chapter 4
Alea Iacta Est
Part Four: Looking for Group
Taylor
I tried to control my reaction, but my eyes still widened in shock. "I – what?"
"You've got powers," the girl repeated, her voice steady. "So have I. I'm recruiting for a team. Are you interested?" Her expression matched her voice, calm and confident; a little unsettling on someone who didn't even look to be in high school yet.
Hastily, I shook my head. "No, I think you have the wrong person. I don't have powers." Who is this person? How did she find out?
Her voice was relentless. "One of my powers is to find the right person for the job. No matter what the job is. The 'job' I'm looking to recruit people for right now is to be a part of a superhero team. You pinged on my radar as soon as I saw you. Your power is to tell the future, by rolling dice or other random data generators. You would be a tremendous asset."
I blinked. She actually knows my power. Dammit, I only ran the numbers for during school hours. I didn't check for trouble after school. "What if I'm not interested in joining your little superhero club? What if your power's wrong?"
Her expression never changed. "I don't think it is. Are you willing to at least listen to what I have to say?"
God, I want to just roll the dice now, and see which way I should jump. "Uh, can I at least think about this?"
"Take as long as you like." She extended her hand; in it was a folded piece of paper. "Ring this number when you make up your mind."
Numbly, I took it, and unfolded it. In a neatly printed hand, it read:
'MANAGEMENT'
(I might change that if I think of a better name)
After that it had a phone number, and a final sentence: "Destroy this note."
I looked up from the slip of paper. "Uh, what if -"
But she was gone. In the few seconds I had spent perusing the note, she had slipped out of sight. Looking around, I couldn't see her at all.
"What if what, Taylor?"
It was Dad's voice; I turned to see him standing in the doorway of the post office.
"Uh, nothing, Dad," I replied, then thought better of the evasion. "Did you see a girl, about yea high? She was here just now."
"No, I don't think so," he responded, a puzzled tone to his voice. "Why, is there something wrong?"
I frowned. "Not sure. Can we go home now?"
"Sure thing." He led the way to the car and unlocked it for me.
I got in, then pulled the dice bag from my pocket. "I need a flat surface. I need to make a roll."
"What's the matter, Taylor?" he asked as he folded himself into the car. "What's happened?"
I took a breath, then related the incident as precisely as I could, handing him the piece of paper when I was finished.
He read it through, twice, carefully. "Well," he murmured. "That's kind of interesting."
"Interesting? It's terrifying." I held up my hands; they were shaking. "Dad, she knew my powers. Just from looking at me."
"Does she know who you are? Did she address you by name?"
Tentatively, I shook my head. "No. No, she didn't."
"Well, that's a start." He passed me the package that he'd gotten from the post office. "There's your flat surface. Roll away."
I opened the dice bag and pulled out the three d10s that I'd been using up till then. "Chances … " I began, trying to think it through. "Chances that I'll be better off if I call her back and accept her offer."
I rolled the dice. They came up with a three, a six and a seven.
"That … doesn't look too good," Dad observed.
"Better than you'd think," I disagreed. "That's seventy-three point six percent."
"Of you being better off for accepting her offer," he noted.
"Yeah." I shot him a worried glance as I gathered up the dice. "I still want to think about this for a bit."
"I don't blame you, Taylor," he agreed. "I don't blame you at all." He started the car. "Let's go home."
Dinah
I watched the car pull out of the parking lot. The man and his daughter had sat talking for a few moments; they were most likely discussing me and my offer to her. I wasn't worried; her intent showed reluctant acceptance toward the idea. She would probably think about it for a while, then call me back.
Well, I think that went reasonably smoothly.
My disappearing act hadn't been much of a trick; as soon as her attention had been diverted by the note, I had ducked into the post office, just before her father had emerged. His attention had been focused on the package he was carrying, so I had escaped his notice. I hadn't wanted to be there when she spoke to him about me; besides, I figured that a slight air of mystery couldn't hurt.
Pulling out my notepad, I wrote "Dice Girl" and put a tick next to the name. Closing it again, I dropped it into my bag and headed for the bus stop; I had already wandered around the mini-mall and found no other candidates. My all-day bus pass and I were going to visit every major after-school hangout for teenagers before I was done.
