It was just another day for Sabine. Driving up the woods near Captain's Hill, on call for her dipshit boss, smoothly ignoring his greasy, lingering glances. But hey, at least it paid well! Did it bother her that her customers were nearly equally entitled versions of her boss? No. Showing around houses to corporate has-beens and sell-outs paid well. In this economy, and in Brockton Bay no less? No, their lusty attentions irked her, but not enough to bow out of this gig.
Besides, what would a photogenic girl with good genes (everyone she met said so, who was she to gainsay?) like her do for a living if not gigs like this? Become a StarCups barista? Hah!
Today, Sabine was on a mission. To hopefully sell the mansion her boss lovingly referred to as "Haemorrhage House". It was a massive pain in his head, his ass and a bleed in the company ledgers. Mr. Darell- her fat boss- had bought the entire property in the late 90's, at an all time low price of $650,000. The loaded family who owned it were downsizing as their shipping business had taken a fairly disastrous hit overseas when the water lizard Endbringer, Leviathan, had first emerged.
"The fools were quick to wipe their hands clean of such a jewel," Sabine was sure that Darell had thought exactly that back then, while rubbing his dumpling palms together. And why should he have thought otherwise? Back then, the Bay was on the rise, its tourism industry was flourishing. The shipping industry was booming and as the next best deep water port aside from New York, Brockton was the go-to choice for those who wished to dock in New Hampshire.
At the time, Darell was jubilant, yet all good things must come to an end. The rich bastards were old money, and knew exactly where the wind was blowing. They got out and likely established themselves, ground up, into some other lucrative industry, in another state, leaving Darell to clean up their droppings.
And in typical Darell style, he had sent her, his "best showing agent" to charm this new, supposedly young, affluent man into accepting a buying price of at least 400K. With the Brockton housing market in the state that it was, and the recent villain attack that had nearly beggared the few local realty businesses, the once stately manor was worth far, far less than what she was going to attempt to sell it for. 'No worries,' she thought to herself, 'That was what the tight-fitting red blouse and short hip-hugging black skirt was for. The poor sod wouldn't know what hit him.'
She gave her face a final lookover in the vanity mirror, smacking her lips. Satisfied, she picked up her black leather bag from the passenger seat and got out of her red Civic.
With practiced ease that can only be cultivated by showing around homes in all kinds of neighbourhoods, Sabine, in her 6 inch heels, navigated her way up uneven, elevated ground until she reached the wrought iron gates. She pressed down on the buzzer, and didn't have to wait too long for old Ben- the groundskeeper and pseudo-guard- to come and open the gates for her.
Poor Ben looked out of breath and quickly ushered her in. "Ma'am, there was a young man, he-"
Sabine nodded, "I know, I know, Darell informed me of his visit this very morning, so I didn't have the time to warn you beforehand." She raised an eyebrow at the shiny, black Audi A6 parked in the circular driveway. So, rich but not too rich? Or just one of those lowkey people? "And where is he now?"
Ben closed the gate and walked with her. "I brought him into the parlour. Should I make some coffee or tea. Maybe some juice too?"
"Yes, bring some of each. Bring some biscuits too."
"Right away, ma'am", Ben hobbled off to the kitchens.
Sabine opened the main door and walked through the quiet marble-floored halls. She opened the door to the parlour and for a half a minute, that honestly felt much longer, she stood there and gawked at the young man sitting one of the only four chairs in the entire mansion.
No way, Sabine thought, was this guy real. And if he was, then- Lord, thank you. This was way better than hitting on some greasy fatso and being forced to laugh at their crappy jokes.
Unless, he was secretly a serial killer who skinned girls like her alive and turned them into stuffed mannequins. No, don't go there, Sabine. Positive thoughts.
He was simply too good-looking to be a normal, human being. Too… well-crafted- if that made any sense. If someone told Sabine he was a cape whose power was being an incubus and turning women who looked upon him into bimbos, then honestly? She'd believe them. Because she was still staring dumbly at him.
The young man looked up from his phone and finally noticed her, he smiled brightly and got up- wow, he was tall. The man slowly approached her, her heart beat wildly in her chest and she felt the urge to flee. At that split second, she had chalked it up to nerves at meeting someone attractive. Looking back at this moment, Sabine would realise why her tummy flip flopped.
