

Her plans for this place had been a long term project, and Alison had been reluctant to get into it, but the perfect storm of having no immediate enemy to deal with, getting a sizeable paycheck from Mr. O, and having an actual excuse to move out had finally set her in motion. The rebuilding of what Alex called her ‘evil den’ to tease her had started becoming more and more of a necessity. While the young boy knew of her activities relating to him, he knew nothing of the logistics she had to take care of in the background.

For her to achieve a specific set of goals in the near-ish future, Alison had to have a discrete and large place at the ready. The precinct, with its whopping 1000m², had been a godsend in that endeavor, though acquiring it had been quite the headache. The price alone had been quite eye-boggling to Alison, but she rationalized that the nearly half-million euros invested in the place would be a long-term investment. When she had expressed that frustration, Mr. O had reminded her that just being able to buy the site was already an incredible opportunity in and of itself, especially considering its former tenants.

The gang that had invested the abandoned precinct had, knowingly or not, been squatting in a building that still technically belonged to Agnoles mayor’s office. The place and its economy had been ravaged by a Rampant, along with most of the town, more than a decade ago. The damage had been so extensive that they had had to rely on the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes Region’s money—who tended to be rather stingy with that sort of budget—and had struggled to get back to its feet ever since. Mr. O had explained that this specific set of circumstances made acquiring and renovating the place without attracting undue attention a rather arduous task.

After a few days of exploring the legal possibilities, Alison and Mr. O had come up with a plan to buy the place through a shell company called RodentExpress. Most of the talks and acquiring of the precinct had been done through Mr. O and some of his associates, and through careful palm greasing, he made sure that no one of importance learned of the truth.

Alison had discretely voiced her concern of the possibility of the Scanner being “tripped” by the transaction, but Mr. O had dismissed her, stating that nothing of importance had been here, let alone anything linked with the IHI, so they had absolutely no reason to be monitoring it. ‘By the way,’ he had said. ‘I am pretty sure that that ‘Scanner’ is far less potent than you think. They do have some interest and sensitivity regarding some information, but it is far from having the reach of an Orwellian Big Brother.’

Alison’s internal musings slowly dulled as she neared the completion of her current task. With a firm twist of the wrist, Alison finished bolting the peephole cover she had installed into the solid metal doorframe earlier in place. The large screwdriver she had been using disappeared with a faint flash of green light as she heaved a sigh of satisfaction.

Though she didn’t talk much with people about this aspect of her life, everything linked with the use of her summoned tools placed her in some kind of trance during which she was able to phase out everything else around her. That sense of hyperfocus allowed Alison to fully see every detail and aspect linked with her work, which allowed her to work with remarkable efficiency and quality, despite the fact that she had little to no training for the use of most of her tools.

Though the door now looked more like a huge riot shield on hinges than an actual door, Alison bore no illusion that her ‘fortress’ would be by no means impregnable to some of her enemies. After all, the point of that kind of security wasn’t to prevent the most potent attacks but rather to thwart them long enough that she could have time to react adequately.

Once the inspection of her work was finished, Alison decided to reward herself with one of the joints she had found scattered around the room that had been occupied by the gang. Though she didn’t often indulge in drugs as they tended to affect her performances, she wasn’t one to let a perfectly decent doobie go to waste.

All in all, the empty halls and rooms of the former Agnoles Gendarmerie Precinct now looked hostile and bare rather than dirty and grimy, which suited her perfectly for the plans Alison had for it. The point of this place, aside from its usability, was to deter potential external nuisances. The gloomier and uninviting it looked to outsiders, the better. After all, it wasn’t a spider-web she would soon begin building, but a minefield.

“You can’t smoke here,” Yvan called to her from downstairs as she started walking down the steps.

“This is my home,” Alison said dismissively as she kept walking down.

“I’m sorry, and I’m very grateful for finding us a place to stay, but if you really care about Marie-Anne’s well-being, you won’t smoke next to her.”

Alison was about to snap back at the teenager but refrained from doing so. She was no saint, and those kids had seen worst from her, but she had to admit that smoking weed right next to a 13-year-old wasn’t the smartest thing to do. She still tsked out of annoyance and walked back up to find a spot where she could lay down and smoke in peace.

