Chapter 51

“Dad, I need to break into an apartment.”

Rick stared at Tiff as she stood in the doorway to his office.

“You know, that’s normally the point where I tell you ‘no’ and remind you that I’m a Sidekick working for a hero team.”

Tiff squirmed a little. She knew this might be a hard sell, but maybe she should have chosen a different opener….

“I do have to say,” Rick smirked, steepling his fingers, “I’m intrigued. Convince me. Pitch it to me like your boss of a multi-billion-dollar corporation and I’m not about to ground you for the rest of the month.”

“Okay,” Tiff hyped herself up, putting on her best game face and clenching her fists. “So I’ve teamed up with a Sidekick and we’re trying to bust crime by cutting down on local [Enforcers] and eliminating an underground drug threat.”

Rick slowly stopped twirling the pen between his fingers, then gripped it tightly and clicked it twice.

“I have questions,” he said calmly. “So many questions.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Victoria called from the living room.

“I didn’t do it!” Amy yelled from somewhere else.

“Do I need to have an intervention?” Rick muttered to himself.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Tiff said hopefully, “We led the Sidekick to an alley where she was able to stop a mugging?”

“You know?” Rick said, appearing to consider. “No. Not really.”

“We weren’t there in person,” Victoria’s voice floated down from above. She was standing behind Tiff, leaning over her against the door frame. “We were completely safe over at Jerry’s.”

“Jerry’s,” Rick confirmed conversationally. “The Italian deli…that’s also a front for a gang.”

“Yeah!” Amy agreed, appearing by Tiff’s elbow as if she’d oozed over here like a slug. “It was great! I won 20 bucks!”

Tiff and Victoria both looked down at Amy.

“I thought you said the prize pool for that air hockey tournament was 50?” Victoria asked.

“Never underestimate Timmy ‘Two Pucks’,” Amy said with a growl. “I coulda had it all.”

“Second place?” Tiff asked.

“Second place,” Amy agreed sadly.

“Better luck next time, champ,” Tori consoled her.

Rick leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

“Why is this my life? Where did I go wrong?”

“So how about that breaking and entering, Dad?” Victoria persisted.

“Absolutely not,” he shot back instantly. “Do you really think I’d be okay letting my daughters commit a felony? Depending on the circumstances, such as if anybody is home or if a weapon is involved- which, Tori, may I remind you that Meta-related incidents with Citizens always fall under -you’re either looking at burglary or armed robbery. Neither of those sentences are light.”

“That’s if we get caught,” Victoria said with a smirk, but Rick was having none of it.

“Don’t give me that if we get caught shit,” he said, using a rare bit of language. The girls knew clown-time was over. “It’s out of the question. End of discussion.”

“Okay,” Tiff said, slightly despondent. It might be a bummer if she couldn’t see this through, but it would still be fine so long as anybody took care of business. “But take a look at this. Something isn’t right here, and someone needs to investigate.”

She walked up to his desk and put her tablet in front of Rick. She zoomed in on the hidden basement and highlighted the operating table and the safe with the blue contents.

Rick sat up, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and took the tablet. He studied it for several minutes, letting the room fall silent as he tapped away impatiently.

“What is this?” He asked at length.

“I don’t know,” Tiff answered honestly.

“Is that why it’s labeled with question marks?”

“No,” Tiff shook her head. “I found other things I’ve never seen before, and the System lets me track them. Here,” she said, wiggling her fingers. Her dad passed the tablet back and she enabled [Drugs]. Several images of tiny syringes and pill bottles, labeled with a skull and crossbones, popped up in the various buildings she’d searched the other day. If she focused on an individual icon, the System would tell her what it was, but Tiff left it zoomed out to add emphasis.

Rick took the tablet back and frowned harder.

“Why are you tracking [Drugs]? And what types? Surely you realize not all drugs are bad….”

“Of course,” Tiff huffed. “There’s no prescriptions on there. But as far as I know, there’s no good reason to have heroin, cocaine, or meth floating around, right?”

“You got a point,” Rick conceded. “Though it’d be mighty hard to crack down on them all…though with a tool like this, it might be feasible….”

Rick shook his head.

