[Countless places]
A boy looked at a selection of new comic books at the newsstand. With TvD's new publishing venture, the selection had suddenly doubled. Unfortunately, he only had enough money for one and was agonizing over which one to buy. He was planning to come back after borrowing a dime from his brother and getting paid for his part time job delivering packages from a local restaurant.
He wasn't the only one with conundrum. Many of his friends were facing a similar problem. The covers of Tanya Comics were significantly better than their competitors. The lines were cleaner, the colors brighter and the art generally better.
"Nnnngh! All the new comics look too good! I didn't have a plan to buy any of these!"
One was Man of Steel and showed a very brawny red and blue clad man lifting a car and driving it into another vehicle. Next to it was a dark-clad man with a red scarf, half-covered in shadows and holding an odd-looking gun. The most impressive one was The Adventures of Argent that showed her and a team of mages holding up the arm of the Lady of the Harbor while a family was hanging onto the torch viewing platform.
His friend came beside him and asked, "Which one you getting, Pinky?"
"I don't know, I don't know!" A sudden thought came to him. "Hey, why don't I buy one and you buy another and then we can read both. You got paid, right?"
The other boy looked embarrassed. "Well, I got paid, but..."
"'But' you say. But what!"
"I already spent all my money on trading cards."
* * *
[Ohio]
A gang of toughs were driving slowly up to a construction site in a large truck. Their leader said briefly, "Okay, you guys know the plan. Grab what you can, ruin what you can't and if you come across anyone... well, accidents happen, right?"
Most of the men had bats and crowbars but a few had short, ugly-looking guns. Perfect for hiding from the police but powerful enough to threaten anyone on the wrong end of the muzzle. They piled out of the truck and were about to spread out when a loud voice came from above. "I'd say I found some rats, but they normally come out at night!"
The men looked up and they saw a flying man in a bright blue and red costume with a shield on his chest with a stylized S. He had a cape fluttering behind him in the breeze and he sported a big smile. "You guys have a choice. The easy way is you give up and save yourself a lot of pain, or you can take the hard way."
"Shit, get him boys!" The thugs with guns pulled them and shot at the flying man. The bullets bounced off and the man didn't even bother to flinch or even pay attention.
"They always take the hard way." He shook his head and flew down. The armed men kept shooting their guns even though they had proven ineffective because, on some level, they trust the firearms more than their eyes.
The costumed man grabbed a gun with each hand and crushed them easily. While he was facing the former gunmen, one thug hit him across the back of his head with a baseball bat which shattered on impact. "You think a chunk of wood would work better than bullets?" He hit all three men once each, sending them flying.
The biggest, and dumbest looking one rushed up with fists clenched. "Pal, if my skin can stop..." Before he could finish, the bruiser took a wild swing at him. The haymaker would have decked any normal man but he was no normal man. The sound of breaking bones was soon followed by a howl of pain. Mercifully, he knocked the man out, silencing his yells.
The last man, the boss, was staring gape-mouthed at the hero. "Okay, I guess you might know a few things, eh?"
"I ain't talking!"
"Oh? Well, that's up to you." The man grabbed the criminal by his jacket front and flew up into the air at speeds normally seen in fast trains or fighter planes.
"W-what, what are you doing? Let me go, let me go!" The thug struggled and found that trying to move the costumed man's arms was like trying to bend an I-beam with his bare hands.
"You asked for it, buddy." He released his hands and the criminal started falling out of the sky.
"Aaaaaaa! Help!"
The other man dropped beside him, perfectly calm. "Feel like talking? You might want to decide quickly."
"I'll talk!"
He was grabbed again, upside down this time. "Alright, punk... who sent you?"
"I-it's Boss Duvall! He hired us!"
"Tell me more."
"I don't know more. He's a big mover in Cleveland. That's all I now!"
"That sounds like the truth. I know you don't have a lot of experience with it, but practice makes perfect, right?" The man took a dropped crowbar and improvised a set of handcuffs to tie him to the bumper of the truck.
As he finished, a youngster who had been bicycling by stared with surprise, finally found his voice. "You, you, you're the Man of Steel!" He grabbed a comic out of his back pocket and looked between it and the real man in front him.
"That's right son." He tousled the boy's hair. "Do me a favor and call the cops on these mooks."
"Yes sir!" He watched as the man flew up into the sky.
He raced to the nearest policeman who followed him in a patrol car to the area. He saw the aftermath of broken weapons, groaning men and impossibly bent metal. "So where did this super guy go?"
The kid looked to the sky, "Up. Up and away."
* * *
[Cleveland]
Mary crouched on a tall building with her camouflage spells active, cloaking her in shadows. She was wearing dark clothes with a cowl across her face. She recalled her last, and hardest, lessons with Tanya.
A light touch and the use of cover can be a hundred times as value as trying to be 'invisible'. Back when you were blasting spells around like the end of the world was coming, you couldn't see anything. Blinded by your own light, you were ignorant of everything around you. A true warrior is always sensitive to what's around them and, at the very peak, feel like they are connected to everything around. She grew quiet for a second. In the times when I felt 'in the zone', it was like nothing could touch me and I knew exactly where everyone was in relationship to me. Regardless, your job is not to be a wild bull. You are a hunter and you should act like one.
She leapt from her perch to another, using only a trace of magic to let her move a bit farther than her muscles could take her. Since being relieved of the dybbuk she didn't have the power she once used. More accurately, she didn't have ACCESS to the power reserves that were still in her body. But for even this short hop, it would have been easy to fly with her current skills but the point was to NOT use her magic carelessly or at all if not necessary.
"Ugh. This is harder than trying to tie shoelaces with a forklift!" The analogy sounded wrong to her and she resolved to fix it later. She felt the enormous reserves of energy but only the tiniest bit was used here and there, each little bit carefully measure and doled out like a miser being forced to tip a waiter.