In the end, she chose to lie down in one of the old cells where she and Alex had been locked up when they met. The formerly grimy and creepy rooms had been dusted up and furnished with two beds, and the cell doors had been removed completely. The improvised bedroom looked a bit austere, but it was liveable and would make a perfectly suitable guest room, provided their guest wasn’t too picky. ­­

Which they better not be. Alison thought.

The loud buzzing of Alison’s phone woke her from her afternoon nap with a jolt. Still half-asleep, she reflexively shot out a trowel towards the direction of the sound, but the tool uselessly clattered against the metal bars of the cell wall.

Alison pulled the offending device near her face with a grunt of frustration and looked at the caller I.D. The white letters on the black background indicated that an Unknown Caller was trying to reach her. She quickly tapped the answer button and put the phone to her ear.

“RodentExpress quality vermin removal at your disposal, what may I help with?” she said in a cheery voice.

“Hey Toolbox, this is Ulysses,” Hassan greeted her with a sullen tone.

Alison quickly sat up in her bed and frowned. “Is there something wrong?”

“Just overworked is all. I’ve got some urgent stuff to tell you… In-person,” Hassan said with a weary sigh.

This wasn’t good. During the year during which they had cooperated, Hassan had not once shown any kind of negative emotions. Also, Hassan had not once used the word ‘urgent’ in their conversations. This had to be serious.

“Got it,” Alison said seriously. “Wanna swing by my new place?”

“The rodent thing?” Hassan seemed to hesitate. “Can’t we meet like at a café or something?”

“I’m afraid I have some business I gotta take care of over here,” Alison replied. She didn’t quite feel comfortable leaving Marie-Anne and Yvan by themselves quite yet. “I’ve adopted two puppies, remember?”

“Right,” Hassan said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll be there after work, then.”

Alison had never known what kind of day job Hassan had, but she speculated it was either linked with politics or law enforcement. Maybe even IHI.

People who knew as much as Hassan did tend to either be criminals or held a job with access to confidential information. Or a combination of both.

“Alright,” Alison said after a short pause. “Do I need to… prepare your arrival?”

Hassan took a long sigh and seemed to take a sip of some unknown liquid. “I’m not in danger if that’s what you’re asking,” he paused. “Well, not at the moment. I need to talk to you, is all.”

“Okay, I’ll see you there in a few hours, then,” Alison said in an uncertain tone.

“See you,” Hassan echoed distantly and hung up.

Though their professional relationship had been pretty much perfect during the past year, Hassan had never, ever tried to ask Alison for any personal favors. The man was as secretive as he was self-reliant. The only things Alison knew about his life were his face and his name.

Four hours later, a loud buzz resounded throughout the halls of the empty precinct, startling Alison in the process. The sound had been relayed throughout the old alarm system that Alison had managed to rewire for that purpose in the last few days.

“Piece of shit doorbell,” she grumbled as she stood up from the bed she had been lying in for most of the day.

Alison quickly jumped out of bed as she started jogging towards the front door. As she re-attached her disheveled her with a conjured zip-tie, a thought came to her.

The timing is suspiciously close to the time I told Hassan to keep tabs on people who looked for information about this place. I know Hassan’s usually a careful man, and he’s probably too slippery to get caught by common criminals, but I’ve pissed a lot of the local underworld lately. I won’t be taking any chances. She thought. After a second of hesitation, she quickly summoned a utility knife that she hid in her back pocket for safety.

As she reached the door, Alison took a deep breath and looked through the newly installed peephole. Though she hadn’t seen him in a few months, she immediately recognized Hassan. His face looked tired and gaunt, and his usually tanned skin was so drained of blood it was almost yellow.

Alison carefully opened the door with one hand as she cast a conspicuous glance out the already darkening empty street and tilted her head towards the inside.

Though the thick black leather jacket made him appear bigger, Hassan was just as short as the last time Alison had seen him. Though she wasn’t too interested in such things, Hassan looked really good for a man in his late forties, with broad shoulders, a solid build, and the faint presence of wrinkles from the almost permanent smile he usually wore. On top of that, the man had a surprisingly youthful demeanor and mannerisms, and he usually exuded an air of confidence and cockiness that Alison wagered would make him quite successful with the ladies.

Alison also noticed that the short dark curly hair covering his head was speckled with more white hair than she remembered.

“Good evening, Hassan,” she said as she carefully locked and barred the door.

“Hi Alison,” the man replied in a tired voice.