“Regulated control is a discussion for a different time. You’ve made your point; whatever this blue stuff is, the System thinks it's a controlled substance. That makes it worrisome if not outright bad. The fact that it’s hidden in a secret basement inside a heavy safe, next to a shoddy medical station, makes me nervous.”

He tapped the table with his free hand and stared up at the girls.

“How did you even find this? What were you looking for?”

“Sugar Rush thinks there’s a reason behind the surge of [Enforcers] in Hacienda,” Tiff said. “We were looking for a drug called ‘Meta-night’.”

“Nasty,” Rick said, grimacing. “Okay, that all checks out…if we allow for a rather large leap in logic. Anything can sound connected after six degrees of separation; that’s how conspiracies are born.”

“Do we want to take the chance at a new one coming true?” Victoria asked. “You see how hidden this is. Nobody official is going to look into this. And while it might pan out for some random person getting surprised by a search, nobody remotely on edge about getting caught is going to let the police inside their homes to snoop around without a warrant.”

Rick turned back to the tablet, his brows knitting into a bunch.

“I still don’t like the idea of you breaking into somebody’s home. Why not take this other tunnel?”

“Because the crawl space is too small,” Victoria said with a sigh. “No way I fit inside there, which means the only person going in is Tiff.”

Her dad and both sisters turned to stare at Tiff. She knew exactly what they were thinking; she felt it too.

Not a chance.

“But I think we’re forgetting something here,” Victoria eventually said. She patted Tiff on the head and gave her a lopsided grin. “We don’t need to start full throttle. Why don’t we go down there, knock on the door, and ask to look around?”

​

Tori stood in front of the nondescript house in the middle of a bog-standard neighborhood with a wry smile on her face. Nothing about the house stood out from any other on the street; it could be any one of a thousand Southern California homes. This one happened to be a pale blue, single-story unit with a tree and a dying patch of grass. Nothing about it screamed potential danger or hidden cartel stash.

Tori could see this going one of two ways.

Either she knocked on that door and the owner turned out to be a nice, middle-aged lady with too much time on her hands and no clue about the true nature (or even the existence) of her basement, and was thus very cooperative….

Or she turned out to be a total Karen.

And they did know it was an older woman inside, because Tiff, sitting in the car around the corner with the AC blasting, had double-checked. Tiff wouldn't let herself stay home and demanded to tag along, claiming she needed to see the evidence with her own eyes. Tori wasn’t willing to bend that far just yet and wouldn’t let her little sister follow her up the walk…especially since they decided to prepare for the worst. Like, the real worst, and they took the time to stuff Tiff into the dress. No way was Tiff being mistaken for Tiff when she went out as Theophania. Her aura, when she chose not to suppress it, along with the [Hiding in Plain Sight] Skill, was too effective.

That dress took a not-inconsiderable amount of time to don (and one did don that dress; it wasn’t worn). Tiff and Tori both were hoping for a skill similar to Tori’s summoned armor…in fact, probably the only one who wasn’t was Amy, who was enamored with the poofy thing. But she wasn’t here, as Tori couldn’t protect two sisters at once, and like it or not, her priority would forevermore be Tiff.

“V, this is Control, do you copy?”

“Control, this is V. Copy.”

Her dad’s voice came clearly through the subtle headset. They could have gone with something that looked like a normal Bluetooth unit, but this one was simply better.

“Status of T?” Rick’s no-nonsense voice came back.

“Waiting at Base, Control. Probably getting antsy.”

“Understood. No reason to delay. Cameras functioning; I have full 360 surveillance. Let’s hope nothing breaks down if you need to suit up.”

“It didn’t the first two times we tested,” Tori said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Unlike Tori, who liked to play things fast and loose, Rick was very much a follow procedure kind of guy. Checklists existed for a reason, and the best way to avoid catastrophic failure was to minimize deviation.

“Copy,” Rick’s tired voice came through. “Now, let’s hope Plan A works out. But if it doesn’t…Plan B isn’t going to be pretty. I don’t see a connection to a security alert, but you can’t discount cell phones, even if you think somebody’s incapacitated. If the police get notified, you’ll have between 5 and 7 minutes before they show up, so make sure you do what you need to do and get out. I’ll be monitoring comms.”

