Industrial Strength Magic

Chapter 15: Fiscal Armor

“And can any of this information be used to reveal Mr. Karnos’s identity?” The lawyer, a bulldog of a man named John White asked, resting his fingertips on the manilla envelope.

“Well, some of the bank accounts are in his real name, if that’s what you’re asking,” Perry said.

“Then I’m sorry, Paradox, I can’t carry out your request.” John said, sliding the folder back across the table “It is against the law to disseminate the personal information of a super.”

“I thought that was just civil servants. You know, law enforcement, government, postmen, etc.” Perry said.

The lawyer cocked his head and a hint of a smile crossed his face.

“It’s rare my clients know that. Yes, the law I’m referring to is limited in scope to government employees, but I’ll abide by it nonetheless.”

“Why?”

“It ties in very neatly with the unspoken rule among supers not to attack family members.”

John pulled out his phone and did a quick search.

“January 12th, 1975, Guardian’s personal information was released, leading to the death of his wife. In a blind rage, the Guardian killed one hundred and fifty people, including the news station that leaked his information and the villain who acted on it.

“Well, that’s-“

“October, 1975, Crypto killed the governor of Idaho when legislation requiring the registry of supers exposed her daughter to attack.

“I think I-“

“Hold on, I’m not done with 1975,” John said, holding up a finger.

“December, 1975, Gas Giant murdered an entire precinct of police officers as well as the cowl responsible when his son was killed as a direct result of an information leak.”

“There’s literally thousands of examples of these,” The lawyer said, scrolling through them. “1975 was just when supers were starting to get started. The real bad years were 1978-1985”

“I didn’t hear about all that.” Perry had those rules baked into him, but never heard the cold-blooded reasons for them.

“It’s a law school thing.” John said, setting his phone aside. “Long story short: For better or worse, supers are human too, and when a human is hurt, their instinct is to hurt back. In the case of supers, their capability to do so is grossly magnified, which is why we treat people like you with such favorable terms.”

“Huh.” Perry grunted through his helmet. It made sense.

“My advice, go through the information you have there with a fine-tooth comb and remove anything that could be used to identify Karnos, then resubmit it to me. Think of it like this. You are blackmailing Karnos the supervillain, a separate entity than Karnos the civilian. If you bring enough heat down on Karnos, you may even be able to ‘squeeze’ him out.”

“Squeeze him out?”

“Never heard of that one?” The lawyer asked. Perry shook his head.

“’squeezing’ a super out is applying enough pressure to a super’s public identity that they effectively retire and spend the rest of their life as a private citizen. It’s always considered a wise move to leave a super the ‘out’ of simply returning to civilian life. I’m not surprised you didn’t know that one. We throw that term around a lot at the lawyer and government level.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna work with this guy,” Perry said.

“Probably not.” John admitted. “Cowls are significantly less liable to bend to that sort of thing.”

“Alright, I’ll review and resubmit,” Perry said, before pulling out his handful of chits that had begun to accumulate hanging out with Titan’s Crew.

“I was also hoping to open up a spending account with your office.” Perry said, dumping the chits on the table, some five thousand two hundred and thirty-eight dollars worth.

“That can be done, but first we’re going to have to come up with a Signature for you if you’re going to bank with us. We can also forward your Signature to Nexus so the police can verify your identity as well.” John said.

“Why do you need a signature?”

“So a random man off the street can’t put a helmet on and steal your identity, Mr. Paradox.”

Perry glanced aside as he thought. “I’m guessing the signature isn’t just me writing my name down.”

“No sir,” John said, pulling out several official looking documents and began filling them out, with ‘Paradox’ written at the top.

“A Signature, in the super world, is minor demonstration of your power, the specifics of which are known only to the government and you. Supers being as rare as they are, the chances of someone knowing what your signature is, and being able to replicate it, are vanishingly small. You’ll need a signature if you intend to interact more with Nexus and the police during your career.”

“It also proves to me that you’re not a kid with a helmet on, trying to launder money.”

“Hmm…” Perry thought, tapping his finger on the table.

“A shifter might briefly copy a specific celebrity, or perform a trick with their bodies, lick their elbow…a bruiser might crush a steel bearing between thumb and forefinger. Something small, predetermined, and kept between the super and their lawyer.”

So we can use props? That makes it easier.

“Ah, I’ve got something. You have blank paper and tape?”

“Where do you think you are?” John chuckled, pulling a sheet of paper and a roll of tape out of his desk.

Perry rolled the paper up and taped it closed.

“Bend this paper.” Perry said, handing it back.

