***Chemestro***

“Chemestro, fancy meeting you here.” Metalon said as Chemestro entered the Tinker’s office.

Metalon was a swarthy fellow with a wide frame, and an abysmal 5-34 win-loss ratio who’d gotten out of the super game a long time ago. Nowadays he supplied information, tinker-tech, and acted as a bookie.

He must’ve found out that taking bets on super matchups was more profitable than fighting them.

“It’s not unexpected. I wanted information on Paradox, and you offered it.”

“I…see.” Metalon said. “I suppose I should stick with business.”

“That would be appreciated,” Chemestro said, sitting in front of him. He only had another half hour left on his self-imposed time limit on information gathering.

“Now, about payment, That’ll be ten million dollars or comparable services rendered. I’ve got a lovely matchup you could take part in tomorrow night against a young speedster. A girl. I hear she burns right out of her clothes.”

Metalon waggled his eyebrows for some reason.

“So?” Chemestro asked. Whether a speedster was clothed or not really didn’t have anything to do with their ability to fight.

“So, umm….money then?” Metalon

“Barter, hopefully.” Chemestro said, selecting the ceiling above them and making it permeable to the barrels he’d placed on the roof on the way in. Chemestro caught them by lowering the pressure above them to nil, lowering them gently onto the floor.

The two blue barrels sat there beside him, and Chemestro placed a possessive hand on the barrel.

“This is nitro.”

“Nitroglycerin?”

“Nitro. The drug.”

It was a doping method used by Nexus officials in emergencies and provided excellent combat performance boosts with only minor side-effects. Exhaustion, muscle tearing, and the like.

It was also highly restricted.

“Mind cracking them open?” Metalon aked.

“Not at all,” Chemestro said, taking a glass off of Metalon’s desk and making a pinhole section of the barrel permeable, allowing it to fill the bottom of the glass before he handed it over.

The drug had a pungent, vinegary smell that crawled into the nostril, with an acrid aftertaste.

“Ugh, yeah, that’s nitro,” Metalon said, wafting it under his nose and making a face before setting the glass aside.

“Each barrel is worth eight million. It should more than compensate you for the difficulty of reselling it. No one knows I have these, as I made them myself, and produced the raw ingredients using my powers.”

“Don’t want Nexus checking your bank statements, huh?” Metalon asked.

“It would be more accurate to say I want them to like what they see.” Chemestro shrugged.

“Say no more, that’s fair compensation. I will now tell you what I know about Paradox.” Metalon said, getting started.

“First of all, this is something that very few people know:”

Chemestro leaned forward in his seat unconsciously.

“Paradox is Hexen’s son.”

“I already knew that.” Chemestro said, standing.

“Hold your horses, kid,” Metalon said, holding up his hand. “I’m just covering all the bases so you can’t accuse me of skipping something.”

I don’t have any horses. And what does he mean by covering bases? The basic feel of what he just said felt like he was asking him to wait, because he was going to cover the basics in case there was something in there that Chemestro wasn’t aware of.

Chemestro approved of that sentiment. He sat back down.

“Paradox is one of the few people who have used his real name as his super name, likely because it’s so unusual that few people would bother to think it’s not a pseudonym.”

“Five foot ten, green eyes, black hair, Born to Claudette Zauberer, who was in turn born to Queen Marigold Zauberer of Manita.”

Chemestro gave Metalon a flat stare.

“Your boy’s a prince!” Metalon explained. “Or well…a princess’s son? Is that a duke? Idunno. It doesn’t matter, Manita no longer exists, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

“Anything I can use? Something I couldn’t have learned using Google?” Chemestro said.

“Alright, I’ve saved the best for last. Do not speak about this in polite company because there’s a chance you’ll get killed for it. Paradox’s father is actually…”

Chemestro leaned forward in his seat.

“Darryl Zauberer, formerly Darryl Collins!”

Chemestro stood, turning to leave.

“They met when Darryl was in prison for holding the city hostage as The Mechanaut.”

Chemestro froze.

“That balding beaknose is one of the most dangerous men in the city?”

“I thought that information might provide some context in why your father pitted you against Hexen’s son.”

Mechanaut was one of Neuron’s greatest rivals.

Chemestro’s stomach soured as he realized his conflict with Paradox was a byproduct of his father’s rivalry with another tinker. He’d also been denied critical information. It made him feel small and meaningless. Like a pawn.

He swallowed the feeling back down and buried it where it belonged.

“What else?”

And now for the information that no one else knows:” Metalon said, waggling his fingers dramatically.

“Paradox is not a tinker.” The information broker said.

“What do you mean?”

“The kid is a mage. The effects of each of his rays and weapons are magical in nature. The gadgets on his forearms are so much theater designed to obfuscate his actual abilities.”

“Where does he get the armor then?” Chemestro asked.

“A tinker chained up in his basement, who cares? The point is his attacks are actually spells and can be defended against as such.”

“Interesting.” Chemestro rubbed his chin.