“Copy Control, over.”

Tori cracked her neck and shook out her shoulder to keep herself limber. No need to go hard in the paint up front; keep things nice and simple.

She marched confidently up the short walk to the front door, pressed her finger into the doorbell, and listened to the muffled echo of a pleasant chime. Now all she had to do was wait.

Tori tried visualizing the interior of the house. Before she got out of the car, they’d checked the location of the inhabitants. One male, balding and somewhat overweight, was napping in a reclining chair in a den. One female, the one they expected to answer the door, sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. The chances of the man answering the door were low, even if the doorbell woke him up, so Tori tried to picture the woman. Judging from the distance from the back of the house to the front, it would take her about a minute to reach the door if she moved leisurely. Sure enough, after about 20 seconds, Tori could hear somebody shuffling closer.

She noted two chains and a deadbolt being unlatched. Hopefully that little tidbit would be irrelevant.

As expected, the woman opened the door. As most people did when they saw Tori for the first time, the woman took a slight step back as her eyes widened, taking in her powerful frame. Tori gave what she hoped was a reassuring, professional smile.

“Yes?” The woman asked, clearly confused. She didn’t recognize Tori (which was good, since Tori didn’t recognize her), and Tori didn’t fit the description of a standard door-to-door solicitor.

“Good afternoon,” Tori said pleasantly. “I’m Victoria VanDyne; I work for a Mercenary Adventuring Firm called the [Roughnecks]. It’s come to our attention through advanced detection technology that an anomaly has appeared in your basement. We were wondering if it would be possible to access your basement to investigate the anomaly, to ensure that it isn’t a threat to you or anyone around you.”

There. The truth, more or less, with a little bit of fudge. And, strictly speaking, entirely legal. If the woman wanted to see her credentials, she could present them at any time.

Sadly, she did not. The woman fell entirely into the second category, the kind that likes to start catfights on Black Friday sales over cheap sets of dish towels.

As soon as Tori had said the word “Mercenary,” made only worse by the term “Adventuring,” the woman soured. Her face fell into a scowl that could have spoiled fresh milk and she snapped back full of hostility.

“I’ve got nothing to say to the likes of you,” she spat. “Your types are always making a mess of respectable communities. Besides, we don’t even have a basement!”

Before Tori could open her mouth to reason with the woman, she slammed the door in her face. In fact, it was clear that the woman’s last words were more of a personal tirade than anything directed at Tori, because the door was fully closed before she was halfway done with the sentence.

Tori blinked at the door, the sound of the woman angrily stomping away echoing down the hall. While she couldn’t say she wasn’t surprised…that was a little extreme, even for her imagination. Tori tactfully retreated to the sidewalk.

“That went well,” Rick chuckled in her ear. “Plan B?”

“Plan B,” Tori sighed, heading back to the Camry. Time to bring out the heavy hitter.

​

“How did it go?” Tiff asked as soon as Tori reached the car. It was blessedly cool inside even if it was murder on the gas tank.

“About as well as you might think,” Tori sighed. “No dice.”

“Oh,” Tiff frowned. With the massive collar shielding her head casting shadows across Tiff’s face, combined with the paler they’d used to sap the color from her skin, Tiff looked less “disappointed” and more “I can’t believe you’ve done this.” Somebody was going to pay for their sins, and it was most definitely an uptight old broad. Still, Tori knew Tiff well enough to see she could use a little pep talk getting into character.

“Okay, so what we’re dealing with here is your typical entitled suburbanite,” Tori said, painting Tiff a picture. “Middle class, self-important, doesn’t think very highly of Mercs or Ads. If it helps, probably kicks puppies in her spare time.”

Tiff chuckled weakly but otherwise kept her stony face stoic. On the scale of “1 to I will end your entire bloodline,” Tiff was currently only a 2, maybe a 3. They needed at least 5, though a 6 might go hard.

“We tried the reasonable route, but the lady wouldn’t hear me out. No chance to find out if they knew about the drugs or the med table, but I’m leaning toward no. Before she slammed the door in my face, she claimed they didn’t have a basement, and it didn’t sound like she was feigning interest. So if we do this…I’m pretty sure we’re barging in on a completely unrelated party.”

