Chapter Text
The man from the Wardens was reed thin, his face wan and pinched as he carefully assembled the sheaf of papers in front of himself.
He turned to give me a once over, tired fishy eyes languidly dragging from the brim of my hat to the rusted chains hanging from my tip.
He sighed and slumped into his seat, a new layer of exhaustion settling across his features. He jerkily indicated the chair across from him at the desk, waiting for me to take a seat before he began.
Before I even had time to settle in my chair he began, voice as dry as chalk.
“Cathexis. You’ve been called here to handle a little problem that requires…discretion.”
I nod, leaning forward to emphasize my interest.
“Recently, one of our assets has gone missing, only leaving their personal computer behind.” A small amount of…something enters his voice as he speaks. Warmth, Curiosity?
“While a computer is usually full of information useful to an investigation, our asset was a software specialist. Liked to keep things well hidden.” The ghost of a smile, quickly hidden behind his tiredness as he continued.
“There were conditions to his contract, however. Namely that their computer could be examined for possibly illicit or otherwise concerning material under dire circumstances, which this situation certainly qualifies as.”
I carefully forced a frown off my face, but nodded. Tight leash.
“We have a rather large collection of files to dig through, and have approached multiple thinkers like yourself to offer their expertise. You’ll be paid upon completion of a report on a small collection of our asset’s personal files. Is this acceptable?”
I sit up straight in my chair, making a show of my consideration. I hadn’t gone into the meeting blind, and everything that'd been said so far could be gleaned from the letter I’d received.
I clear my throat and begin.
“While I’m certainly intrigued, I’d like to ask a few questions?” without waiting for a response, I continued. “First of all, I noticed you’ve been dancing around it the whole time. Who is your missing asset? I can’t imagine you, or the Wardens rather, believe that their identity is something that has any chance of remaining hidden during this investigation?”
He nods, pushing his glasses further up on his nose before speaking, his voice again empty of emotion.
“Epeios. A formerly villainous Tinker, specialized in malicious software. Previously maintained connections with a variety of parahuman organizations based in Earth Bet’s United States.”
“Any extant groups?”
“We believe he maintained a connection with some members of Palanquin, as well as individuals who are believed to be former members of the Elite. Beyond that? If he does have other connections, we don’t know about it.”
“How about here? You mentioned his specialty, and that he’s an asset, but what does that entail exactly?”
“He was hired here shortly after our founding. Much of our digital infrastructure is his work, and while the vast majority of his work is…shelf-stable, so to speak, there are more delicate elements that require his maintenance.”
I nod slowly. I’d never heard of Epeios before, but I can understand why his disappearance might be an issue.
“So, If I’m understanding this correctly, your tinker here has gone missing and you want me to snoop through his diary to find clues?”
He nods.
“That seems…inefficient. I can’t imagine that’d have very fruitful results.”
He shrugs helplessly “Wasn’t my idea. I’m just the middleman here. From my understanding, we’ve been reaching out to as many thinkers as we can on this case, and looking for commonalities before sending those findings forward for another pass. Ultimately, what we need you to do is exactly as you said. We want you to look over some files, look for clues, and then compile those clues together.”
“I can do that, sure. Where do I sign?”
Worthless. All of them, worthless. The man from the Wardens was wrong. The diary entries were useless. I took a different approach, trying to get in contact eith anyone he might have called a friend.
I probed a few members of Palanquin, as well as his Elite contacts. No dice, though one member of Palanquin, a man named Newter had known a little more than the others.
He had agreed to a telephone interview, and he mostly spoke about how he came to know Epeios, and befriend him, but commented that about two years previous to his disappearance, he obviously tried to distance himself from Palanquin.
“At first I thought it was him trying to prepare to flip. He’d talked about it before. How he’d always wanted to be a hero, do something ‘unambiguously good’.”
Newter paused.
“He was just a bit older then I am. Or at least a little older then I think I am. I think that incident with Tattletale shook something up in him though. He got quiet after that.
