Greg Veder vs The World

Cutscene: Understandings

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April 12, 2011

7:21 PM

As he closed the door behind him, the bearded man stood in place. He tilted his head slightly, nodding at the figure across the room as she stared over at him.

"Director."

The director of the PRT didn't move, her hands latticed together over her face as she stared at Armsmaster. Behind her was a series of tall windows interspersed by symmetrical portions of silver wall paneling, the entire set spanning the length from floor to ceiling despite each port not being much wider than the director herself.

"Colin."

The word came with a slight nod of her own, the veteran cape taking that as permission to continue. He strode forward, the leather soles of his oxfords audible against the white tile flooring. Armsmaster pulled out the seat directly across from the director, the contents of his hands resting in his lap as he sat down. Taking off the cosmetic glasses he had worn for the last few hours, he placed them in his jacket pocket and lifted his gaze to the director.

"So…"

Colin Wallis needed no further prompting. "It's not him."

The rotund woman actually raised her eyebrows at this, giving the man in front of her a look that most would call incredulous if it wasn't for the tense scowl on her face. "You're joking."

"Very rarely."

"I don't understand." The woman leaned back in her seat, exposing her mouth as she kept her hands still laced in front of her. "We've had knowledge of him for over a week. A total of four calls named him as a potential trigger. Two of those were from his mother."

The bearded man tipped his head forward. "I'm aware of the particulars."

"Then how is he not being prepped for the Wards as we speak?" Piggot punctuated the sentence with a palm meeting the thick wooden surface of her desk, the impact sending some loose pens rolling off the side of the large bureau. "This should have been simple, Colin."

"Again, I'm well aware of what was assumed, Director," he responded bluntly. A hand rose to scratch the side of his face, a slightly red patch of skin still remaining from where Colin had forcefully removed the false addition over his beard. "Those assumptions were wrong."

"I very much doubt that." Piggot huffed as she leaned forward on her desk, her gaze leaving Colin's for a moment.

"That may be but it does not take away from the fact that there is very little to doubt at this point," the large man responded, his voice tinged with clear annoyance despite the flatness of his tone. Piggot didn't seem to notice, and if she did, she chose not to comment on it. "Greg Veder has no corona and no gemma, at least nothing definite that would point to him being a parahuman. In the extremely unlikely possibility that he is a parahuman, he's not the one we're looking for. Besides, any of the tests he did take would at best label him a low-level Thinker of some sort."

"With that said," The cape opened the folder, pulling out a full-color glossy picture of what appeared to be a figure in a silver, blue and white costume wielding a sword. The steel-scaled visage of Lung bearing down on the cape was easily recognized, even with the bright flames and slight blur in the image. "Whoever this is, I can say with certainty that it isn't the boy I tested today. Nothing in his scans would decisively out him as a parahuman. Again, we could make the argument for a Thinker - possibly a Tinker - but our position would be… shaky, at best."

"You realize that makes no sense at all. He's an average-height, blue-eyed blond in his mid-teens." Piggot rumbled, leaning forward even further. "How many teenage boys in this city could there be to match that description perfectly?"

"Over twenty-one hundred," Colin shot back robotically. The cape raised an eyebrow as Piggot's own eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly at the relatively large number.

"What?" Piggot's hissed response was as much surprised as it was angry, the heat in her tone still present when she repeated herself. "What?"

Colin nodded his head, flicking through the stack of papers in front of him with a detached interest. "That's roughly the amount of adolescent males in Brockton Bay with natural, light blond hair and blue eyes between the ages of thirteen to eighteen with a height ranging from one hundred and sixty-five centimeters to one hundred and seventy-five centimeters. A rather large amount," Colin added, nodding again. "Interestingly, it more than doubles when you take into account those with dyed hair."

Piggot leaned back in her seat, a resigned expression spreading across her face. "So…"

"So, while he does fit the physical parameters, it's highly unlikely - bordering on impossibility - that Greg Veder is a parahuman, let alone a high level parahuman. At least, not one with any sort of power to take on Lung in a direct fight and live."

"I just don't get it. Everything seemed to point to him. The morning after the Lung fight, his mother called us… Who else could…" Piggot cut herself off with a sigh as she dropped her elbows onto the desk, her interlocked hands nearly level to her mouth once more. Her deepened slightly as she spoke, her eyes narrowed in frustrated confusion. "Were the results that conclusive?"

"Not at all. The findings were actually rather confusing." Armsmaster took a deep breath, the man pursing his lips as Piggot stared at him, even more confused. As she opened her mouth to speak again, Armsmaster quickly continued. "The device used, one Dragon created and that I improved on, had such a low margin of error that the idea of it missing the existence of any growth or development in the brain that differs from the norm is almost laughable."

