The Power of Ten Book Four: Dynamo

I told Director Carter exactly what had happened, including the meeting with Daredevil, while leaving out the fact that I was actually the one to set the place on fire.

“You gave the samples to Dr. Richards?” Director Carter asked for verification, and I nodded calmly. She looked past me, back at the still-visible Baxter Building across the river, and considered something. “While SHIELD would definitely like its own samples, I do believe that paying Dr. Richards for the antidote in case of emergencies would be more than sufficient for now.”

“That sounds like someone whose technology is being raided by double agents all the time,” I noted cynically.

“We raid theirs right back,” she observed with a half-smile. “It’s still a generation behind the Russians.”

“Or the Wakandans?” I glanced at her bike, eyebrow raised.

“They have their own problems with the Askar, but yes,” she confirmed, eying me strangely. “Not many people actually know or believe what they hear about the Wakandans.”

“Born in this world,” I repeated blandly. “I’m remarkably ready to believe all sorts of dumb things, Director.”

“Indeed.” She paused significantly. “Have you considered working for SHIELD?”

“I did, but the pay literally is not enough for me to do what I need to do. The fact SHIELD would own what I make and produce also is not encouraging. Contracting specific jobs, sure. I’m an alchemist.”

“An alchemist. Interesting. Are you affiliated with Diablo?”

“No, he’s a totally unreliable and egotistical bastard, even if he’s regarded as among the best in the world. Being his apprentice is asking to be a volunteer for experimentation,” I sniffed. I didn’t know much about him other than him being a foe of the Fantastic Four... and not Dr. Strange, oddly enough.

But still, if I claimed to be an alchemist, I should know of him, although the alchemist profession had transformed after the Core Disciplines came out, and had gone through major shifts away from random magical stuff put together and more to exploitation of Energized Elements.

I imagined the master of traditional magic-centered alchemy was quite irked about it, but what was he gonna do, confront the Golden Hag about it? She would just laugh.

She considered me, standing there in my t-shirt and jeans over my outfit, thoroughly practical and not very showy, only the mask readily visible for what it was.

“How old are you?” she asked suddenly.

“Fifteen,” I answered calmly, and she blinked despite herself.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” she asked quickly.

“The law only requires schooling up through the eighth grade, and when you’re a genius, that translates to ‘only is required to waste your time up through eighth grade.’ I’ve got the equivalents of post-doctorates in multiple disciplines. I do not require a basic educational foundation, thank you.”

I could probably put together an FTL stardrive right now, even if it wasn’t very good. I didn’t need to take history courses and out-of-date English courses, as the States tried to fight off the ‘New Russian’ language that had magically swept the world and allowed everyone to speak with one another.

Well, it wasn’t the only nation trying to cling to their old language, but reality was grinding away remorselessly at them with the sheer pervasiveness of the Human Tongue. Speaking in an Old Tongue, as they were called now, was obviously because you didn’t want someone to understand what you were saying, and so was incredibly rude.

I re-learned about a language a day with Polyglot, so that wouldn’t work on me, but it was still something.

She was a bit taken aback by my declaration of aptitude. “So, you’re another Reed Richards and Tony Stark, is that it?”

“Both of them lack foundations or inspiration in the magical and psionic fields,” I pointed out, crossing my arms. “I’m not their equal in pure technology and cutting-edge science, although I have no difficulty understanding what they have done once they do it. My skillset is more towards merging existing knowledge and refining it, rather than venturing onto new ground through pure research.”

She was wrestling with the fact I was fifteen and trying to reconcile that with how mature I was acting. “You comport yourself well for your age.”

“My brain runs fifteen to twenty times faster than an average human. Maturity comes when you have a lot of time to think about things.”

I could see a spark in her eyes of sympathy and understanding. Shielders also had enhanced reflexes and thought-speed. Their ability to calculate scenarios and choose the right course of action was one of the things that made them great leaders and commanders, a type of genius that was very difficult to measure compared to simple IQ, but no less transcendent.

They also had a level of social awareness that most geniuses lacked, enabling them to measure people at a glance and choose the proper approach to dealing with them. The common application of genius really didn’t sum up a Shielder, simply because they weren’t super-scientists.

It was the biggest thing that set them apart and above normal men. Sure, they had enhanced physical ability, but it was at the highest peak of humanity in terms of power. Endurance and recovery, yeah, they trumped people, and they had Cores to step beyond.

But it was the minds of the Shielders that were truly superhuman, it was just that the nature of their genius made it hard to tell.

“How are you at teaching?” she asked me directly.

I lifted an eyebrow. “It’s an important job that pays a total pittance compared to its value. It takes a great deal of time and devotion to do properly, and I have other things I have to accomplish that will compensate me much more fairly.”