Hassan had been adamant about using aliases when speaking on the phone, but he and Alison had met enough times in the past that they were now comfortable using their actual names when face to face.

“This place looks even worse than I thought it would,” Hassan said with a grimace as he looked at the decrepit walls of the long hallway.

“Yeah, kind of the point, though,” Alison said casually. “It’s hard, keeping the balance between looking like an abandoned dump while still being livable.”

“I guess…” Hassan said with a complicated expression. “Why, though?”

“I’m not giving you free info. You’re seeing enough at the moment,” Alison said flatly as she led the way towards the back of the precinct.

While Alison had good cause to believe Hassan would never do anything that would cause her harm, she knew that giving him too much information was a dumb idea. He wasn’t gossipy by any means, but any information he could use or sell without exposing her would be a direct equivalent to giving him free money.

Hassan didn’t reply to the comment as he and Alison entered one of the other “guest rooms”. This one had been furnished a little bit better than the one she had been sleeping in. A tall lamp stood between the two Ikea sofa beds that sat in the opposite corners of the small room.

“Something is really bothering you, huh,” she said with a slight frown as she sat down on one of the sofa beds. “The regular Hassan would have had a sly retort at this kind of stuff.”

“Sorry, there’s a lot of stuff on my mind,” Hassan muttered as he sat down. He took a deep breath as if he were about to speak, then closed his mouth and turned to look towards the doorless passageway separating the room and the long corridor they had just crossed.

Alison looked at him, and towards the direction he was looking at before she understood his sudden shyness. “My two fosters won’t bother us. Not that they could talk about what you’ll tell me with anybody, don’t worry,” she said.

Hassan closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ve made a terrible mistake, Alison. And you’re the only one who I can ask for help.”

Alison looked at the informant skeptically. They had never been friends, let alone close, but she knew him enough to know that this was out of the ordinary. “Care to elaborate?” she asked.

“I’ve been working with this woman,” he started. “Work as in my day job, the one I came from right now. And yesterday she’s disappeared. I know she’s not simply ignoring me or ill because I went by her house yesterday. Her daughter thinks she’s still working.”

Alison stared in silence at the man as he rubbed his eyes. This was no time to make a joke.

“I think the mob might have gotten to her,” Hassan continued with a dark expression. “Because of me.”

Though Alison could feel a tinge of empathy for the man, she still tried to figure out whether Hassan’s ties with the mob were because he was part of the criminal underworld or because he was a cop.

Wait, what if he’s a mole? Alison thought. Better think about that later.

“How do you mean ‘because of you’?” Alison asked.

Hassan sucked in his lips and stared at the empty doorway in front of them. “I… You’ve got to understand,” he said with a conflicted expression. “I’ve been doing this job for a while. The information broker thing, I mean. Until today, I’ve never had to talk about my personal life or my day job to any of my clients.”

“Well, you’ve got to tell me a little bit if you want my help,” Alison said patiently.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“Why don’t you start by telling me who this woman is and why the mob would want to kidnap her?” Alison asked.

“Okay,” Hassan sighed. “As you probably guessed by now, I used to be an undercover cop.”

Alison tensed with the implications. She slowly reached behind her back to grab the knife in her pocket in a casual gesture but refrained from taking it out.

Hassan must have noticed her discomfort as he brought up his hand in a calming gesture. “Don’t worry, I’m not a cop anymore, and I’m not exactly working on the right side of the law these days,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I’m a P.I. I spy industrial groups and follow married men and women to expose adultery. And of course, I sell whatever information I get through my former network.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Alison asked suspiciously as she still gripped the utility knife.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to know what all this was about?” Hassan asked back with a raised eyebrow.

I was inquiring about the circumstances that brought you here, not your occupation. Alison thought skeptically. Not that I’m going to complain that you’re giving me free info.

“Right,” Alison conceded as she relaxed her grip on the concealed weapon. “Please continue.”

“So, as a P.I., I’ve been asked to spy on a lot of people,” Hassan spoke with sudden focus. “While my usual activities are comprised of about 85% jealous spouses and 10% industrial espionage, the remaining 5% can range from even duller to really interesting. A few months ago, I started investigating the disappearance of the daughter of an elderly couple. The case was just odd. The woman was in her 50s and had been single her entire life. Her parents tried going to the police, but they apparently stopped investigating after a few weeks. They tried again and again to get answers, but the cops simply wouldn’t help. It was at this point I started thinking there was something off.”