John, looking a bit incredulous, began torquing on the paper. The lawyer frowned and twisted harder, his face reddening as he gradually bent the paper.

“I give up, you’ve obviously got a power,” John said, throwing the paper tube in the trashcan beside him before turning back to his papers,

Under signature, the lawyer wrote.

‘Rolls up piece of paper, tapes closed, asks verifier to bend. Bending the paper is extremely difficult.’

“Does that look good? Do you want that to be your Signature? Nexus and the police will use that method to verify your identity as Paradox.” John asked, showing Perry the form.

“Sure, looks good.”

“I’m required by law to inform you that a Minder could likely imitate your signature through subterfuge, but…that’s the same for everyone. Other than that, it’s a pretty good signature. Obscure and difficult to replicate.”

“Now for our rates,” John said, sliding forward a piece of paper. “We charge an annual retaining fee in the form of a percentage of your money, which scales down as the amount kept in trust with us increases.”

He pointed down at the brackets, where Perry was at fifteen percent, all the way down to a savings accounts of a hundred million and more, which were charged 0.5 percent of their value.

“Fifteen percent annually is pretty high,” Perry muttered.

“I’ve yet to see a super on either side of the fence take longer than a year to become a millionaire. Look at it this way. We can set your annual payment for tomorrow, which will be…”

John pulled out a calculator.

“Seven hundred eighty-five dollars and seventy cents,” Perry offered.

John cocked a brow, sliding his calculator away.

“Which will pay for our services until next year at the same time, by that point in time you should be able to skip these brackets here, all the way up to this one.”

He pointed to the millionaire bracket, which was a much smaller 5%.

“So next year I can expect a fifty thousand dollar payment minimum?” Perry winced.

“Our savings accounts accrue roughly eight percent year over year, so you’re not likely to lose out too badly.” John said.

8% of 100 million is 8 million, and they only take 500k out of that. Damn. Pays to be rich, I guess.Dad really wasn’t kidding about money being important.

“What ‘services’ am I paying for?” Perry asked.

“Paperwork, handling larger payments between you and Nexus, the kind that are too big for chits. Legal advice and assistance in large purchases. Defense in court is not included.”

“What if I want to start a business and sell parts to other supers?”

“We can handle the legalese, paperwork, taxes, and arrange money transfers, but we are not an advertising firm. We can’t get you in touch with people who want to buy or sell specific Tinker-tech.”

“Oh,” Perry slumped a bit.

“We can, however, put you in touch with the people who run the Tinker Marketplace, and they can get you sorted out.”

“That would be fantastic.” Perry said, taking his manilla envelop full of the secrets Heather had accumulated in her lifetime of living with the cowl, and over the last few days snooping around.

John leaned over and ruffled through a box of cards and pulled one out.

“Their contact info.”

“Thanks,” Perry said, taking the card. I wonder if Dad sells stuff with these people too?

“Hey, does Mechanaut bank with you guys too? I was wondering what he makes in a year.” And if he donates to super insurance.

“No, but I couldn’t tell you even if he did.”

Liar. I got you guys’ office from my dad.

“I’ll just ask him myself then.” Perry muttered to himself, studying the Tinker Marketplace business card.

“In my professional capacity, I’d advise against it. The Mechanaut is extremely dangerous and unstable.”

“Hah!” Perry barked a laugh as he stood and gathered up all his documents, shaking his head. “That’s rich.”

John frowned, cocking his head.

“You’re probably gonna wanna save that Signature,” Perry said nodding to the rolled-up piece of paper in the trash. “Could be worth something in a few years.”

The lawyer broke into a smile.

“Get outta here, you cocky brat.”

***After Perry Left***

Kid’s not afraid of The Mechanaut? Makes no damn sense. I’ll never understand supers, I guess, John thought as he filled out the paperwork in triplicate to send to Nexus and open a new account here.

As the afternoon wore into evening, he found himself glancing over at the unnaturally stiff paper tube over and over again.

Finally the overweight lawyer sighed and scooted his chair over to the trash bin, fishing out the paper.

He pulled out a sticky note and wrote on it:

Paradox, 1st Signature

Feb 18th, 2022

“Let’s see if you’re right, kid.” John chuckled to himself, locking the paper away in his private safe.

***Perry***

I love it here already, Perry thought to himself, his helmet pressed against the window showcasing A.I. cores.

Who needs a girlfriend when you can buy the perfect one for the low, low price of eighteen million dollars…Ooh, and a robo-butler!

Magic was neat. Super-science was neat.

¿Por que no los dos?