The Protectorate leader cut himself off there, his teeth snapping shut as he openly grimaced for a moment, his eyes glazing over as he seemed to stare past Piggot. A moment later, he glanced down at the thick stack of papers resting on his lap, all of them held together in a manila folder. "In fact, the device managed to uncover several aspects of his brain that should have been harderto determine than the existence of any corona or gemma."

Piggot frowned, casting a sidelong glance at Armsmaster. "Such as?"

"While I don't have any classical training in neurology or medicine, I'd have to say that his synaptic plasticity and the frankly absurd amount of synaptic connections in his brain deserve to be noted. That, along with several highly developed lobes of his brain, with the stark exception of his prefrontal cortex," Armsmaster replied, shuffling through several sheets of paper. Pulling out several sheets from the stack on his lap, Armsmaster slid them forward over Piggot's desk, the woman picking them up to skim through.

"What am I looking at, Colin?" Piggot questioned, her gaze roaming across each sheet of paper without much interest. "What is all of this…" she gestured over the papers in front of her dismissively, "supposed to mean to me?"

"It means that Veder has the rapid learning capacity of a child less than half his age," Armsmaster remarked dispassionately, still looking through the papers in front of him. "Along with having an almost abnormally developed muscular system entirely out of place on anyone who isn't a professional, Olympic-level athlete."

"Meaning?" Piggot questioned further, her tone growing heated.

Glancing up at the woman who was growing more impatient by the second, Colin cocked his head to the side, a slight frown forming on his own face. "Meaning one of two things, most likely. As his body doesn't fit his unlikely Thinker diagnosis, it has to be expected that either Greg Veder is a sufficiently capable Bio-Tinker, or he's come into contact with a Bio-Tinker who's managed to stay under the radar for long enough."

Piggot raised a hand to her face, pinching her sinuses. Armsmaster raised an eyebrow as she began to mutter what was most likely a litany of profanities under her breath.

As the director finished, she raised her gaze to Armsmaster and let out a low breath, annoyed frustration written all over her face. "A Bio-Tinker, Colin? We're dealing with that on top of that White Knight situation?"

"I…" Armsmaster paused, hesitating as he looked back down at the bundle in his hands. He breathed in again, nodding. "I believe that it's a possibility, yes. The latter far more than the former, considering his lack of corona. He was possibly administered some sort of serum to enhance brain function, and likely another designed for either rapid muscle development or myo-augmentation."

Piggot huffed again, her hands forming fists on top of her desk. "Colin, are you sure about this? Is there a Bio-Tinker running rogue in this city?"

Armsmaster fell silent for a moment, the bearded man frowning at the director's hissed words. "Director, I have made clear that I believe it's a possibility. My opinion could be completely wrong. However, it still remains that it is the most plausible situation I can come up with."

Piggot cast her gaze off to the side before turning back to Armsmaster, her eyes narrowed. "Did you confront him?"

"Veder flatly denied it when asked, but there have been rumors circulating for years that such formulas are regularly sold on the black market. Either way, the H.I.I.D. isn't designed for chemical analysis in the first place. It's purpose is to scan certain aspects of the human and parahuman body in addition to the brain, all to determine the effects on parahuman abilities on the rest of the body; bone structure, cardiovascular system, electromagnetic signature…"

Armsmaster shook his head as the director continued to stare at him as if this situation was somehow his fault. "Expecting it to do bloodwork and DNA testing on top of everything else is asking for far too much."

"Then why on earth did you let him leave?" Piggot responded immediately, her face reddening. "Grill him. Get a blood sample. Make the boy piss in a cup, dammit! It was bad enough we had someone good enough to nearly kill Lung running around. Now, a Bio-TInker?" The large woman took in a heavy breath, her jowls trembling as she did so. "I requested you handle this for a reason, Colin! I wasn't aware you'd just let him walk!"

"And I wasn't aware that you wanted the Youth Guard to launch yet another lawsuit against the PRT," Armsmaster shot back, his words as blunt as his tone was hard. "If they were to catch word of this, it would only allow them more power over the PRT as a whole."

"The Youth Guard?" Piggot reddened further, her hand meeting the table again. "Those irritating…" Piggot's words devolved into another round of frustrated muttering, the woman pausing after a few seconds to take a deep breath. "... a group of soccer moms with an agenda, each and every single one of them bent on making my job a living hell. The boy isn't even a Ward yet. How would this be their problem?"

"Strictly speaking, any PRT involvement with a minor could be considered as part of their jurisdiction." Unconcerned by Piggot's mood, Colin gave the woman a flat look as he continued. "What they would view as the PRT attempting to set a legal precedent by expanding the definition of what could be classified a parahuman, would inherently be taken as an attempt to encroach on all non-parahuman minors."

Piggot looked the man across from her in the eye, a scowl still on her face. "I suppose," she replied, conceding the point. "Still, I doubt they'd be aware unless someone actively spread the information."