“Some would say the rewards of teaching are not measured in dollars,” she challenged me.

“Those people don’t need millions of dollars to accomplish their private goals and upgrades,” I replied casually. “I don’t work in the mundane world, Director. A year’s salary for a well-paid civilian is here and gone in a week to me. Teaching is not a job that creates cash flow at anything that I would consider a reasonable rate.”

“Yet you are slapping on a costume and are ready to beat up criminals?” she asked archly.

“Publicity. Standing up for my moral code is a bonus.”

Her smile got a little lopsided. “You are treating this as advertising?” she asked archly.

“In the space of one night, it got me in contact with the best lawyer in the city; served as an icebreaker introduction to who may be the smartest man in the world, who has already offered me a lab to work in; and one of the foremost members of SHIELD has approached me, tried to recruit me, and is at least considering offering me a contract for alchemical items that will prove very lucrative to me.” I spread my hands. “I stopped a hijacking, retrieved a nasty surprise toxin, and watched a drug lab burn down. Would you say that was an appropriate use of my time?”

She blinked at me in surprise. “You planned all this?” she asked sharply.

“SHIELD didn’t see me enter the Baxter Building, they saw me exit it,” I noted to her. “Flying. My involvement in the earlier hijacking would have been noted, and a known superhuman would have limited the number of people deemed eligible to contact me after this surprising event. Given your known interest on the heroic side of things, you were the most eligible, and I exited the building just before your normal office hours. You literally caught me on your way to work.”

She made another mental adjustment to her thinking, staring at me. “That is very astute of you.”

I just shrugged. “I’m thinking all the time, Director. If I may, why did you bother asking me the teaching question, given my earlier, money-focused response?”

She hesitated a moment, weighing her words, and realized I was measuring her just as she was measuring me, and I was aware of her assessment. “We have a group of young Powered, about your own age, some of whom are extremely intelligent. Having someone of their own age who could work as a mentor would be extremely beneficial to them.”

“All of them are geniuses?” I asked archly.

“Well, no. Two of them definitely are, while the others have... other talents, beyond their powers,” she admitted.

“I see.” I steepled my fingers. “Would I be allowed to employ them?” I asked calmly.

“Employ them?” she repeated, frowning. “That’s technically child labor...”

“Superhumans have extraordinary financial needs. Employing them so they can at least be self-supporting, and teaching them workspace discipline would be important. I am aware that you want to recruit them when they are of age, and you could certainly finance them when they are, but a measure of independent thinking is something quite valuable to have, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

She regarded me thoughtfully. “And you’ll profit by their genius?” she asked directly.

“Most certainly. And no, I won’t cheat them. They’ll receive fair and ongoing compensation for their time.”

Her eyes flickered. “Let me think about that, and I’ll get back with you.” I shrugged, as it wasn’t my decision to make. “As an aside, what do you think of mutants?”

“People born with Powers? What about them?”

“There is an undercurrent of bias among many people regarding them, especially with how some of them manifest.”

“Oh. Perhaps they need to look at the idiots dying of radiation poisoning after trying to become Primus.”

That got another grim smile out of her. “Well enough. Do you have a means to be contacted?”

“Not particularly. Do you have a card? I can check in when available.”

“Getting directly ahold of a Director of SHIELD is often not very easy.” Nonetheless, she did indeed draw a card from her belt.

“Getting ahold of a superhuman at all tends to be nigh-impossible, especially one with days as busy as mine,” I replied, accepting the card and its general number to the SHIELD outpost here, turning it over to find an extension on the back. Not something given out lightly. “I’ll try not to call with anything urgent.”

Urgent generally meant bad news, to be acted on immediately.

“Please get a number we can contact you at more readily,” she said, turning back to her hovercycle and swinging onboard smoothly.

“Noted.” Neither confirmation nor denial. She gave me another assessing look, before lifting off into the air with a humming roar of the fans and heading off towards the SHIELD base nearby.

Interesting that she hadn’t brought up my accent and thus my origins. Preserving for future use of leverage? Not having citizenship meant being here illegally, and was definitely something she could force on me.

On the other hand, Murican citizenship was a total pain in the arse to gain, and was considered eminent over all others by them. I’d be perfectly happy with a green card, and all this would come out as soon as I was paid over the board by anyone.

Well, it turned out I knew this lawyer...

I smiled to myself and set to get flying again, turning on Vampire’s Veil once more to thwart any cameras, satellites, or recon craft about, and the long-duration camouflage magic I attached to the suit would rapidly thwart any living spotters who couldn’t keep up with me.

That, and being able to Teleport once I was out of sight meant I was gonna be damn hard to follow.