Finally reaching her target, she held onto the eave of the tenth-story penthouse apartment while crouching on the roof, her head almost over the edge. She smoothed her breathing and focused on her hearing, trying to sense if anyone was inside. Her mystic senses were on alert as well, and likewise detecting nothing. Only then did let out the tiniest scanning pulse to check for active magical sources. She had practiced this over and over again so that even a very cautious operator would think it was just a blip on the magic detectors.
She dropped onto the balcony lightly, a shadow among shadows given the moon was on the far side of the building. There was a dim light in the room from the remains of a fire not yet banked. On the plus side, that meant she could see even in the dim light. On the minus, that meant potential interference.
Speed is best now! She found the balcony doors unlocked and she put a drop of oil on each hinge before opening them just enough to enter and then she closed it behind her. Another tiny pulse, a different one this time, and she found what she was looking for.
Behind a portrait? Really? Isn't that the most cliché location ever? She pulled the painting of a rather smug looking man off the wall and put it to one side and saw a safe behind it. She grinned. With more skill, she could have used another scan to deduce the combination. Failing that, she had an exceedingly thing blade that could channel mana and easily slice open the safe. Let me try what Tanya told me first. With quick hands, she scanned the room, lifting up things, looking under the writing mat.
Ugh. I wonder if he's stupid enough to... She went to the portrait and looked behind it and, in light pencil, saw a series of three numbers. These people really are stupid! A few quick twists of the dial later, the safe was open. Inside were several boxes, stacks of cash, and numerous documents. Rather than sorting through it all, she just dumped it all into a satchel. Once it was empty, she was about to close the safe but suddenly remembered the most important thing.
Can't forget that! She put a card in the safe, closed it, and then carefully returned the portrait in place (but not before erasing the combination from the back). Reversing her path, she closed and locked everything as if she had never been there.
* * *
[Cleveland]
Douglas Duvall, sometimes called Boss Duvall, was feeling pretty good. As usual, he did most of his business at home and, also as usual, he had gotten up late to do it. A third-generation socialite, he was two generations from anyone in his family who actually MADE any money but that didn't bother him. With connections, and money, he got his way and this was enough.
He sat at his big desk with an even bigger portrait of himself behind him. "Okay, you mooks, tell me everything is going our way."
One guy who looked like a gorilla in an ill-fitting suit said, "Seems like it Boss. We got some fellas to slow down the new rail. They got a big boy that scared off some and cracked a few heads but we have a lot more cheap chumps than they have workers."
Next to him was a thin man with glasses that looked like he actually knew how to wear a suit. "Our 'contributions' have gotten people to vote properly. We've held them up from getting the permits, arrested some people for various things, and even managed to get the local bank to stop their payroll.
"Now that's why I call good news! Now that we got that girl's tracks stopped dead, our trains can keep our monopoly. She stopped dead in her tracks, right? Ha ha ha ha ha!" He laughed at his own joke and the others laughed as well having learned the fate of those who didn't find their boss's jokes funny.
"Enough fun and games. We have a some blackmail to use and some people to squash. Clear out and I'll call you back when it's time."
His subordinates left the room and Duvall locked it behind them. He rubbed his hands together. "This is my favorite part! I love how much they beg when you have them by the balls!" He carefully pulled down his portrait and tried to open the safe. "Shit... what's that combo again?" He tried twice more and then finally looked behind the portrait for the code. "Shit shit! It's all smudged!"
One more try and he finally called his men back in. Grousing, he said tersely, "Open it!"
The gorilla guy just looked confused but the other man just sighed and unlocked the safe with a few precise motions. Duvall shooed him away so that he could open it. The safe swung open and he staggered backward as the safe was completely empty! "What the hell? Who took my stuff?"
The precise man walked back to the safe. "I believe this is a clue, Boss." He show the man a simple card.
In plain black print on the white cardstock were some simple words, "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"
Less than 12 hours later, he was whining and begging to Degurechaff on the phone, desperate that Tanya not reveal his secrets.
Less than 24 hours later, many plans had been withdrawn at a speed that would make one wonder if it wasn't powered by magic itself!
Chapter 112 - Crossroads
[Chicago]
One of the conveniences of being a mage is that 'travel' mostly was only an issue when talking about distances of a hundred miles or more. Minor matters like vehicles and luggage were mostly a matter of taste and not necessity. High above Chicago, higher than the detectors could sense, three mages were floating in the most private place to hold a meeting.
Tanya was happy with what she saw. Their costumes were perfect for their roles: Mary's dark clothing hid much of her figure, hiding even her gender unless one could get a close look in a well-lit situation. The scarf pulled across her face hid much of the rest along with the brim of her wide hat.
John, on the other hand, was dressed more colorfully. The bright primary hues of the skintight costume were a somewhat shocking contrast. It was made primarily of a layered anodized chainmail that did nothing to hide his truly heroic proportions. Unlike the traditional outfit, much of his face was covered except for his mouth. Of course, a flowing cape completed the image.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Miss Tanya, do I really have to wear this?"
"Naturally! I realize that I haven't explained fully how this works, but the image is just as important as the actions." She dropped into lecture mode and both of the others had a brief vision of her on a lectern teaching a classroom of students. "I've already told you that we are trying to improve the general perception of mages and that requires boldness! The constant repetition of these ideas will turn it from a fiction to a reality."
"That hardly applies to me, though?" Mary said.
"You think so? These..." Crap, there's no word for memes yet. "...concepts will sink into the public consciousness. You are the Dark Knight, an avenger that strikes at those who think they are invulnerable to law or punishment. Even if no one ever sees you, they will know about you, think about you. And then when they find your little messages, well, those concepts will rush back and affect them instantly." She smirked, "It's like the idea is living in their head. A big, colorful guy like John Henry here will trigger the 'hero' thought and people will react to that. A criminal will hear a voice coming out of the darkness behind them and the 'vigilante' idea will cause them to panic or freeze."
Sioux frowned, "That sounds unpleasantly like the dybbuk."