Still, encountering the girl on my first stop had to be a good omen. I have a good feeling about this.
Taylor
"I'm not so sure about this," Dad told me. "Who was that girl, anyway?"
"I have no idea," I admitted. "She never gave me her name. Just the note with 'Management' written on it."
"I have an idea how we can find out," he offered.
I looked at him, confused. "How?"
"Open the package," he advised me; reminded of it, I set to work pulling off the wrapping.
It came away to reveal a featureless cardboard box, which I opened. Inside … "What the heck are these?"
There were a dozen of them, each in its own little niche in the box. Each of them was a little over an inch in diameter, bulky plastic shapes. Almost like d20s except … "Dad, these things have letters on them."
"Well, fancy that," he observed blandly. "Will wonders never cease?"
Snorting at his dry tone, I plucked one from the box and examined it more closely. It had more than twenty sides; looking at it carefully, I counted thirty. All the letters from A to Z, plus an ampersand, a hyphen, a full stop and one blank side.
"Ooh," I murmured. "I can work with these."
"Well, I hope so," he replied with a grin. "Otherwise I might regret having ordered them in. Happy birthday, Taylor."
"My birthday isn't till June," I told him absently as I picked more dice from the box and rolled them in my hands.
"Then merry Christmas."
"That was last month."
"Very late Christmas," he amended. "Whatever. I hope you like them."
I smiled at him. "Thanks, Dad. I do. They're great."
"Good." He nodded toward them. "So, can they tell us the name of the mystery girl?"
"Oh, good point." I emptied the dice into my lap and pulled out the little dividers as well, then scooped up as many as I could fit into my hand. In the event, this was four of them. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to roll them inside the box. "What will I find out the name of this girl to be?"
The dice clattered into the box and came to a stop; I read them off as D-I-N-A.
"That's an odd name," I muttered.
"Maybe there's more to it," Dad offered.
"Oh. Yeah." I scooped up the dice and prepared to roll them again. "Uh, the rest of her name?"
Once more, the dice rolled on the cardboard. This time, I read them as H-blank-A-full stop.
"Okay, her name's Dinah then. Last name starts with A. Huh. I'm actually kind of surprised that worked."
"You're surprised," Dad observed. "I'm just plain impressed."
"Hmm." Replacing the divider,I put the dice away, and pulled out my standard dice bag again. Out came the three d10s. "Chances that we'll be able to help people and do some good if I join this team of Dinah's?"
The dice rolled across the box; to my practised eye, they came out as 83.2%.
"Okay," I mused. "And the chance that they'll be able to help people and do some good if I don't join?" Again, I rolled the dice, and stared at the result. Thirty-six point one percent. Crap.
Dad hadn't been watching the rolls, given that he was driving, but now he glanced across at my face. "I know that look, Taylor. That's the look that says, 'I'm going to do the right thing if it kills me'. I've seen it on your mom's face too often to mistake it."
I looked up at him, worried. "I don't think I've got a choice, Dad. If I join, it raises their overall chances of being a successful team by nearly fifty percent."
"You've always got a choice," he pointed out. "Always. If you don't want to do it, then you don't have to."
Okay, one more question. "If I don't join the team, what chance will I have of using my power to make a real, positive difference in the city?"
The dice rolled. The numbers came up. I grimaced and scooped the dice up.
"What did you get?" asked Dad.
"Nine point six three percent," I replied, putting them away. "So if I want to help people, and if I want to help Dinah's team help people … "
"You'll have to join," Dad agreed, as we pulled into our driveway.
"Ugh," I muttered. "I hate being forced into things."
"Well," he commented as he turned the engine off, "you know I'll support you in whatever you do. But I would like to meet this Dinah at some point. Just to make sure she knows what she's doing. Such as not planning to put you into danger."
"I'll second that," I agreed fervently. "I just got out of a dangerous environment." I paused, thoughtful. "Though you know … I could just check every day." I mimed rolling dice. "'Is there going to be a problem today?'"
"Huh." He rubbed his chin. "You could, at that."
I grinned at him and hefted the box of alphabet dice. "Okay, let's get inside so I can test these things out some more."
"Sounds like a plan."