"Miss Meyers." Oh God, he had a sinful voice too. Did his parents grow him a lab or something?
The man held out his hand. Snapping her out of her reverie. She discreetly gulped and put on her most charming smile, shaking his hand once, as was polite. "Mr. Clarke, I presume?" Fucking hell, Sabine! Get it together, you dumbass. You're here to rip this hunk off, maybe even sleep with him, if needed. But! That comes later.
"You presume correctly. Nathan Clarke, Miss Meyers," he introduced himself. "I talked with Mr. Darell on the phone, and asked him if this property was still up for sale and he confirmed that it was. Told me you'd show me around. He sang some high praises about this place, so I'm definitely looking forward to it."
"Please sit, Mr. Clarke." She gestured to the chair, Sabine sat down on the one opposite. Crossing her legs and leaning forward, she let the fabric ride up her thigh. "Ah yes, Mr. Darell did mention that you were looking for a manor, with a view of Brockton from the western hills." Nathan listened attentively, his gaze did not stray for a moment, Sabine cursed internally. Either he was gay, asexual, too slow on the uptake (which didn't seem like the case) or the worst of all- a man with stubborn principles. Ugh, fine. She'll have to work harder then. Maybe he wasn't a leg guy.
"I can assure you, Mr. Clarke, you won't find a better one in all of New Hampshire." Ben arrived with a tray of refreshments.
"Wonderful," his eyes shone with mirth. They were strange eyes, Sabine thought. When compared to the rest of him, his eyes were the most common, a dark brown. Yet there was something unnerving about them. She tried not to think too much, after all, who gives a shit? She was here to sell him a devalued land, not gaze into his soul.
After some light back and forth, Sabine learnt that Nathan was not some young entrepreneur, but one who was born into wealth. She respected him at least for being honest, most of her young clients would rather spin a tall tale about their imagined struggles than admit that.
He was looking for a place in Brockton and wanted the best view away from the hubbub of the city, and apparently that was all there was to it. Bullshit, Sabine knew on some level. Clarke was smart and well-spoken, he certainly didn't seem like a man who threw his money at crappy ventures.
"Shall we move on with the tour then, Mr. Clarke?" She asked.
"Of course, Miss Meyers." He got up and she led him out.
She put a subtle sway in her hip as she walked ahead.
______________________________
From the window on the second floor study, I could see most of the Bay in the distance. "And what is your boss asking for this manor, Miss Meyers?" In the reflection I could see the pretty brunette's head jerk up at the sudden question. She squared up her shoulders and walked slowly, her heels tock-tocking on the hardwood floor.
"$470,000, Mr. Clarke." I turned around to find her closer than she needed to be. She half-whispered, "It's a one of a kind home, with a long, illustrious history, not to mention the land itself. I'm sure you can understand where we're coming from." She batted her eyes earnestly.
I nearly scoffed at this wily girl's statement. Did she think me an imbecile? Nearly half a mil for this place? My eyes narrowed and she backed away slightly, her heartbeat picking up.
"Please, do not insult my intelligence, Miss Meyers, I have a pretty good understanding of Brockton's housing market as well as the rate at which real estate has been on the decline since Lord's Port became unusable." I folded my arms. "Be honest with me."
Sabine Meyers gulped and pursed her lips, quietly thinking over it before speaking, "The least we can do is 430-"
"Let me tell you something, Sabine," she was once again caught off guard by the sudden change in the atmosphere. She stepped back as I stepped forward.
"Brockton Bay is on the thinnest of ice right now. Before Nemesis attacked, the local economy was held up by the barest of threads, the housing market was no different. For the past decade or so the most desperate fools came to this city, hoping to eke out whatever penny fortune they could manage to." I shook my head. "And it isn't going to get any better- or so the experts say."
"Hah, w-what do you mean?" Sabine stuttered.
"It's quite simple," I popped my finger joints, "Nobody is thinking of investing in this city anymore. Your whale of a boss is going out of business soon, and his other dirty friends are going to follow him to the pavement. Or if they're smart, they'll shut down any operations in the Bay and leave for brighter horizons." I smiled unkindly.