"That creature was... similar. But ideas are only alive when they are inside of someone." She tapped her head. "There are bad ideas, evil ideas that are in people's heads but there are also good ones. People will always have something in there, so the trick is to make sure their heads are full of the right stuff." Tanya smirked, "Although perhaps I'm being generous when I said that people always have something in there!"
The big man nodded slowly. "So those comics are to give people these ideas?"
"Comics... and other ways. You'll keep doing what you're doing, but beyond just protecting TvD properties, you are free to stop any crime you see... in fact, please do! If there's anything that requires money, I can provide that. The purpose of the Man of Steel is not just to oppose evil. You will inspire people to be their best selves. Likewise, Shadow can wreak havoc on the less obvious thugs like politicians and businessmen along with the usual riff-raff."
"Just that? I mean, sure, if people need help, I'm happy to help..."
Tanya smiled brilliantly. "Don't worry, I'll handle the rest!"
* * *
[Various places]
The newsstand operator grabbed a stack of string-bound papers to put out on his stand. Other bundles were piled to the side, so they wouldn't block the sidewalk. Local newsboys for area would come by to restock their supply with the understanding that they wouldn't stay too close to his stand when they hawked their wares.
The newsies were gathering around as he cut the string. "Mornin' boys! Got a fun one for you today!" There were several types of newspapers but a new one had been gaining popularity. He put out the Anglish edition of Die Wahrheit. The international news section was the same but half of it was focused on local stories, including the covers.
"Whatchagot, pops?" The kids looked at the colorful cover, so different from the normal papers. On this cover was a beautifully framed shot of a costumed John Henry flying while carrying two thugs, one in each hand. The frightened look on the men's faces was captured perfectly. "Wow, this is amazing! It's even better than the comics!"
Another boy nodded. "Who knew that it was a real person, right?"
"Ya think?"
"You know how hard it would be to fake that? Besides, my cousin saw him fly in and rescue such kids from a burning building."
"No way!"
"How many big guys wearing costumes like that you think are flying around?"
They talked while they were loading their bags, knowing the newsstand owner didn't want them getting in the way. To their surprise, he interjected in their conversation. "I know for sure he's real, boys."
"How's that?"
He just pointed up and the sight of the Man of Steel flying by shocked the newsies to their cores!
He seemed to notice their look and gave them a wave as he continued to fly by to the amazement of the early-morning crowds.
* * *
[Chicago – Embassy – radio station]
"In recent news, the Man of Steel has been spotted at the site of the attempted robbery of the International Bank and Trust on Fifth street. And, folks, by spotted, I mean that he handled the situation as soon as he arrived. According to eyewitnesses, there was quite a bit of gunplay about which they said, and I quote, 'The bullets just bounced off of him!'."
The announcer turned the page and continued. "Bank officials announced that there would be a reward but the costumed hero merely told them, 'Even a rich city has people in need, please use the reward to help them.' before he flew off.
"The Chief of Police, when asked about the situation said that this clearly fell under the concept of a citizen's arrest and that the intervention of civic-minded citizens was welcome. He added, however, 'This only applies if you can handle yourself... being able to deflect bullets is a plus!'"
"In other news, the midwestern rainfall issue has been declared to be a drought by the national weather bureau. There was also a sharp downturn in some stock prices including the New Haven railway which continues a series of losses for the past four quarters..."
* * *
Professur Heidl's graduate students, like graduate students everywhere, were doing all the work that the professur didn't want to do. In this case, however, it was more than just getting his dirty clothes to the laundress or other menial chores.
All around the room were newspapers, reports, letters and other paperwork. It was truly a staggering amount of information and there really wasn't a good way to organize it to make the most sense of it all.
Two students were sleeping under long tables having given up going back to the dormitory, instead using the time it would have taken to go there and back to get that much more sleep. The reason they were under the tables is that every available other surface (including couches and padded chairs) were stacked with papers, papers and more papers.
Adalbert woke up from a combination of the hard floor and the grey early-morning light. He was covered by his jacket and his pillow was the softest newspapers he could dig up. Yawning and groaning, he got up, patting the dust off of his clothes. He saw his comrade still asleep in the corner and poked him rudely with the toe of his shoe. "Volker! Wake up... we still have to get through a few months of financial records for Waldstatte before the morning meeting."
"Uuuugh." He rubbed his eyes and said blearily, "I can't do this anymore." He looked around the endless piles of work. With despair in his voice, he said, "What say we just burn it all down?"
Adalbert laughed bleakly, "They would just make us do it all over again."
"What makes you think I'd leave the room?" He sighed and said, "What first?"
A voice from the doorway got their attention. "I was hoping that this work wouldn't inspire thought of suicide. They said Archimedes was killed while working on math but in his case, it was a Roman soldier and not self immolation!"
"Oh, Professur!" The students instinctively, and futilely, tried to neaten their clothes.
"Don't worry about your appearance, gentlemen. Instead, let's get some breakfast."
"But, what about the meeting?"
"I've called it off. Food and then sleep!"
Volker thought, Does it have to be in that order?, but didn't dare say this out loud.
The three gathered at a local eatery that catered to students who were up early (or late). Plates of Pfannkuchen, Weisswurst, Butterbrezelen and either beer or coffee (depending on tastes) filled the table. Like most young men, the students were digging in while their teacher ate more calmly.
"So, why did you cancel the meeting? It can't be because we're done, surely not!"
"No, no, of course not. When does the search for knowledge ever end? But in this case, just the initial analysis of what we already have is sufficient to start drawing conclusions." The noisy restaurant hid what he was saying and, even in a university town, most people wouldn't understand much of it. "TvD has, effectively, an independent economy now. None of our models or calculations make sense if we treat them as part of Germania but once we extracted what we could and put it independently, everything fell into place." He chuckled and added a dollop of Kaffeesahne as he refilled his coffee. "It was rather like turning on a light suddenly after stumbling in the dark though it did take significant recalculations."