Dinah
If I find anyone else, it'll be in the Market.
I stepped off the bus, adjusted my backpack, and started off along the Boardwalk. The larger shopping malls had their attractions, but the cheaper prices of some of the shops within the Market were a definite draw. Add in the subtle air of almost-danger from the patrolling enforcers – they weren't quite security guards, and they weren't quite cops – and teens were almost guaranteed to flock to the place.
I personally didn't see the thrill in it, but I wasn't there for that. I was there to see if any of the thrill-seeking teens were parahumans; more specifically, parahumans who would fit into my paradigm for a superhero team. Spotting them would be no trick at all; my power would point them out to me, just as I had been guided to speak to the girl outside the post office. Talking to them was a bit more of a challenge, as my power only gave me broad hints as to which approach to take.
If I can find someone who's good at talking to people, my problems will be solved.
Casually, I strolled down the walkway between the shops, my hand in my pockets, obviously window-shopping to any casual observer. Which I was, in a way. But it wasn't bargains that I was shopping for.
And then my phone rang. Ah. I bet that's Dice Girl. I stopped to get the phone out of my backpack, then answered it. "Hello?"
"Hello, Dinah."
The voice was that of 'Dice Girl', but I was more than a little surprised to hear her address me by name. But then …
"Ah, hi. You've uh, checked me out, I see." After all, I had wanted to recruit her because of how useful her powers could be.
"You could say that. Your name is Dinah Alcott and you're the mayor's niece."
"Your dice told you that? I'm impressed."
"Nope. My Dad did. He knows your family, vaguely."
"Ah. Right. Still impressed. So, what's the verdict?"
"I ran the numbers. If I join the team, we could really make a difference together. Without me, you've got a less than forty percent chance to make it work."
I blinked. "That bad, huh?"
"Yeah. That bad. Worse, if I try to go it alone, I've got a less than ten percent chance of helping people and changing things for the better."
That sounded hopeful. "So … you'll be joining?"
"I will be, but the numbers tell me that I need to be more than just a member. I need to have a say in leadership."
"Wait, what? You've only just heard about this thing, and already you want to run it?"
"Have a say in how it's run. There's a difference. You say you can manage people; that's fine. But there's more to leading a team than managing people."
"Ah, right, now I see what you're getting at. Well, we can definitely talk about that."
"Good. Well, you're going to spot your next prospect really soon. But she'll be a tough sell."
"How do you know that?" If the girl told me that I was going to spot a prospect soon, then I would trust her in the matter; I began to look around.
"I ran the numbers. Five … four … three … two … one … now."
On 'now', my eyes fell on the prospect she was telling me about. Just walking out of a shop ahead of me. In fact, there were three prospects; a tall black guy, a shorter white guy with a pretty face and curly hair, and a blonde with her hair done up in a complicated braid. It was the blonde I was looking at; the other two only registered as vague prospects, given that they had loyalty elsewhere, and would be hard to break away. The blonde also had the outside loyalty, but with her it was a lot weaker; I was pretty sure there was resentment there. Forced into working for someone?
Not for the first time, I wished my power supplied me with names; not knowing who they were loyal to could be a problem. Wait. "Yeah, I see her," I replied into the phone. "She's with a couple of others. They look like a group. Maybe a team."
"Wait, you mean other parahumans?"
"That's what my power's telling me."
"I don't get it. I only came up with one prospect, a girl."
"Well, there's one girl and two guys. But they're all three powered, so I'm guessing they're a team of some sort. They've got a group loyalty, anyway."
"So what do you want me to do?"
"Well, you know how you found out my name ..." I paused meaningfully.
She didn't take long to get it. "You want me to find out her name too?"
"If you can, as well as the team she's currently with." If I can look her up on PHO, that might be useful ...
"Okay, one second." There was a pause, and then a clatter of plastic on wood. "Okay, I'm reading her name as 'Lisa'."
"Okay, great, that's awesome. What's her team name?"
"Ow, dammit."
"What? What happened?"
"Got a cramp in my hand. Ow."
"What does that mean?"
"Not sure, but I think it means that I just tried to ask a question that my power can't answer. Or won't answer."
"What do you mean, your power can't or won't answer it?"