"Testing to determine what substances are in Greg Veder's blood would require a lengthy period of lab work, involving blood screening, hormone testing and possibly DNA sequencing. These are not processes we can handle in this building, further increasing the chances of his situation being brought to public attention. Our position is untenable as it is and Veder already has quite a low view of the PRT so for him to remain silent about it would be unlikely." Colin frowned, folding his hands in front of him as he continued to give the director a blank stare. "Frankly, I doubt he'd even consent to giving us his blood or DNA in the first place."

Piggot frowned, her fingers once again meeting the bridge of her nose. "Just tell me what you think then, Colin. I'd ask Renick but the man's out sick again." She scoffed, turning her head away from the parahuman in front of her for a moment. "Weakest constitution I've ever seen in a man, that one."

"My opinion?" Colin replied, pursing his lips. The man glanced at the director with a pensive expression, one hand at his chin. "I doubt you'd appreciate it."

Piggot's frown deepened, the woman scowling again at Armsmaster's dismissive tone. "I asked for your opinion, Colin. It doesn't matter if I like it or not. Now, what do you think?"

Colin Wallis sighed, his uninterested expression likely not winning him any points with the director. "We ignore him."

"What?" Piggot's response was as vehement as Colin had expected, the man doing his best not to openly sigh again in the face of her annoyance. "Ignore him? We potentially have a rogue Bio-Tinker in this city and you want me to ignore our only lead? You must be joking."

The Protectorate leader simply glanced at the director, tilting his head as if in recognition of her point. "That may be but our only real option is to ignore the fact that he exists. As of now, the PRT have no proof that Greg Veder is anything more than a genetic aberration," Colin continued, sliding forward a sheaf of papers with a disaffected expression. He turned his gaze to the side, ignoring the director's still-reddened face. "Of course, a case could be made to classify him as a parahuman, but the Youth Guard would most likely get involved, and regardless of the high chance of the PRT losing that case, the PR fallout would be disastrous in the public eye."

The director grimaced, her eyes narrowing further the longer she stared at Armsmaster, almost as if willing him to change his mind with the force of her will. "You're not entirely wrong."

Colin decided to take the concession as a victory, fighting the desire to smile in the stubborn woman's face. Successfully ignoring the urge, Armsmaster made to stand up. "If that's all, director?"

"Actually, it isn't," Piggot snapped back, the signs of irritation still present on her face. "Now, sit. We still have more to discuss."

The urge to smile was quickly replaced with a compulsion to scowl at the director, something that Colin didn't feel nearly as strongly about ignoring. His expression conveying every bit of his displeasure of being ordered around like an animal, Colin found himself doing just that, dropping himself back unto the seat opposite Director Piggot once more. "Yes, Director?"

"Have you spoken to our newest Ward recently?"

"Browbeat?" Confusion began to eat away at the displeasure he usually felt the more time he spent with Piggot in close quarters. "I recall speaking to him a few weeks ago. We discussed methods to increase his effectiveness in the field. Why is that a matter of discussion?"

"No, not him," Piggot said with a shake of her head, waving her hand dismissively at the mention of the PR-shy Ward. "I'm talking about the newest Ward."

As Colin continued to stare at her, Piggot decided to clarify. "Lady Bug."

"Ah, that one," Armsmaster blinked and tilted his head to the side as if he remembered something, but continued on without hesitating. "I wasn't aware that she chose to join."

"The girl didn't have much of a choice, really." One side of the director's mouth rose up in a proud smirk, the woman interlacing her hands together on top of her desk. "Once you and Hannah brought her in for medical treatment, she gave up her father's number without much of a fight. "We told him that she got hurt trying to take on Lung and the man's face just broke. I doubt I've ever seen a parent that enthusiastic about the Wards before." Her smirk widened a little more. "You have to appreciate concerned parents… at least when they make you job easier. Anyway, like I was saying..."

As she spoke, Armsmaster continued to nod slightly at his direct superior, seeking to give her the impression he was following along while he waited for her to finally let him leave. There were some days, he thought to himself as he gave the woman another nod, that the idea of ever joining the Protectorate seemed to be a mistake.

"Your thoughts, Colin?"

Sighing internally, Colin Wallis wondered if Dragon would appreciate him as a new member of the Guild. International heroics as the reclusive Tinker often described them sounded better and better to the Protectorate leader, especially when compared to dealing with the figure in front of him for yet another aggravating day. Freedom to Tinker without governmental oversight, the ability to make decisions without a powerless battle-axe constantly seeking to overstep her bounds while shrieking at others for doing the same, and most important of all, a feeling that he was actually stopping criminals.

Was that too much to ask?

He didn't think so.

Colin knew that he could never do it, of course. Regardless of his disdain for the woman breathing down his neck every single day, Brockton Bay was his city. Still, it never hurt to think about options. Pushing away the pointless thoughts of potential freedom with a shake of his head, Colin opened his mouth.

"Actually, Director…"