"That's bold, sir, how sure are you of this?"
"As certain as one can be without a divine revelation! I'm ashamed that I thought of this months ago when speaking with Professur Wagner but lacked the intellectual courage to follow it through until now." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "The idea sounded preposterous even to me, the one who thought of it! We still have issues with measuring its full scope and range which means you two will have to go back to work..." He saw the looks on their faces. "...tomorrow."
Adalbert sipped his beer and finally asked. "I know it's early, and the data is incomplete, but where would you rank them by GDP now?"
"You asked the question everyone wants to know the answer to! Honestly, it's almost impossible to tell. As a singular enterprise, with so much happening perfectly internally, and yet having so many divisions... it's a nightmare to untangle. Especially their forays into the Unified States which if far and away the world's economic leader now." He mulled the question, his nimble mind going over the numbers and making extrapolations, but cautious and wild, to come up with a guess. "I would put them eighth, roughly. In a dead heat with Canadia, Ildoa and Ispagna."
"Mein Gott! That's remarkable!"
"Of course, it's not a truly fair comparison. They don't have the same issues and expenses of a true nation, but one could always argue that they pay for these things to their 'host' countries in taxes and it works out much the same."
Volker chuckled. "They may not be building infrastructure, but there's one responsibility of government where that they've fully fleshed out."
"Oh?"
He smirked, "Their military forces, ha ha ha ha!"
* * *
Tanya and Oskar, decidedly NOT dressed like they were going for a day at the consulate, went into the jazz club. They were just trendy enough to fit in but not so trendy as to stand out... at least not too much. It was rather difficult for a very attractive blonde woman and a tall, handsome man not to draw SOME attention, but they did their best.
The doorman/bouncer nodded to Oskar, obviously recognizing the Germanian, as they approached and let them in the disguised doorway. A walk down a dimly-lit flight of stairs led to a wide room bustling with sound that was inaudible from the street level.
Her eyes sparkled at the living history in front of her that didn't involve munitions or imminent peril to her well-being. A genuine speakeasy! Not that I care about what people are drinking, I'm no hypocrite, but it's amazing what lengths people will go to to get a drink. What she saw matched her knowledge of the places from her old world. It was a surprisingly eclectic and multi-racial crowd. Whites and blacks mingled freely with a smattering of other races, even a couple she judged to be Qinese and even an Irishman!
Unlike the lower-class dives, this was an upscale place, with elegantly dressed patrons, chandeliers and wait staff that had suits that were just a step down from being tuxedos or evening gowns. The brightest areas were the stage for performers and right around the bar. The rest of the room was moderately lit, resembling a nightclub in ambiance.
"So, you come here often, then?" Tanya asked with a smirk as they were led to a reserved table.
He held out her chair and gracefully pushed it in. It was only through quick wits, and quicker reflexes, that she reacted appropriately. "Not exceedingly so. My tastes aren't as diverse as yours – nor my talents! – but I thought I'd do some work as well as get some entertainment. Our 'competitors' are doing a fine business despite the fact drinking at the consulate is quite legal."
"There's no need for us to dominate everything... just what we really need to! Besides, this establishment serves needs other than just drink. Something we won't get involved in, of course."
The waitress came over, "What would you like to drink this evening? Would you like to see the wine list?" The woman had a keen eye and could tell these two were well-heeled.
Tanya took the lead, "Not tonight." Before the woman could be disappointed, she added. "We're just here for the show but we will tip you generously if just come by the table once in awhile to keep our beverages topped off and not try to upsell any alcohol. I'll have a Pepsi, though." She gave the woman a twenty (which the waitress managed to make vanish without the use of magic) and glanced at Oskar.
"Seltzer water, twist of lime, no ice."
"Coming right up!" The woman sashayed away, marveling at her good luck and hoping that the $20 bill might multiply several times before the evening was done!
"So what made you choose this place? The music or the scenery," she glanced at the waitresses.
"The music!" he said abruptly. "Ahem. The best jazz players in Chicago work in places like these. They have money and can afford the best talents. There are other clubs, with other styles, but I've found this one to be the most consistent."
"I'm looking forward to it!" Their drinks appeared as if by magic and the waitress said, "You need anything else, just ask for Sheila." She glanced at the two and emphasized, "Anything else." before leaving.
Tanya's eyes were raised. "Are you sure..."
"Quite! Besides it would be poor form to abandon my date after arriving, would it not?"
"Your..." Before she could finish, the lights lowered slightly around the room but the ones on the stage brightened.
The emcee, a woman in a heavily-sequined evening gown, spoke into the microphone with a sultry voice. "We have one of our favorites for your tonight... please welcome back Mr. Robert Johnson!"
There was a round of applause, neither tepid nor overwhelming as a young black man with a neat suit and an obviously well-used guitar took the lone seat set out for him in front of the mic. "Pleasure to be here, y'all, but I know you didn't come to hear me talk so I'll get to it!" He waited a few seconds for the laughter to fade before he started playing.
Tanya's eyes sparkled... This is it!
Chapter 113 - Check please!
[Chicago]
Charles's voice was good but not spectacular but his guitar playing was inspired. Tanya half-closed her eyes in pleasure as she let performance wash over her. Oh, he's even better than I thought! Much better than those crappy old recordings. He really has talent and his improvisational skills are superb. That's exactly what I need now!
Oskar glanced at her, pleased that he had chosen well. When the musician took a break to have a quick beer and a smoke he said, "Enjoying yourself?"
"He's a real talent... I want him! Honestly, he's wasted playing here and he needs a wider stage, much wider."
Oskar felt an unpleasant pang as she said this and was puzzled by it. It occurred when she indicated she wanted to hire that man so forcefully. What's this? Surely not, not jealousy? Her age only is... not really that far away? Somewhere in his head, he still imagined her according to her wartime image: a wunderkinder of war and business, an eternal child that kept producing miracles. But she isn't anymore, is she? She's very nearly an adult... not that that has matter much amongst the nobility. Most of us had our future spouses semi-selected since we've been teens.