"I'm not sure. Sometimes I get this cramp. Maybe it's because I'm trying to ask a question that I normally couldn't get the answer of. Maybe when I use my power, it's checking stuff that I would've learned in the future without my power. And I'm not going to find that answer out without using my power, so I can't find the answer out."
"So you can't find out stuff that you wouldn't have found out normally?" This could make things difficult.
"I guess."
"Well, thanks for the name, anyway. Uh, by the way, talking about names; you know mine. What's yours?"
There was a muffled snort of amusement on the other end of the line. "What, you're only just asking me now?"
I felt my cheeks heating up. "I've had things on my mind, okay?"
"Heh. True. It's Taylor. Taylor Hebert."
"Okay, cool. Nice to meet you, Taylor."
"Likewise, I guess." I heard another clatter of plastic on wood. "Hm."
"What?"
"You'll probably find your pitch a lot easier if you talk to her away from the others."
I smiled dryly; I'd already figured that one out. "Yep, thanks. Anyway, I'll talk to you later."
"See you then."
I ended the call, and was just about to store Taylor's number on my phone when I realised that Lisa had increased her pace, and moved ahead of the other two. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I moved up and past them; they paid me no attention at all, which was perfect for me. Up ahead, there came the flicker of Lisa's blouse as she rounded a corner. When I lost line of sight on her, my power also lost track of her; all I caught was a certain intensity of purpose. She wanted to do something, but I wasn't sure what; my power only measured intent that specifically had to do with the job at hand.
Hurrying onward, I rounded the corner as well, but slowed when I realised that Lisa was nowhere to be seen. Darn, I've lost her. Moving along, I pulled my phone from my pocket again; if Taylor could tell me where she'd gone, maybe I could catch up -
- and then an access door opened, and Lisa yanked me inside. Closed the door. Slammed me up against the wall.
Oh crap oh crap oh crap.
Taylor
I put the phone back in the cradle and went to sit on the sofa with Dad.
He looked at me as I sat down. "So what was that about? I heard you rolling dice on the kitchen table."
"Oh, that was Dinah," I replied. "She wanted me to give her some information." I shook my hand; the cramp was just about gone, thankfully.
"So she's looking for other recruits, huh?"
"I guess so," I agreed. "I hope she's careful about it."
"Yeah, me too." He paused. "That friend of yours from Arcadia. Andrea, was it?"
"No." I shook my head. "Annette. Her name's stuck in my head because of Mom, you know?"
"Yeah, that's the funny part," he mused.
"Funny how?" I asked.
He smiled reminiscently. "Back when I was just a bit older than you, I went to the college to see about signing up for summer classes. I kind of met this girl in line, and we struck up a conversation. Once we'd settled our business in admissions, we kept on talking."
"Wait," I interrupted. "Was this … Mom?"
"Yes, it was." Another smile. "We must have talked for an hour before she invited me to the Club for a meal and a drink. While I was there, she introduced me to a friend of hers called Andrea. Andrea Campbell. And she had red hair, just like your friend Annette."
"Wait a minute," I blurted. "Campbell. That name sounds familiar. I think it might be Annette's last name too."
"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," he observed. "Did you ask her about where she got her name from?"
"Um, yeah. She said that she was named after her mom's best friend, after the friend got married. And that her mom is kind of a free spirit. So I guess that means after Annette's mom got pregnant, she just had Annette and didn't bother getting married."
Dad snorted. "Free spirit. Yeah. That fits, all right. As far as I could tell, Andrea did exactly what Andrea wanted. She never hurt a soul, but she couldn't be bothered with things like shame, either."
There was a tone in his voice that I'd never heard before. "Wait a minute, Dad." I paused, not sure how to word this. "Did you and Andrea … were you and her -"
"Oh god no!" He burst out laughing. "No, she flirted with me, but she flirted with everyone. No, when we met, it was your mom she was involved with."
I blinked, as my worldview shifted. It was a very weird feeling. "Wait. You're saying that my mom and Annette's mom were -" I shut my mouth. That was not something I was going to say out loud.