"You on the other hand?" She looked startled, the realisation was beginning to set in. "You're a smart girl, my dear. You do realise what that means, yes? The thought might've crossed your mind at least once, hasn't it?"
Sabine jerkily nodded. I turned around to gaze out the window, waiting for the agent to organise her thoughts.
"Why are you telling me this?" She spoke, her voice no longer having the same fake warmth in it.
"All of that property has to go somewhere, doesn't it? They'll sell whatever they have under their belt soon enough. Some of them are investors, landlords who don't expect to receive any proper rent when the people are on edge and the law and order in the city is so fucked that there's hardly any department ready to pursue and evict the tenants. Not this week at least." I chuckled.
Her eyes widened. "You're not going to stop at buying this place." I smiled, shaking my head.
"But it's a dump!" Sabine couldn't contain her frustration and confusion any longer. "Why are you investing in a dump?"
"Indeed. It's a dump, Miss Meyers, but that won't be the case for too long." I could see that it was hard for her to accept my words for what they truly were- a promise.
She finally sighed and looked up at me with narrowed eyes, "And what part do you see me playing in your scheme, Mr. Clarke?"
I hummed, "Darell will ask you to join him in pursuit of his future ventures. You will decline, and resign once this purchase goes through. I will offer you a position in my new enterprise as a secretary/manager at first- though I'm certain a promotion wouldn't be out of the question. What do you say?"
Sabine contemplated my offer for a few moments before nodding. "As long as I get a cheque beforehand, in case you decide you've changed your mind."
I laughed at her sheer gall. "That would be foolish of me, you see- I'm buying this place for nearly a quarter of what Darell was asking for it. And on top of that, you were the agent who showed me around and convinced me to buy it. Giving you fifty grand as a 'gift' would raise all sorts of alarms in the system. I don't want that at all, and neither do you. Too many busybodies are like flies on fresh meat, and I hate flies."
Sabine grit her teeth, frustrated and embarrassed.
"This is an offer made in good faith, nothing else. In this city, there are plenty of people willing to work. Take it or leave it." My tone brokered no argument.
"Fine. I'll trust your judgement and vision, Mr. Clarke." She shook my hand.
"Nathan, please, we're going to be working together after all," I smiled and she responded with a tremulous one of her own. We hashed out most of the purchase details, forms were filled and signed off. Now all they needed was Darell's signature.
Sabine was unsure if her boss would sign off on such a low amount, but I assured her, Darell had no choice in the matter.
As we were leaving the property, I turned to Sabine, "Oh, and Sabine? Avoid going to the office after our deal falls through. It would be for the best if you weren't seen anywhere near it after resigning."
She looked confused but nodded and left.
I stayed for a bit, assuring Ben that, no he wouldn't lose his job, and yes, I'd be hiring proper guards to protect the property. Ben was happy to hear of it and very thankful.
Believing that I had driven off into the city, he closed the gate. I cloaked myself and passed through the walls.
Brockton Bay was an old city. It had a group of hills to the west, a curtain of mountains behind them, and a natural deep water port to the east.
It was also built on a substantial aquifer, most people knew this. What most people didn't know was how deep, massive and interconnected the network of caves and tunnels beneath the city were. Allfather built Medhall over them, smoothing out the 'creases and edges' and turning a few of them into escape routes. Marquis had one in his basement, and while it would've been amusing to take up residence in his crib and watch Carol freak out when she found out- I just didn't have it in my heart to use my powers to throw out the happy family who had been living there for the past five years.
Standing before an unassuming, red brick cellar wall, I pressed lightly on one of the bricks. There was a grating sound and a satisfying soft click. I grinned. Did I absolutely need these tunnels? No, but I definitely wanted to maintain a tight grip over them. They were a nice little bonus.
______________________________
10:30 am, Thursday, Brockton Bay. (Five days after Nemesis' Rampage.)
Two days after her resignation, Sabine was flicking through the channels when the news caught her eye.
"In light of recently surfaced information through anonymous tips regarding possible illegal and villainous activities, a joint force of the FBI and PRT raided the Medhall building this morning. Sources confirm that the pharmaceutical company is under heavy suspicion of operating as a cover for the villainous organisation known as 'Empire 88', infamous for supporting controversial beliefs such as racial segregation under its previous parahuman leader- Allfather, and recently deceased leader- Kaiser.