“Some might argue that’s all the more reason to do it,” Rick’s voice whispered in her ear, but Tori ignored him. He was playing devil’s advocate and Tiff couldn’t hear him anyway.

Tiff seemed to seriously consider backing off, but in the end, she nodded decisively once she made up her mind.

“We need to know what that substance is,” she declared. “We need to make sure it isn’t dangerous. That it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“Are you certain?” Tori pushed. “We could just drive away? We did our job…?”

“Victoria,” Tiff said, hitting her with a blast of pressure on top of the full name. “For the sake of my city, we need to know.”

“Okay,” Tori held back a grimace. “Then how hard do you want me to go? I don’t want to cause any property damage if we can avoid it….”

“Nor do I wish for you to hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary,” Tiff agreed.

“So Intimidation Tactics 101,” Tori grinned. “Got it. We’ll give ‘em another 5 minutes or so to psyche yourself up. Imagine…imagine that printer lady at Haxus’. Imagine somebody who doesn’t listen. Somebody so full of themselves they can’t spare a single thought for anybody else, and they think they’re the king of the world. Now, this person is trying to steal your stuff. Or better yet, they already stole it and they aren’t giving it back. Or– oh! They cut to the front of the line at an amusement park that you’ve been waiting in for hours, making you miss the cutoff!”

Yes, Tori could see the annoyance building! This was good!

“The audacity,” Tiff mused, mulling over the word, seeing how it fit. She spouted a few other pompous-sounding phrases like preposterous and utterly beneath me, eventually working herself into a mood. Tori got out, held Tiff’s door open, and waited for the girl-wearing dress to extricate itself from the backseat.

Tiff’s displeasure radiated off of her like a miasma of malevolent despair as she stormed across the pavement. Everything around her felt weighed down by her ire, and even the grass seemed to wilt as she passed. Tiff crossed her arms over her chest, stood in front of the door, tilted her head haughtily, and jutted her chin forward. Tori chuckled and pushed the button.

The doorbell rang and a slight crashing noise could be heard. A woman’s voice bickered loudly about solicitors in the middle of the day, panhandlers, and swindlers trying to sell her solar power. Each complaint was punctuated by a loud huff, as she sounded out of breath after working up a good head of steam.

“What now?” The woman’s irritated voice carried as she tromped down the hall. “This had better not be that wacky Mercenary woman again. Basement! As if we have a basement…been living here 23 years, you’d think I’d know a basement….”

The door opened and she froze. Instead of the smiling, professional woman in the bomber jacket asking to be shown around the house, she was face to face with the (somewhat diminutive) Dark Queen (with a very loud presence). And, of course, the silent black knight loomed behind her.

“Move aside, peasant,” Tiff said, her voice strained with impatience. “You waste my time. Do not make me go through you.”

“What?” The woman squawked, barely registering what was happening. Tiff sighed, tapped her foot, and addressed Tori.

“Champion. Move her.”

Tori silently stepped around Tiff and firmly put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. She froze, her eyes went wide, and she was likely about to scream out in protest. But Tiff released a mote of ire and the woman’s knees began to shake. Tori guided her backward into the entry hall and Tiff stepped forward, closing the door behind them.

“What…?” The woman mumbled in utter confusion. “My house…? You…?”

Tori couldn’t deny they’d just barged into a stranger’s home. She’d be out of sorts if somebody did the same to her.

“Who do you think you are?!” The woman screeched. “Pushing your way inside like– Harold! Harold, come in here! Ohh, you just wait, I’m calling the-”

“You will be calling nobody,” Tiff declared. The woman glanced down at her fearfully and froze with her phone raised halfway in the air. Tiff stared at her, really gave her a solid, baleful glare…and the woman started to choke. She clutched at her chest as she slammed herself against the wall, her phone clattering to the ground, completely forgotten.

“Destroy it,” Tiff snarled. Tori did as she was told; she picked up the phone, held it so the woman could see it…and crushed it in her hand.