“Is this somehow linked to Martel and De Sevin?” Alison asked with narrowed eyes.

“No. At least, not at this point,” Hassan continued. “On paper, the case hadn’t been dropped because of intimidation or anything of the sort. I checked the files myself, and nothing seemed to be out of order. The issue was that the leads lead absolutely nowhere. The woman seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth without a trace. No forced entry into her home, no footprints, no nothing. Neither her neighbors nor her work colleagues had seen or heard anything of her in the past few days. So, obviously, after a few days of investigation, the cops dropped the case. The issue is, they never agreed to open it up again, even after being shown concrete proof that something was off.”

“How does this connect to your missing friend?” Alison asked with a confused expression.

“I’m getting there,” Hassan replied. “So, that woman had disappeared without a trace, and no one seemed to know how. But that wasn’t the most bizarre part. What personally caught my eye once I got the case was that absolutely no one on the face of the earth seemed to have a motive to kidnap her. She was as boring as can be. She had no friends and just as many enemies. She spent most of her money on personal hobbies and didn’t have any kind of significant financial assets. She wasn’t in debt either. So I kept digging for weeks and weeks until I stumbled upon a potential lead the cops might have missed. Her recent receipts showed suspiciously large amounts of money spent online on clothes for a few weeks prior to her disappearance.”

Where is this even going? Alison furrowed her brows even more but refrained from speaking.

“So I started wondering, how does a woman who’s got the most mundane life you could imagine start frantically buying new clothes while simultaneously stops going outside?” Hassan said.

“She got some kind of mental illness?” Alison guessed.

“Possibly, but not relevant. But I can think of another similar scenario that I’m sure you can figure out,” Hassan said with a faint smirk.

Odd that the first time he’s smiled since we started talking is when he’s talking about some missing lady. Alison thought.

“I don’t know? She started selling them to the mob?” she said.

Hassan shot her an unimpressed look. “I’m going to give you another clue. Only the most recent clothes she bought remained in her closet. And most of them were cheap and disposable.”

“Was she soiling them? Or giving them out to charity?” Alison asked idly, but her eyes soon widened in sudden realization. “Unless…”

“…Unless she couldn’t wear them for too long before they got destroyed,” Hassan finished her sentence.

“You think this woman had some kind of power suddenly triggering?” She said in surprise.

Random super-power discoveries during one’s life were not unheard of. Alex was proof enough of that. But for someone in their fifties to discover their power a such a late age was somewhat rare.

“And you think that her power, whatever it was, caused her disappearance?” Alison asked.

“No. Not directly,” Hassan replied dismissively. “I think I managed to figure out what her power was. At first, I thought it was some kind of destructive ability that originated from her body and destroyed her clothes. But since the bed and the rest of her apartment were pretty much spotless, I thought it might have something to do with her dimensions not fitting the clothes for some reason. Since I couldn’t find any concrete evidence, I asked a friend in the force, officer Vanessa Thévenet, to look into it. And for a few days, we didn’t find anything. Until yesterday.”

“What happened?” Alison asked with rapt attention. Though her morbid curiosity was somewhat disrespectful, a hidden part of her craved the thrill that came with these kinds of mysterious stories.

Hassan seemed to notice her sudden spike in interest but apparently chose to ignore it. “While lurking through her hard drive, we found out that the woman had been talking with a stranger online ever since the first of her ‘symptoms’. She apparently seemed to believe that it was some kind of divine punishment for her sins. And the man promised he could ‘exorcise her’ of her demon. In the end, she ended up giving him the location of her apartment.”

“Wait,” Alison interrupted. “How does all that relate to the mob? And your friend’s disappearance?”

“Well,” Hassan said, his tone going darker. “When we traced the I.P., it seemed to lead to an old building in the city center. Since the station had dropped this case and that opening it right away without any concrete proof would be hard, I asked Vanessa if she could investigate it since I was otherwise occupied. Then she disappeared.”

“Alright, I can see why you’re concerned,” Alison said in a thoughtful tone. “Did the Scanner try to block you?”

“Oddly enough, no,” Hassan said with a sigh. “That’s one of the weird parts. I had no problem spreading the info. I even managed to file a missing person report. Nothing bad happened, and the info seems to circulate without issue. So it’s probably not them.”