“Mr. Paradox?” A secretary asked, her voice prying him away from the glass.

“Yes?” Perry asked, stepping away from the display case and straightening his collar.

“We’d like to get some information from you, then you can go through the database and see if there’s anything you’d like to buy or sell through us.”

The information they needed from him was a vague description of his specialty. ‘reinforcement’ is what Perry wrote down. Then they asked whether or not his creations could be used or modified by others.

The ability for a Tinker-made object to be modified by another Tinker was exceedingly rare, and made those objects soar in value, based on the layering of multiple Tinker’s abilities.

Sadly, Perry was in the broadest category of Tinker, whose powers didn’t play nicely with modification, but could be used by others.

If I’d been an Industrial Tinker, I’d be able to do it, Perry thought with a slight sense of regret.

Perry could still sell stuff though, just not quite at the same premium.

Still, the premiums were pretty high, and it only took a short time of looking before Perry found the niche his class was made for: Making cheap parts for budding tinkers.

There were some self-healing super-plastics, nanotech, quantum foam batteries, and so on that he couldn’t keep up with, even with his multipliers, but Perry could reduce his prices drastically lower and outcompete other Tinker’s creations in a similar price bracket.

And drastically lower was relative.

The aluminum parts he’d been cutting out on his CNC machine by the hundreds would go for 50$ apiece due to their outlandishly high weight to strength ratio.

It wasn’t the best Tinker-tech. The best tinker tech was absolutely insane, but for most people…it was Good Enough.

“You want your vendor I.D. to be ‘good enough?’” the secretary asked.

“Is that bad?” Perry asked.

“You can if you want, but most Tinkers have their super handle be their vender name, so they can capitalize on their fame, should they achieve any notoriety.”

“That’s a better idea.” Perry said. “Make my vendor name Paradox. Subtitle: It’s Good Enough.”

“It’s your store,” The secretary said, shrugging as she took down the notes. “Now let me show you the Measurement room.”

She took him down a hall and opened up a door to a noisy room filled to the brim with high-tech testing equipment.

Inside, thousands of gadgets were being destroyed in creative ways, varying from acid to being pulled apart or overclocked until they caught fire.

The sheer waste made Perry wince in sympathy at the sheer amount of value being lost.

“Anything you want to sell that isn’t a unique item, we’d like you to submit in units of one thousand seven hundred and twenty-eight, so we can run a random selection of them through testing. Tinkers who buy from the marketplace want to know the exact tolerances of what they’re buying, and that is something that we can provide.”

“Ah,” Perry nodded. “Makes sense. What’s the protocol for unique items?”

“Unique items require a member to pass a probationary period. In short, you can’t sell unique items yet. But if you keep selling with us, that can change.”

“No problem,” Perry said, fishing out a little aluminum tendon-rod from his pocket. “Since we’re here, can we test this out? Give me a ballpark idea of what it’s worth?”

The woman took the aluminum and inspected it.

“What’s this?”

“tendon for one of my suits. I cut it the wrong size.”

“And what’s it made of?” she asked, inspecting it closely.

“Proprietary blend.”

She shrugged.

“Sure, let’s put it in The Squisher.”

The woman walked up to a giant steel piston and lowered it until it was holding the aluminum bar in place. They backed away behind the protective glass and the woman hit the button, and Perry was slightly disappointed to see his aluminum tendon fold almost instantly. He was hoping it would resist dramatically a while, maybe gouge a furrow in the steel.

The woman didn’t seem surprised that the Squisher performed according to its namesake. Come to think of it, it’s probably Tinker-tech.

“We don’t have enough of them to draw up a comprehensive profile, but I’ve seen plenty of parts with this kind of compressive strength sell for at least two fifty each.”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars?” Perry asked, hopeful.

“Two dollars and fifty cents.”

Dang. That’s a lot less than I thought, but…

He could cut out a thousand of them from a single $25 dollar sheet of aluminum plate, so he didn’t really have any room to complain.

That’s actually still a decent amount of money. Plus Perry was pretty sure she’d given him a minimum number. They hadn’t tested tensile strength, toughness, or corrosion resistance, and Perry was pretty sure it would perform better than expected in all categories, pushing the price much higher.

“When can I start selling here?” Perry asked.

“We’re open twenty-four hours a day. Just bring anything you want to sell to the back of the building and give the men there your product and your I.D.

“Can you help me put together a list of various parts in high demand?” Perry asked. “Preferably simple ones that can be cut out with a CNC machine?”

The woman gave him an amused smile.

“I can do that, Paradox.”

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