She continued, not noticing that he was distracted by his thoughts. "I'm slightly jealous of their business here, actually." She sighed and shook her head. "But the downside of the 'other' activities that draw too much risk and the wrong crowd. No doubt stronger drugs, prostitution, and maybe even gambling helps their bottom line. No, we don't need those legal risks or open ourselves to that element."
He looked at her scheming figure with fresh eyes. She really is quite attractive, both physically and mentally. I'm never bored around her, her intellect is equal or superior to the adults I normally deal with, and she has a wicked wit. Moreover, she's a noble, though barely, but has absolutely no respect for titles or wealth beyond the practical. He harumphed inside his head. Fawning sycophants and lickspittles on one side and titanic egos on the other. Oskar, can you really do better?
The waitress refreshed their drinks and Tanya noted that there was a folded slip of paper under her glass. Hmmm, a phone number? A surreptitious glance showed a similar note under Oskar's drink. So, she's amoral, ambitious and... flexible? She would make a good politician if she's also smart.
Her assistant ambassador didn't miss the notes, either. "This is a bit interesting," he said in Germanian for a bit more privacy.
"Isn't it?" she responded similarly. "It's rather impressive. She's a waitress here but probably makes good money with her 'extra curricular' activities. Phone lines are still rather expensive so she's willing to invest in her future."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're not offended?"
Tanya looked surprised. "Offended? She just doing what she can to get by, perhaps even to become prosperous. There are so many who have no choice in what they do to survive so, no, I cannot look down on her."
"That's very open minded of you, Tanya."
"I'm not saying that I would ever take such a path. No, I rather die than become a prostitute but neither do I think less of her for that." She laughed self-deprecatingly. "Perhaps she would be equally horrified if she had to do what I've done to survive!"
Oskar was startled and then laughed as well. "Ah, it's so easy to judge as if one were superior and it's indeed jarring to be on the other side." I can only imagine that would cool the ardor of other suitors but it wouldn't bother most military men. But since we're looking at things from the other side, what am -I- bringing to the table? This was even more unsettling but he stuck to it. I'm arguably handsome, tall and well-built. I have a noble family, money, and a good reputation. While my military record isn't as storied as hers, it's still quite respectable. The question is: would any of this be attractive to our little Colonel? What can I provide that she doesn't already have?
"You've been pretty quiet, Oskar. Lost in thought?" She glanced between the paper in hand and back at the man. "Surely you're not considering calling her. Wait, did you t-think -I- was going to...?!"
"No! No no! I was just wondering what your ambitions are? You've survived the war and your business ventures are doing quite well. Where do you envision yourself in the future?"
"Oh! Well. I've always envisioned myself – after a successful career – retired with a comfortable house by the ocean. Someplace warm with nice beaches, specifically." She made a dismissive wave. "I've had enough of snow piled higher than my head and other miserable weather!"
"It will still rain wherever you may go."
"Ha! I'll take my chances. Nothing like high walls made of money to buy a nice place, right? Add enough land so that your only neighbors are the ones you invite to live near you and that's as close to paradise as I can imagine."
Wealth and land... not a high position, eh? That seems more like a classic noble than more 'modern' forms of power like fame which she has in spades already. So the only thing she lacks is social power and influence. Despite being 'just' an ex-prince, I can provide that at least. I guess people would call us a good match, then? "Ah, so you are going to be a country lady? Well, there are worse goals, no doubt!"
Tanya was about to argue the point but the next set of music was starting and she was unwilling to miss a second of it.
If anything, the second set was better than the first. Robert hit his stride and soon had the audience enraptured again. One patron was an exception, however, and was loudly and drunkenly talking over the music. His date tried to shush him to no avail.
"Why're we listening all this darkie music?! Turn on the damned lights and play something other than this shit!"
Soon enough, he had plenty of negative attention from all the patrons but refused to be quieted. To his credit, Johnson just ignored him and continued playing but that just seemed to incense the drunk man.
Suddenly, he just dropped to the floor as if he had been bludgeoned. The wait staff helped carry him out trailed by his red-faced date who was complaining at the unconscious man. "I just want to have a good time! Why do you have to be thick as a damn tree, huh?"
Oskar glanced at Tanya and just saw her nodding in a satisfied way. While he couldn't prove she had done something, her expression convinced him that not only was she responsible, but that she wasn't even the slightest bit guilty about magically bludgeoning a stranger.
Honestly, he didn't blame her... and the rest of the crowd seemed equally pleased by the results!
Before long, Robert took a another sip from an unlabeled bottle of beer and said, "You jes' can't keep all my fans from making noise, huh?"
The general laughter led into his next song. His fingers danced on the strings as his powerful performance claimed the attention of all around.
Early this mornin', when you knocked upon my door
Early this mornin', ooh, when you knocked upon my door
And I said, "Hello, Satan, I believe it's time to go"
Tanya's foot tapped as she sank into another song. Her conviction that this was the right choice growing stronger by the second. Anyone who can make music like this can bring my guitar to life. Bring in some talented newcomers and you have the next wave ready to literally rock and roll!
You may bury my body, ooh, down by the highway side
So my old evil spirit, can catch a Greyhound bus and ride!
* * *
[Australia]
The local 'clever person' was meeting his brother in a bar far enough outside of Sydney that they wouldn't be hassled for being too obviously native.
Or at least not as much.
Technically, they were half brothers and Jimmy, as he was known in town, looked very different from his brother. They shared a half-abo mother and different fathers so their appearances were very different. Gurumarra was the very image of an aboriginal Australian while Jimmy could easily pass for white. "'Marra, it's been too long. I've come every month as usual but it's been nearly two years, eh?"
"I had a truly lengthy walk this time, Jiemba. There are things afoot." He took a long swallow of the warm beer.
"Other than you, I gather!" He laughed, also drinking heartily. "Okay, tell me everything."