Solemnly, he nodded. "Yeah. They were. I didn't even realise until after, of course. Your mom and I were an item, and Andrea just … accepted it. Smiled, and wished us the best of luck. Even had a hug and a kiss for me." He sighed, a little nostalgically. "She made our lives a lot more fun. And a lot weirder. We did a lot of stuff together, but she moved to Boston in Anne-Rose's last year. I wonder what happened to her."
"Well, I could ask Annette," I offered, still a little dazed at the revelations he had given me.
"I suppose you could," he agreed. "Just … you know … be tactful about it, okay? Just in case it's not the same person."
I smiled and opened the dice box. With three of the alphabet dice in my hand, I leaned forward. "Tomorrow, will I find out that Annette's mom is Dad's friend Andrea?"
"Wait -" Dad began, but it was too late; I had rolled the dice. He stared at the result as they clattered to a halt. With a Y, an E and an S, the answer was all too easy to make out.
Lisa
In my years on the streets, I had learned to pay attention when my powers told me that I was being watched or followed. Admittedly, I hadn't been paying quite enough attention when Coil's goons got their hands on me, but then, those had been professionals, and I had been focused on stealing that one guy's phone. In retrospect, not my finest hour.
Since becoming a professional supervillain, of course, I'd had to up my game. Not only did I have to keep an eye out for people who I'd wronged in my private life, but there was always the chance of someone recognising us for who we were when we were out of costume. The chance of any sort of facial recognition was minimal for three of the four of us; Brian wore a helmet with a full-face visor, Alec had a mask that covered most of his face, and I'd carefully chosen a mask that hid my freckles and changed the shape of my face. I also took care to wear my hair differently and pick out clothes that didn't evoke the lavender and black of my costume; unwritten rules or no, there is such a thing as giving people too many clues.
Rachel, of course, was the one weak point in all of that. As a known face, a publicly wanted villain, we had to take care not to appear on camera with her too obviously in our civilian identities. She had that dog mask thing she wore when out as Bitch, but sometimes she forgot it, sometimes she pulled it off, and sometimes she just didn't care.
The fact also remained that her face and identity were known to the PRT and police; she could walk her dogs along the Boardwalk a dozen times without trouble, but on the thirteenth time a police cruiser might spot her, or she might see someone mistreating a dog, and then it would be on for one and all. Which was why she wasn't with us at the Market; she hadn't really wanted to come, and there was actually a fair chance that someone would recognise her and call it in. Or sic the enforcers on us; this would not turn out well, specifically for the enforcers, but we didn't need that sort of publicity, or the chance of having our faces becoming known as well.
But even with all the precautions, I was still keeping a certain level of awareness up, and shortly after we left the video game store, I started to get that feeling. Turning as if to listen to the good-natured argument between Brian and Alec as to the respective merits of their favourite games, I glanced behind us.
There she was; a girl, twelve years old, straight brown hair. She was talking on the phone, and pretending to look anywhere but at us -
Not looking at us. Looking at me.
Talking on the phone. Talking to someone who knows something about me. Getting information.
Not interested in the others. Just in me.
Doesn't know me, doesn't know much about me. Knows I have powers.
Interested in me because of my powers.
Knows I have powers because she has powers.
Has powers but isn't a current cape.
Wants to talk? to me.
I didn't have enough in the way of data to determine why she wanted to talk to me, but it wasn't hard to work out that she didn't want to talk to me in the company of the other two. Nor, I thought, did she mean me any harm.
For a moment, I considered cluing the other two in and grabbing the girl, but I decided not to go there. After all, there was her mystery confederate, the one who knew something about me. I'd be much better at handling an interrogation without the other two getting in the way, anyway.
So I hurried my pace, moving forward faster. She followed, as I knew she would.
Around the corner, with an access doorway just up ahead – rarely locked, try the handle, opens smoothly, duck on in – and then I waited counting seconds in my head. Footsteps approached the door, of the right weight and speed to be her. Flinging the door open, I grabbed her; she barely had time to yelp before I dragged her into the access corridor and closed the door again.
Inches shorter than me, she was pounds lighter. She wasn't any kind of fighter, which was good, because nor was I. Her hands weren't instinctively reaching for weapons; she wasn't armed. Good.
Pushing her up against the wall, I put my face close to hers.
"Okay, talk. Why were you following me?"
End of Part Four