“Alright, that’s one less thing to worry about,” Alison said with mild relief. “Did you go where you sent her to investigate?”

“Since Vanessa disappeared, I thought it might be dangerous to immediately follow after her,” Hassan explained.

“Alright, I get it,” Alison conceded. “You think this is a trap. So you’d rather send me.”

“Well… Yes. I debated sending mercs, but I think this calls for some discretion,” Hassan explained. “There is one more thing you should know: a few hours after I called you, I received a message asking for a stupidly high amount of cash in ransom. If Vanessa told them I have the means to pay a ransom, it probably means they’ve been messing with her pretty severely. I’m really worried about her, and you’re one of the only people I know they won’t expect me to send.”

Alison sighed. “Fine, I’ll help you. But you know I’m no saint. I will expect to be paid. I will not put a price on it, but you know my wages.”

“Of course. Thank you,” Hassan said in a relieved voice. “I just want you to get her out. No need to get that first woman if it’s too dangerous.”

“So, before I rush in,” Alison said as she took out her phone to take notes. “How are you so sure it’s the mob? You said they contacted you only after you had called me.”

“Well, first of all, the kidnapping of an Impacted woman so soon after your brush with De Sevin and Martel made me think that it had to do with the same… ecosystem,” Hassan explained. “So I thought that it would probably be one of the three entities we know for a fact were associated with them. I discarded the IHI immediately as we both know this isn’t how they operate, plus they’re smart enough to never dirty their hands directly. Then it was a matter of figuring out whether it was a gang that did it or the mob. Since you kinda wreaked havoc in their internal structure, I think the gangs are a little bit more preoccupied with their stupid power grabs at the moment than kidnapping people in their house. Lastly, the way the kidnapping happened, with no forced entry, no witnesses, or anything, seems to hint at Impacted intervention. Through one of my contacts, I’ve recently learned that the mob acquired a Rampant with some kind of teleporting ability from their ties in Italy. Lastly, when I received the message earlier, it was through a number I’ve only ever given to people I suspect to have ties with the mob.”

Alison whistled. “That’s some real detective shit.” She paused in thought. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand. Why would the mob kidnap random impacted instead of, say, politicians since it seems they can do it with apparent impunity?”

“Beats me,” Hassan shrugged. “Maybe they’re just trying the Impacted’s power out? Anyway, how do you plan on operating?”

“First, I’ll need all the info you have on the place she disappeared. If it is near where I think it is, I might know where she’s currently held up. Plus, it’s a place I’ve wanted to visit for a while. Second, I need to contact my new intern,” Alison replied.

“Isn’t he… a little bit ‘fresh’ for that kind of work?” Hassan asked hesitantly. “From what you told me, the kid’s barely worth the pay you give him.”

“No, he’s alright. What he lacks in competence he makes up for in cunning and wits,” Alison said in earnest. “Plus, he’s a living wild card. The kid is lost half of the time, but since he’s damn near immortal, it makes him super annoying to deal with for enemies.”

“You seem fond of him,” Hassan said with a faintly amused expression.

“Don’t read too much into it. I just need the extra hands,” Alison said with a shrug. “Anyway, gotta start preparing and gearing up and… Oh, and… Do you mind babysitting for me?”

“Uh, sure,” Hassan replied hesitantly.

“Great,” Alison clapped her hands and stood up from the couch. “Come, I’ll introduce you to the kids.”

The moment Alison set foot outside of the room, her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she took it out.

Right on time. She thought with a smirk as she looked at the display. She quickly picked up and lifted the phone to her ear as she gestured Hassan to wait.

“Hello, Steak,” Alison said with a grin. “You wouldn’t believe how perfect your timing is.”

“Alison, I need help,” Alex said in a distressed voice. “My friend’s mom has been kidnapped. I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you start by calling the cops?” Alison asked with a frown. “I’ve got some urgent stuff of my own to deal with at the moment.”

“She is a cop,” Alex replied in that signature panicked tone of his. “Please, Alison, Lisa called her mom’s station, but they said they had no idea where she went. I think she might have been kidnapped. She knew about Serge, the bald guy from De Sevin’s hideout!”

“Don’t fucking say that over the phone, you idiot,” Alison snapped. “Wait, a cop you said? What’s her name?”

Could it be? Alison thought.

“Vanessa. Vanessa Thévenet,” Alex said.

Alison sighed. Of course, it is.