He finished the beer and called for another before starting. "You spend too much time away from the lands, so there's much to discuss."
Jimmy waved that off. "You'll have to explain it like I was a greenhorn, I know. Do your best, ha ha!"
"Hrm... well. The Great Ones, the Higher Ones, for all their abilities use only the tiniest fraction their powers. That's because there's no difference between their 'actions' and their own 'being'." He nodded, satisfied for having explained a very difficult concept so easily.
"Eh. I may have been too long in town, that sounds nonsensical."
Or maybe not.
"Ahhhh. Have another and let me think!"
"Now THAT I'll definitely drink to!" The two finished their beers which were quickly replaced.
After having gathered his thoughts, he said, "If they want to touch the world, they have to rip off part of their own selves. Small touch, small part."
"Big touch, big part, huh? Must be painful. It sounds like the story of the clay man that could build anything but he had to use pieces of his own body."
"Who are we to question their method of existence? Be that as it may! This is why they work through proxies, rather than directly." He dug into the bangers and mash that had been dropped on the table along with more beer. "I don't know how they view it but that's as close as I can describe it to you town folk."
"Hey! Sure you've always been a bit smarter, 'Marra, but I have my skills, right?"
"I'd be the last to say otherwise! So now I can tell you what I found." He lowered his voice. "I felt a shift, like the world had stopped moving for a half step before starting up again."
"So is that a small touch or a big touch, then?"
Gurumarra drained his beer. "When you're our size by comparison, what's the difference?"
"What would make one of 'them' do something like this?"
"How would I know? But something big." He sighed. "I've felt tiny tremors during the Great War and afterward but this dwarfs anything like that."
They were silent for a while and then said to each other simultaneously. "We need to talk to Mum!"
* * *
[Germania – Berun]
Visha's secretary saw how her boss was dressed and said, "Oooooh, another date with Ignatz, is it?" Donna smirked and tossed her head causing her curly blonde hair to bounce. The color was natural but the curls carefully maintained with much effort.
She said primly, "Please, it's our FIRST date. Lunch meetings to discuss business don't count."
The woman said knowingly, "Ohhhhhh... riiiiiiiiight. Those don't count at alllllll, do they?" She smirked, "But that all depends on who is keeping count, doesn't it? First date for you but what does Herr Zollinger think?"
"Nonsense! We even split the checks... you can see them on the expense reports."
She covered the bottom half of her face with documents in a classic coquettish display while batting her eyes. "Oh, so tonight's soiree won't be on this month's budget, then?"
Visha rolled her eyes. "Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Certainly! I need to finish up here and go home to my huuuuuusband. One of us is married all." She called out over her shoulder as she walked out, "For now, that is! Ta!"
Truthfully, the Vice-President was dressed up but it was rather a requirement for the restaurant they were going to. She had found in Ignatz a fellow food enthusiast and they had hit a new eatery whenever her schedule would allow it. She glanced at a mirror in her office and saw a tasteful young lady with a blue dress with a white clutch, white heels and a small white cap with blue polka dots.
She inventoried her purse to make sure she has the necessaries. "Lipstick, ID, key, money, collapsing mage baton... okay, I'm good!" She snapped the clutch closed and left the office to the waiting cab.
I've been putting it off, but the company really needs its own vehicles. Tanya said that she had something 'in the works' but with so many projects that could be anywhere from five days to five years! Until that is resolved, perhaps a Ford or maybe the Duesenberg? A bit ostentatious, and hardly economical, but sometimes you need to make an impression! So maybe two cars? One for daily use and the other for 'events'?
There was a light, cool drizzle when she arrived but she had no compunctions about putting up a shield to keep it off of her. She had had enough of miserable weather, thank-you-very-much! The restaurant was riding the line between upscale and hearty but it did it aplomb if rumor was correct. They had a maitre-d who was dressed nearly as well as the average guest (and better than a few) who led her to their table efficiently.
Zollinger stood as she arrived but the Maitre D helped her with her chair so they sat at the same time. "You look lovely, Visha. Is that dress new?"
"I should say it's just something I found in the back of my closet, but it's actually a new design from Zart. I am but a poor guinea pig, forced to endure the whims of mad designers. Surely you see how I'm suffering?"
"Nonsense, it suits you well. I expect we'll see those on the market soon, then?"
"You'd be better suited if you looked at your watch than a calendar, actually. We don't schedule to the fashion shows, but instead whenever we finish a product."
"Doesn't that cause problems? I hear that the world of fashion is rather a slave to rules, written or otherwise."
She shrugged. "The president has never been a slave to anyone, much less rules. Why should I be? Some retailers have complained as we make extra work for them but most are happy to give people a new reason to shop. As long as people are buying, aren't we all better off?"
The waiter came and Visha didn't stint on either drinks or her meal. Ignatz had been shocked the first time she had ordered a full meal like this but now he was (barely) used to it. The waiter, however, stumbled a bit when she ordered for herself but managed to recover. "Very good! Your drinks will be arriving soon!"
She had a large glass of Asbach Uralt in front of her and Ignatz knew from experience that its smooth exterior hid the heart of a demon. He, on the other hand, contented himself with a much less imposing Himbeergeist more suited to his tolerance level.
They had to tell the waiter who delivered the drinks which belonged to whom when they arrived.
The topics were mostly kept light, touching on business primarily. That, and food, were their main topics of conversation since, for awhile at least, the world seemed mostly at peace. While she made steady progress on a steak that was twice the size of his, he said, "I hear your boss will coming back to Germania soon... her birthday, I believe?"
"You know about that? Well, yes, I suppose you would since we have meetings with all manner of governments and businesses then. Hardly a minute will be unplanned!" Though her tone was light, he caught a wistful look in her eyes.
"Unless she's going to be a career ambassador – and every indication is that she doesn't intend that – her term of service will be up in a few years."
"A few years... I guess you are right," she sighed. "But lets talk of more pleasant things!"