He still talked if I poked him enough, but one day he got loud. Shouting about how I should leave him alone, about how he should’ve known better then to ‘talk to some kid I did an oddjob for.’”
Newter made a strangled noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh.
“He hung up right after. Messaged me the next day, apologizing for blowing up, and being incoherent and so-on and so forth. Didn’t talk much to me after that. I heard he got tight with Tattletale, though.”
“Tight with Tattletale? What do you mean?”
“Well. There was some drama between him and her, some business arrangement that went sour or something. Never got the precise details, but after that got figured out they uh, just talked a lot, I guess.”
Newter’s voice brightened a bit.
“There was a betting pool. Between me and a few of the Irregulars on why they got tight all of a sudden. Before you ask, he did some jobs for them too, that's why they were in on it. Anyway, yeah, they talked a lot and nobody really knew why.”
“This betting pool, was there anything there that had any amount of credence to it?”
Newter snorted before answering “No, not really. I think the top odds were on Epeios hiring Tattletale out as a therapist, and them being long lost siblings. It wasn’t really a serious thing, ya’know?”
“Right. Did you maintain any connections with Tattletale, or with any of the betting pool participants?”
“With Tattletale? Indirectly, I suppose. I could throw Imp a line and see if she bites, but I can definitely get you in contact with some of the Irregulars.”
“That’d be great.”
“You said he was hard to work with?” Caper nodded “ In what way?”
Caper shrugged limply with one arm.
“Dunno. He acted mostly the way all mercs are. Closed off, all business, but just a little weird. I always got the feeling that he was in on some joke we weren’t. His work was fine, and it's not like he snooped on us the way he did to the Undersiders. On a purely practical level, he did nothing but help, but I couldn’t shake a feeling about him being off, you know?”
I nodded slowly, giving him time to see me think. I went for an attack.
“Was that a concern when you were contracting him? That he would ‘snoop’? Was that a habit of his worth noting?”
Caper straightened in his chair, his shoulders stiffening as though he was trying to carve himself from stone.
“Yeah, I mean Tattletale- our contact? Intermediary? Whatever. The lady we got his contact info from warned us, told us ‘They do good work, just use a computer you don’t use for any other purpose, and then destroy the computer afterwards.’” he pauses, pulling deeply from the water bottle I’d given him when he walked in.
“I guess she’d hired him out for all sorts of oddjobs, and while doing other stuff, got a little touchy with private files of hers. She caught him peeking, cut him off, and doesn’t hire him for anything but uh.”
I can perceive Caper’s fist closing under the table. Its closing around something thin and roughly circular, likely a pen or pencil.
He looses a deep sigh, hissing out from between his teeth.
“I guess she still keeps contact. Likes talking to him or something. She gave us his info. If you’re looking for the guy, she’s your best bet, lady.”
I cooly nod and curl my mouth into a slight smile.
“Thank you, this is all very useful info. Your cooperation is noted and appreciated. We’ll keep you posted on the status of the investigation, I’m sure this thing will be puzzled out by this time next week.”
I force more warmth into my smile, and lock eyes with him. They’re tired and a little relieved. He’s glad this interview is over. So am I.
“If uh, you need anything, just uh, call me.”
I smile and nod, he returns my smile and walks away, closing the door behind him.
I wait a moment for him to walk to the end of the hall and then release my own sigh. I crumble bonelessly onto the small table, its plastic surface cool against my forehead.
Goddamnit. Caper was the fourth person interviewed today, and pretty much said the same thing as all the others. Private, met through Tattletale, the two were friendly despite a serious breach of privacy on the missing person’s end.
It seemed like all signs led back to her, to Tattletale.
I feel my burner phone buzz in my pocket, and I lazily pull out the dull touchscreen brick, and furiously swipe at the screen until it turns on. When it does, I read the notification on the little radial menu’s dot.
“Hey. This is I. Heard you were chasing after Tt to talk about E. I’ll tell you about her. Meet at 212 W Maple @6. Come w/o mask. Meet you in the corner booth.”
I had an hour to get ready. I rushed out the door.