“Now here’s the problem:” Metalon said. “Paradox’s family has a TON of allies in Funkytown, which is incidentally where you’d have the best shot at purchasing high-quality magical protection. There are however a few people capable of selling to you who don’t have any allegiances, and I’ll give you the address of one.”

Metalon pulled out a business card and scribbled on the back before handing it to him.

Chemestro glanced down and back up.

“Dave the Unicorn? Is that a joke?”

“It’s not a joke. Nonhumans are less likely to be beholden to the royal family, especially unicorns, who basically do whatever the hell they want. Dave is particularly independent and greedy one. He’d sell his mother’s horn for the right price.”

Hmm…

***Paradox***

“Ahahahaha!” the self-proclaimed ‘lord of chrome’ cackled from atop a pile of shiny objects. Mirrors, vending machines, metal poles, anything reflective.

“I’m not gonna take Mr. Gerber’s shit anymore!” The youth said, cackling. “I’m the god of all that is shiny! The city will bow before me!” The kid picked up the vending machine and threw it, rocking their cover.

“He upgraded his title,” Perry said, hiding behind a concrete pillar.

“Trigger high,” Wraith said with a shrug.

Trigger high was a fairly self-explanatory concept: You give a buttoned-down young man godlike power and they have no idea what to do with it. They spend a few hours getting whatever they want, or being supernaturally strong and they go crazy.

Similar to lottery winners and incautious spending.

It was actually less common in people who were born into the business, Paradox and Wraith being a case in point.

“Do you think I could have gone on a trigger high rampage?” Perry asked, feeling like he was missing out on some rite of passage that most other adult supers experienced.

“No, your power’s terrible for rampaging.” Heather said, hanging from the ceiling above him. “You literally make things harder to destroy by your very presence.”

“Do you think I should go on a rampage?” Perry asked. “I won’t have teenage indiscretion as an excuse for much longer, and I’ve got some serious rampage FOMO.”

“You know who has a good power for going on a rampage?” Wraith asked.

“Don’t say it.” Perry said, his brow furrowing.

“Chemestro. That boy could tear this mall down in ten seconds flat. And look good doing it.”

“I know you’re just saying that to piss me off,” Perry said, glancing around the corner to find Chromelord was gone, vanished into one of his shiny objects. “I think you do want me to go on a rampage.”

“It’d be funny, if nothing else.” Wraith said.

Chromelord was an irritating combination of limited teleporter and bruiser, which made him hard to pin dow-

“Look out!”

An impact smashed against the back of Perry’s armor, sending him to the ground along with some chips of concrete. Perry regained his feet, seeing Chromelord – terrible name – wielding a concrete pole in his undersized hands.

While this guy had super strength, he didn’t have super-size. This actually made the skinny kid harder to pin down.

“Hey, wait!” Perry shouted, causing Chromelord to pause. The fact that this had any effect showed how new Chromelord was at this.

Target acquired. Mk. 3 displayed moments before Perry unlatched his armor, stepping out of it and waving his arms while Wraith hugged the ceiling, turning into a grey stain directly above Chromelord.

The kid was freaking out as he glanced back at Perry, his bloodshot eyes widening as he saw Perry stepping out of his armor.

“So listen, Chromelord –“

“Where’s the other one?!” Chromelord demanded, waggling the concrete car-stopper like a baseball bat, his Burger Joint uniform ragged, dorky hat askew.

“Wraith?” Perry asked.

Heather sighed and dripped down to stand next to Perry, giving up her element of surprise for his gambit.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Perry asked.

“Make that…weird girl stand far away! And you, get away from your armor!”

“Okay, okay, you’re in charge here.” Perry said, walking away from his armor until Chromelord was facing almost directly away from the armor itself.

Excellent.

Heather, picking up on Perry’s plan, walked far away, making Chromelord turn a bit more to keep her in view, putting his back to the armor.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Chromelord said, relaxing a bit. “I’m in charge here, and you tell that jerk Mr. Gerber that I’m not covering Jeremy’s shift again…”

Perry glanced at Heather and shrugged.

“Sure, man.”

“And–and I want the morning shift!” Chromelord said, pointing the concrete bar at them. “I wake up early every day and staying up all night messes with my sleep schedule. And I want my landlord to fix the windows! Yeah!”

“Okay, you can have all those things, you just need to calm down.” Perry said, giving the armor’s trigger-word: ‘calm down’

FSSSHT!

Chromelord’s eyes widened as a dart fired from the armor’s left forearm struck his back.

He stiffened for a moment, then turned on his heel and began walking toward the exit, where the police lights were flashing.

“Why not use this on Chemestro? You’ve got his blood, right?” Heather asked as they walked beside the hyperventilating Chromelord.

“I mean, I probably could, but non-combat mind-control is-“

“Punishable by five years in tinker-jail, yeah, I gotcha.”

“I mean, also, it’s temporary. I’m not planning on killing him, so after it wore off, I’d be facing a pissed off Chemestro who felt extremely violated. I’d much rather just use it to spy on him.”

“Ah, yeah, fair enough,” Wraith said, nodding before chuckling. “Funny that he’d feel less violated if you spied on him.”