"Oh, like what?"
"Like dessert!" she said with sparkling eyes.
He saw that her steak, the stack of baby potatoes and the succulent greens were but a memory of her plate and raised his finger to attract another waiter.
Chapter 114 - Decisions, decisions
Tanya waved over the waitress and whispered in her ear and gave her a folded bill. The woman smiled and nodded and went about her business. A few minutes later, the musician came over with an easy mosey reminiscent of the South where he grew up. His feet never left the invisible furrows in a way that would incense a military trainer.
Not that Tanya cared! She was neither his trainer, nor in the military currently.
"I take it you fine people wanted a word with me?" He sat down and leaned back in his chair.
Tanya granted him a small smile. "Indeed we do. Thank you for taking the time out of your break to talk to us."
He laughed and patted his wallet. "Mr. Cleveland was very convincing and four more brothers following along behind was even more convincing! So, how can I help you?"
"How would you like to make far, far more than that, Mr. Johnson? Quit playing in dives such as this place, always looking over your shoulder for the Feds to busting in at any minute?"
"Meybe they would, meybe not. The owner is pretty smart, pays the graft on time, never a complaint." He drank from his beer (Oscar paid for it) and didn't look too interested.
"Could be. You might even make more here than with me, I'm not making any promises." The blonde youngster grinned. "But you have talent and it's being wasted here, grinding out day after day. One day, you'll look back and realize that you have nothing to show for it... or you'll be dead and not care about such things." If I recall correctly, he died young of some genetic condition but it could have easily been bad booze or a heart attack. Money's not a cureall but it can get you a good doctor, at least.
Robert sat up a bit straighter. He felt a tiny chill on his back. What his gramma called 'Old Scratch steppin' on y'all's grave.' "What are you offering?"
"You get to keep the rights to all your songs, but we produce them and you get a percentage of the sales. You can use the studios as much as you want but I want you to do about 20 hours a week of musical research and helping me play songs for my other albums. With pay, of course, and a percentage of any song you play on that we release but those will be my songs and I'll keep the rights."
"Tell me about the pay, ma'am."
She mentioned a figure. A very large figure.
"Is that the monthly salary?!"
Tanya shook her head. "Of course not. That's weekly. Paid holidays, medical care and housing." She glanced down at his hand. "I'll bet the beer's better there, too."
"Now, miss, you haven't really compared them. Old Tom's brew ain't bad."
"I'd rather not take my chances with wood alcohol poisoning and blindness, thank you very much."
"This all sounds good, but promises are just farts in the wind... pardon my language. How do you know you can make 'em real?"
"I thought you knew... I'm Tanya Degurechaff, the Germanian ambassador. TvD runs it's own radio station, recording studio, brewery. Everything I've already promised you is what we pay everyone there... at a minimum. You work hard, especially at the 'research', and you'll laugh at how much your starting salary was a year from now." She locked eyes with him and he found he couldn't look away even though he wanted to. "I keep my promises, sir, and this? This is easy. Once you are my person, no one touches you, and no one looks down on you."
That feeling he had came back strong... stronger than ever. He had made songs and performed them about meeting the Devil at the crossroads and some people even said the story was true and that's how he got his musical talent. It was all nonsense, of course, but he never bothered to deny the rumors because it added to his mystique. But now?
Now he could see those lonely dirt roads, clear as if were standing there now. A full moon throwing shadows from the fields around and a cold wind crawling into his clothes. Not a stitch of color anywhere to be seen except from the girl looking at him and smiling, her golden hair blowing in the moonlight breeze. He knew then that she was being absolutely honest. She would keep every promise... whether he wanted her to or not. He WAS at the crossroads and she wanted to know which way he was going to travel.
Finally taking this seriously, he took a deep breath, and an even longer drink of beer. "Okay, I'm in. When do I start?"
"Come by the Consulate tomorrow, Mr. Johnson, I'm going to show you something that will make you immortal. Figuratively speaking, of course!"
What did the Frogs call her? Devil of the Rhine, was it? We laughed at them for being so afraid of a little girl but... fuckitall, maybe they were right. He said with a very dry throat, wishing he had another beer, "I, I look forward to it, Miss Degurechaff."
* * *
[Berun – TvD research facility]
Per protocol, Visha had sent her need for a vehicle to the engineering and warehouse teams. The company had so many resources, spread out over multiple continents, that it was impossible to keep track of everything. Even Tanya's excellent memory was stretched to the limits and she had grumbled about need a computer to keep everything in line the last time she called.
Visha had been puzzled by the comment at the time. One of those girls who calculates things? I wonder how they could be of use? But the flow of conversation had swept past and she had forgotten to ask.
Within a day, several reasonable vehicles had been procured from a recently purchased inventory of an estate sale in the Republic and would be in Berun soon. Satisfied with the result, Visha gave it no more thought.
No one, however, had told the research team that the matter had been resolved.
One of the machinists had seen the request and it had intrigued him. He dragged together a few of his fellow auto enthusiasts together to brainstorm a solution. Their department was four times its original size, and growing every week, so there was a large pool to draw from.
"So a car for the boss, eh? Oh, this will be fun!"
A tall, lanky man of mixes Russy/Germenanian descent shook head. "Germanian auto was ruined by the war, what wasn't converted to tanks and planes is having a hard time keeping up. I'm not surprised that she can't find one that suits her."
"Let's start from scratch, then! Even if its just a concept car or two, we can put together something suitable, right?"
"Okay, what's the motive force?"
The others stared blankly for a second. "Oh, that's a good one! Two real options, for now, petrol and magic. The design would be totally different."
"Either way, safety would come first. Remember how she complained about the V1s being death traps? You put something on the road that isn't reliable and safe, the LEAST you expect is a dressing down!"
"Okay, let's split into two design teams. One for liquid fuel and the other for magic, errr, fuel."