"Let's ask our on-the-scene correspondent Matthew Fifield," the news lady smiled. "How's it looking for Medhall, Matthew?"
"Terrible, Denise," Matthew's lips quirked upwards for a moment. "The agents are turning that building inside-out. Though, from my observation, and short interviews with the local police, it looks like the FBI and PRT have not made any high-profile arrests- parahuman or otherwise, though there have been plenty of men with questionable tattoos being cuffed. We're all waiting on the official statements and I suspect they'll be coming soon."
"Woah." What the fuck? Medhall was a cover for the Empire? Shit.
Her doorbell rang. She nearly gasped, the sudden sound taking her by surprise. She wasn't expecting anyone. Who was this?
Sabine was about to get up before she saw a text message from an unknown number pop up on her phone. Act surprised. Lie and Deny, was all it said. Then the message deleted itself. She was freaked out now.
She got up and opened the door, finding two police officers standing at her doorstep. Her heart leapt in her chest.
"Officers?" She didn't need to act, she was genuinely surprised… and afraid. "How can I help you?"
"Are you Sabine Meyers?" one asked.
"Yes, I am her," she tried to keep her cool.
"May we come inside and ask you a few questions, Miss Meyers?"
"Yea. Sure. Please do." She invited them in, seeing as their badges looked legit.
"How can I help you officers?" She really wanted to know what the fuck was going on.
"Were you previously employed by a man named John Darell of Bright Sun Estate?" The first one asked.
"I- I was", she answered. "Until a few days ago. I resigned."
"And why did you resign from the company?" This sounded very much like an interrogation.
"Dissatisfaction with my job. It was tedious, and exhausting. I wanted to pursue other opportunities," it wasn't exactly a lie but it worked well enough.
The officers looked at each and nodded. Then they unloaded the news onto her. How John Darell was wanted for fraud, tax evasion, blackmail, and sexual harassment. They advised her that if she knew of his whereabouts or was a victim of his advances, that she should let the department know. A case was being built against the fleeing man. And if he contacted her, she should inform them immediately.
It took all it was in Sabine to appear surprised and shocked. She nodded along with the officers' advice and saw them out.
Closing the door behind her, she grimaced. What the fuck did she get into? Fear crept up on her. The strange message that deleted itself, Nathan Clarke and his offer of employment, his advice to stay away from the real estate office- it all painted a very concerning picture. Though, Sabine was simultaneously thankful for the helping hand he had offered. She had declined Darell's offer to join him in another company back then, and he looked like he wanted to throttle her. She sighed in relief. Aiding a wanted man was not her thing.
She made some coffee and was about to change the channel when she saw the headlines. The coffee cup violently trembled in her hands, yet her grip was so tight that it didn't fall.
"Boat Graveyard ships vanish into thin air. Eyewitnesses claim Nemesis responsible. Protectorate cordon off Port."
"Oh." Was all she could manage. It was only upon sitting down and staring at the news outlet freaking out about Nemesis for five whole minutes, that she pieced together a horrifying puzzle. A puzzle that bothered her ever since she met Nathan Clarke. The strange feeling she had felt before came rushing in full force. Her face dropped into her hands.
Sabine was not an idiot. Either Nathan Clarke was in cahoots with Nemesis or…
She knew she was in deep shit. Deep, dark and dangerous shit. She had shaken hands with the Devil and never thought much of it. Was there a fine print, and did it even matter?
The Devil in question, hovered over a twisted, rotten mess of a town surrounded by smooth grey walls. The PRT southern outpost guarded the gates into the hellscape. Creatures straight out of fantasy novels roamed the streets, from goblins to kobolds and strange worm-like creatures played hide and seek with the overworld. Twisted masses of flesh with screaming faces rolled around and ate dirt, shitting out rocks. Right in the center of the city, trolls and giants with squarish heads guarded the moat gates into a tall medieval-looking castle on a protruding island, where a river had split for a mile before merging.
He took a single breath and cursed. The stench was revolting. He descended like an avenging housekeeper, finally here to rid the world of putridness.