Thus reminded, Perry turned to the kid trapped in his own body and tried to soften the blow.

“And listen, Chromelord, I’m really sorry I had to hit you with the dart that took away your bodily autonomy. I know it’s insanely uncomfortable. Try to keep your breathing under control, you’ve only got half an hour or so until it wears off, then you’ll be you again, ‘kay?” Perry said, throwing an arm over the newly minted super’s shoulder.

Chromelord was incapable of responding, but his hyperventilating did seem to slow down.

Heather and Perry followed him up to the cops, who had their palms resting on their firearms, for all the good it would do them.

“I surrender myself to Nexus custody,” Chromelord said, holding out his wrists. “I just committed several acts of vandalism and assault in and around the john Wayne bodega. I am a super, and my handle is Chromelord. I have super strength, durability, and can teleport through any object with a reflective enough surface to see a clear reflection.”

“I am currently under the control of a type three mind control device, will not attempt to escape and will follow the orders of any police or Nexus personnel, until the compulsion expires in approximately twenty-eight minutes.”

“I was captured by Paradox and Wraith.”

Chromelord proceeded to give Perry and Heather’s bounty deposit ID’s.

“You’re right,” Heather said, nodding appreciatively “That is convenient.”

“I call it the noob hunter,” Perry said, rolling one of the darts back and forth in his finger.

Against any super with decent defenses, it was useless, but for a newly minted, rampaging super, it was an ideal solution.

The blood-contract it enforced was such:

Find and surrender to the nearest police or nexus officer.

Admit to any crimes committed immediately prior to darting.

Identify oneself, then accurately describe their abilities.

Mention the mind control (required by law) along with the time limit. Follow the directions of any officer of the police or Nexus.

Do not try to escape.

And finally, give credit for the capture to Paradox and Wraith.

“After Dazzle got away, I wanted a more sure thing, ya know? Rampaging noobs are worth fifty grand apiece.” Perry said.

Perry could make about ten Mk.3’s after tax and splitting the reward with Wraith. He was about 600 supplies worth behind on his order for Locust.

“How’d it go through his skin if he was super durable?” Heather asked

“I made an algorithm that can estimate a super’s durability over the course of a fight, it adjusts the air pressure in the tube up or down as necessary.”

“It’s also very sharp,” Perry said, inspecting the needle, which was not only insanely sharp, but over forty times stronger than it should’ve been. Perry’s biggest worry was the dart going through people.

Hence the algorithm.

“You know, hospitals actually pay good money for syringes and scalpels that can penetrate bruiser skin.” One of the nearby officers said, drawing their attention to him. The officer got jittery at the armored figure and spandex wearing girl staring at him.

“Ahem, good job, capes.” He said, tipping his hat before overly casually walking away.

Congratulations! You are now a level 4 Garage Tinker.

Paradox Zauberer (Perry Z.)

Class: Garage Tinker

Level 4

HP: 5

Body: 4

Stability: 4

Nerve: 8

Attunement: 18

Free Points:5

XP to next level 2441

“Whoop!” Perry shouted, fist-pumping in full armor. “That capture put me over the limit. Level four, baby!”

Nearly two weeks of working out ‘till exhaustion and one good capture later, and Perry had hit his next level.

“Let’s get back to the lair and see what progress we can make on the stealth hyperweave.”

Fifteen minutes later, they trotted down the staircase leading to Perry’s lair, finding the lights on and the nostalgic smell of burning metal wafting through the air until it hit the rumbling vents in the ceiling.

Hardcase was in the middle of the room, with a huge floodlight shining down on her. The tiny girl was wearing one of Perry’s oversized shirts, which hung nearly down to her knees.

She had goggles and ear protection on and was currently using an angle grinder to clean up a new component for her mech-suit.

Beside her was her mech suit, and a computer and workbench he didn’t recognize. It was a drop in the bucket compared to the size of the room, so it didn’t bother him that much.

“It looks like Hardcase is finally moving in with you.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Perry said with a shrug. “I’d have company that understood basic physics for once.”

“It’s true, you do need someone to teach you a lesson in physics.” Heather said, waving a fist at him.

The noise of the angle grinder cut off suddenly as Hardcase noticed their approach.

“Oh!” Hardcase said as they approached, taking off her hearing protection. “I’m sorry, I just…Paradox has so much more room than my basement and his grinders never need their blades changed, and…

Perry glanced down to the shirt she was wearing.

F.B.I.

FEMALE BODY INSPECTOR

“Really, Perry?” Heather asked, looking at him with mild disgust.

“Sorry about the shirt,” Perry said. “It seemed funny at the time.”

“Oh, OH!” Hardcase’s eyes widened, looking down at the oversized shirt. “I’m sorry, I just got oil all over mine and went through the lockers and found this huge stack of shirts and thought it would be okay if I borrowed one. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She hustled over to the lockers.

“Didn’t I apologize first?” Perry asked.

“Yeah, but that’s not how she heard it.” Heather said.

“It’s fine!” Perry called after her. “Keep your shirt on!” Or not, you know…whatever.