One of the men, a metallurgist, had been very quiet, which was unlike him as he was one of the most enthusiastic car nuts of them all. "Yakov, what is it? Surely you aren't sleeping?"
"Ah, no, no! But this might dovetail into my research into the uses of aluminum."
"Well, that will certainly come in handy. Lighter metal, corrosion resistant and, hey!, we could even use the anodizing process instead of paint. That has worked well for the Stahl project, why not cars?"
"No, not THAT, that's already proven tech. I mean the new stuff we working on from the idea file. The project is called 'transparent aluminum' but it's more like an artificial sapphire and aluminum ceramic compound. The thing is, we've made small batches that are quite clear and amazingly tough. We were thinking that bulletproof glass could be developed from it once we have a manufacturing process nailed down."
"Oh ho! Sounds like pure fiction, but how exciting!" He paused. "You said artificial sapphires?"
"Yes? We make them all the time now. Getting real sapphires was too expensive and once we got some mages involved, they became quite easy to produce. Much easier the artificial diamonds, let me tell you."
"When are you going to commercialize these? Surely, we would have heard about it."
"Oh, we have. We make some very high grade abrasives."
"Mein Gott, man! Please send a report to the main office, as soon as possible! You make diamonds and all you think about is sandpaper?!"
He shrugged. "We needed sandpaper, not diamonds."
"Argh! Send. That. Report! Make sure you detail the size and clarity of what you can make!"
"Fine, fine, but what about the car?"
"Let the rocket team help with the aerodynamics... use their test facilities. This will be a rocket on the road and we want the world to know how fast we can go, ja?"
* * *
It should be noted that several rocket engineers had to be talked out of using ACTUAL jet fuel as what they were most familiar with was noxious, toxic AND explosive. And also banned by treaty!
* * *
[Francois countryside]
Etienne and his dauntless dog were about to move forward when Camille growled softly and turned to the right suddenly. A person was standing there wearing tough outdoor gear, suitable for hunting or walks in the country. The odd thing, though, was that he was wearing a dark hood with gold symbols stitched onto it.
He held up a finger to his lips and said in a quiet, though horribly accented Francois, "Shush, and please keep your dog quiet as well lest we be discovered." Despite his accent, his vocabulary was excellent and Etienne could understand him clearly.
"Who are you? Are you with those people?"
"Then, hardly!" He snorted, though still keeping his voice low. "They are doing something quite troublesome and I have to decide whether to interfere or to report back." He paused. "Oh, you can call me Arsenic. It's as good a name as any. And you, lad?"
"Etienne. And this is Camille."
"Good names. Strong names. You will have to work hard to live up to it, but you have assistance so you have the tools needed." He nodded sharply. "I've decided. With your help, we'll proceed forward."
"Wait, wait, to do what?!" He almost let his voice rise enough to be audible.
"Why, to rescue the princess, of course. Step lively, boy, time is not our friend, no it is not!"
* * *
[Berun – restaurant near the High Command]
It had been a long, trying and rather frustrating time after the surrender but finally the dawn was approaching.
The two old soldiers (though only a fool would think of them as 'old men') were sharing a dinner far from the official dining hall. Zettour said mildly. "We could have eaten in and saved a few marks."
"Have you become an open masochist since the war?" Rudersdorf said with a laugh! "Though the fare had improved remarkably since the war, it will never be my first choice, given other options."
"It will continue to, I assure you. I took a page from Tanya's playbook and told the staff that if we spent so much time, effort and money to produce bad food, it would be better to fire everyone and simply have meals catered in as necessary. I still ended up trimming their department by fifty percent."
"I'm glad your staff reductions are continuing. The rest of the army is more resistant but the 'peace' treaty is a might large stick and I'm not afraid to swing it! I must say, if not for the fact that it took an embarrassing defeat to give me that stick, I wish I had had it years ago."
"Learning can come in good times, but wisdom only through adversity, my friend. Tell me some numbers and let's see what wisdom we've gained, eh?"
"I've gotten the latest from Rerugen and it's good."
"Good, eh? How good?"
"GOOD good! We've met every drawdown quota imposed. Even exceeded them in some areas but our actual ability to project force will be double what we had at the start of the war within in ten years."
Zettour looked mildly surprised, but pleased. "That's faster than what we had planned but great to hear. Anyone getting suspicious?"
"The Americans don't care and the Francois hawks took such a beating in the War that they don't dare to raise their heads in complaint. Our newly enthusiastic intelligence department thinks the Anglish have figured it out. They have some good people on their side, unfortunately."
"Anyone else?"
"Oh, there's always the Russies... but they are just publically spouting off complaints that we are 'hiding something' out of a general hatred. No one is taking them seriously, much less the other nations."
"You've left out the Alliance."
"Shouldn't I? They are a shadow of what they were before the War, hardly worth mentioning."
"They were the tiny spark that dragged the whole world into the bloodiest conflict in all history, Kurt. No matter what, you have to keep that in mind." He shook his head. "Unfortunately, there may be trouble coming from direction again."
"What?! Have they learned nothing at all?!"
"I got this through unofficial channels. VERY unofficial... even our intelligence department doesn't know about this yet. But the Council of Ten has been making some odd moves and a 'friend of a friend' was kind enough to send me a message."
Rudersdorf looked grim. "What are you planning on?"
"I'm going to let Rerugen look into..." An adjutant entered the room after a perfunctory knock, per protocol when there was important news. "Sorry to interrupt generals, but there's been movement in
the Bundestag!" He quickly outlined the intel.
Zettour closed his eyes wearily while Rudersdorf leapt to his feet, "Those insufferable idiots! I swear, if I had any V1s left, I'd launch it right now... right at them!"
"Sit, please. We knew this would happen, or at least something similar." He motioned to the adjutant. "Get a message to Ambassador Degurechaff immediately, leave out nothing!" He paused, "Oh, Serebryakov, as well. They'll want to coordinate."
Dinner all but spoiled, they moved to serious discussion and even more serious drinking for the rest of the evening!