“Now,” Tiff said, backing off a little and releasing the pressure. “We are here to inspect your basement. Lead us to it.”

Sadly, the woman was laboring under the illusion that she was remotely in control. She retreated to the next room over, the den, where her husband was doing a very poor job of pretending to be asleep. Perhaps he thought if he didn’t move, they might think he was dead? The woman rushed up to him and started shaking him, so he probably wished he was.

“Harold!” The woman squawked, gripping his shirt and lifting him slightly out of his recliner. “Harold! Wake your ass up! There’s a…a…witch here, do something!”

As if a middle-aged deadbeat could do anything about a witch.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll remain seated in that chair,” Tiff said, waltzing into the den. Harold’s eyes were wide open and he tried scooting back as far as he could, perhaps hoping the chair would swallow him whole.

Tiff stood in the middle of the room, surveying the walls, imagining it without furniture, seeing what was out of place. She said nothing and closed her eyes, leaving the two residents dreading what she might do next.

“Look,” Harold said. Victoria turned her opaque visor toward the man and watched him shrink back fearfully. He was braver than she gave him credit for. “We’ve got money. Just…leave us alone, don’t hurt us! Take what you want and leave!”

Bold words…but useless. If they were normal thieves, they’d be doing so already. And it might even be worse for these poor folks, because a “normal” thief might just silence them by knocking them out…or worse.

“Your money doesn’t interest me,” Tiff said in a bored, contemptuous voice. “Your hidden room does. I will say it again: where is the basement?”

“We…don’t have a basement?” Harold responded, clearly bewildered. Beside him, his wife trembled, but didn’t seem to know when to quit.

“Harold!” She hissed. “You can’t reason with these people! Common thieves, petty burglars…wak!”

“These people,” Tiff said, bringing the full weight of her ire down on the woman, making her choke on her words, “Are the rulers of the greater Los Angeles area. This land is mine, this house is mine. I shall use it how I see fit. Be grateful I do not take it from you now; all I want is to inspect your basement.”

“I don’t know of any basement,” Harold whined. “Honest to god!”

“A good person to be honest to,” Tiff mused, nodding along. But her gaze turned sharp as it bore into the man. “Better to be honest with me.”

“They’re telling the truth,” Tori spoke, letting her cold, metallic voice match the frozen atmosphere of the room. “They’re not worth your time.”

“I see,” Tiff sighed. Fortunately, they already knew how to get down to the basement, if not exactly how to access it. “Very well. Champion…if you would be so kind…tear down that wall.”

“Wall?” The woman barked. “You can’t go breaking down people’s walls!”

It looked like Tiff finally lost the last of her patience. She glanced to the side where a decorative vase sat next to a lamp, picked it up, and threw it violently down to the ground. The woman shrieked, the man paled further, and the sound of shattering glass commanded the room. Tiff pointed at the woman, nodded at Tori, and pointed to the floor.

This wasn’t a trow ‘er off da roof type of moment, and Tori wouldn’t be on board with that even if it were. It would take one hell of a compulsion from Tiff to command that sort of Villainy, and so far, despite her bossy hissy-fits, Tiff hadn’t truly gone that far.

Tori marched up to the woman, grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, and forced her to the ground. Tiff stood over her, staring down her nose, and mustered the iciest look she could manage. Tiff leaned forward until her face was inches from the woman, the folds of Tiff’s dress pushing her harder into the wall.

“You will sit where I tell you to sit,” she hissed, barely above a whisper. “And you will speak when I allow you to speak. You will do nothing else. Do I make myself clear?”

The woman nodded rapidly but wisely said nothing.

“Good,” Tiff said, stepping back. She dusted off the pleats as if touching the woman made them filthy, but she suffered the disgrace for the cause. “Do I need to have you restrained or will you stay?”

Tori, ever the helpful minion, displayed a painful-looking length of steel wire she had stashed in one of her pouches. The woman rapidly shook her head.

Tiff nodded in satisfaction and turned back to Tori.

“The wall?” She repeated, as if there hadn’t been an interruption.

Tori stepped forward, and since she was the muscle, not the mouth, she said nothing. She reared back…and put her fist through the drywall.

…Even if it had been solid cinderblocks, she’d be fine. Her strength, amplified by her Stats and compounded by her armor, let her put a dent in steel without so much as a scratch.

She pulled away the wreckage of the wall, only to reveal a space no bigger than a coat closet…with a dusty-looking spiral staircase heading below ground.

“No basement, eh?” Tori said menacingly. The man gulped and sweated some more, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. He simply worked it up and down wordlessly before deciding this was all a bad dream and passing out.

“Do. Not. Move,” Tiff commanded the woman once more, but at this point she was cowed into submission. Tori swept away the debris so Tiff’s dress wouldn’t catch on it and peered inside. Considering the volume of the dress, this was going to be a tight fit. Tori looked back, but she couldn’t exactly suggest that Tiff go wait in the car, and her little sister looked determined to see this through to the end. Tori shrugged, made sure her helmet’s HUD wasn’t screaming out any warning signs, and descended the steps.

“How does one not notice an entire staircase hidden in their walls?” Tiff muttered as she squeezed as much of herself as she could into the tiny passageway. “I know it’s small, but this is ridiculous.”

“Who knows?” Tori sighed. “Given the two upstairs, I don’t even want to guess.”

Tiff grumbled the entire way down, but Tori had to give her sister props. It couldn’t be easy walking in that thing, let alone trying to use steps when she couldn’t see the ground three feet in front of her, but somehow, she didn’t miss a single step. She didn’t even teeter precariously. Maybe the dress had some sort of magic they didn’t know about? Kind of like how it didn’t seem to like getting dirty, so it never did?

Or maybe the dress’ hoop molded to the perfect shape and size to wedge Tiff so perfectly into the spiraling stair that it was simply impossible to fall over? That was always a possibility she couldn't rule out. Sometimes it felt like the thing had a mind of its own.

Once they were at the bottom, Tiff shook herself off as Tori secured the room.

Just like they’d seen on the TAS map, the basement was rather plain. The floor was a concrete slab with a drain in the middle, leading back to the sewer. There wasn’t any decoration to speak of, unless they counted the curtains around the medical bed, and there was a single work table with a toolbox and a large fluorescent lamp that was already on. Either nobody ever turned it off, or someone had been here recently. Tori quickly checked the small crawl space, but it took a sharp bend after about 10 feet and she couldn’t see any further. Last time they checked, nobody had been anywhere near the secret tunnel, so it should still be empty.

Tiff walked up to the medical bed and Tori made sure to hurry after her.

“Looks like an operating table,” Tiff said softly. Tori laid a hand on Tiff’s shoulder, but her little sister was made of pretty stern stuff. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of those mad scientist dissection tables with all sorts of wicked scalpels, tweezers, clamps, or pliers. In fact, it seemed remarkably sterile and safe for something sealed beneath a house. The bed was angled into a seated position, as if the last patient had been upright when they were worked on.

Tiff leaned forward, peered at the side table and wrinkled her nose.

“What is that?” She asked, pointing a gloved finger at some very viscous-looking, violently blue liquid.

Tori’s instinct was to shove Tiff back, away from the goo, but it wasn’t doing anything. Her visor gave her a warning very similar to Tiff’s TAS icon, but instead of question marks, it showed 3 exclamation points.

“Whatever it is, don’t touch it,” Tori commanded. “That’s bad.”

“As, I suppose, is that?”

Tiff pointed to the safe in the corner of the room. They’d assumed it was shut, but due to the way Tiff’s map handled small, opaque objects, it was hard to tell.

As it turned out, it was open, by just the thinnest margin. Somebody must have been in a real rush to leave, or else they had to be the densest atom in the universe, because it left their extremely volatile, highly unstable drugs out in the open…

…where rats could get to them.

A mangy, foot-long sewer rodent had managed to squirm its matted, hairy body into the crevice, pushed the door wider, and was trying like mad to get into the glowing blue substance.

As Tiff and Tori stared in shock…it pressed a syringe against the back of the safe and stabbed the needle into its belly. It let out a piercing shriek, curled up, and writhed like it was on fire.

And then it began to glow…and grow.

“Oh shit,” Tori moaned. “That can’t be good at all.”

¹

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