Orb Weaver: Plague, Chapter 2

The most likely way to detect her would be through the school. A student suffering headaches would go to the nurse, and the school system was not… high priority.

Or to put it differently, a school official talking in the Bay was less likely to suffer consequences than say, a doctor violating HIPAA.

I started examining the school records and well, what did you know. Someone I knew was in charge of the student health and safety compliance office of the Bay.

The Parahuman age had brought changes. A low level Master could create issues that might seem ignorable at first. So the American School Safety Act had mandated that medical issues and possible parahuman issues be tracked.   It had been born in 2001, after a young girl triggered with the ability to convince people to like her. A minor ability, Master Two at most, but it had led to a chain of events, because she didn’t really understand it herself, that saw forty children injured, ten seriously, and a school burned to the ground.

It didn’t apply to Sophia, because she was already known, and I… I was a little more covert. I wonder if putting Patricia Blackwell in the office was a work of quiet karma on someone’s part. It was the office where you would only be noticed if you screwed up. The place you collected a paycheck knowing you’d retire from the office you’d just walked into.

I didn’t like feeling vindictive, but I would be lying if I didn’t say I felt a little bit of vindication.

Still, it was time to visit.

But first some research.

*****

I arrived at the Bay District Office in full get up, walking into the front office, and nodding at the nervous secretary. The place was busy, with signs on one board and an LED screen letting parents know which alternate school the children from the two elementary schools still closed due to the explosion would have to go to.

“Hello,” I said. “I have a Freedom of Information Request” to file with the Office of Student Health and Safety Compliance?”

“I, ah, that’s… private.”

“I agree. But my request is for methods, not direct identities, which is not confidential material.” I smiled. “And in any case, that would be  a duty for the office itself, would it not?” 

She looked at me, and blinked, then suddenly stiffened. “You’re The Investigator.”

“Indeed.” Right, for most people, the Investigator was a normal cape, until she’d managed to bring down the guy who blew up the factory.

I looked rather different in person than I did in PHO fanart.

“Um, ah, are you carrying any weapons?”

I had left them at home. After all, it didn’t take much research to note the metal detectors.

“I bring only what is within me.”

She stiffened and moments later I had a ID badge and room number.

The OSHSC office was in the rear of the building, with small cubical offices, and I strode to the director’s office.

Patricia Blackwell. She looked more tired than annoyed as she looked up at me.

“You have a FOIA?”  She looked at me, and for a moment I wondered if she knew… but no. The Investigator might be nearly open as far as most capes and the PRT were concerned, but not civilians—and many civilians tried to avoid learning that.

Well other than Greg. Fortunately, he had evidently learned—or maybe the fact that he was now in charge of the E-gaming club, which included a lot more work than you assumed, was keeping him busy.

And making him feel wanted.

Ironically, the fact that PHO said I was a Thinker gave me more, not less protection. A Brute might beat you up—if he was willing to take the heat. But Thinkers and Masters had near mythical reputations for being able to casually and untraceable destroy someone’s life.

“Yes. It complies with both Federal and State laws.”

“We are not a federal agency—“

“No, but you are funded by one. That means that any activities recieving direct funding and assistance from the federal government must comply with legitimate FOIA requests.”

“You want…” She stared. “Our quarterly reports on health issues in our schools?”  She blinked. “I cannot tell you the identity of any studen—“

“I am not asking you to. You produce reports with all identification scrubbed, and they are public records, albeit not online.”

“Why?”

“Ms. Blackwell, I have reason to believe that someone triggered in the school system, and their identity was outed to a criminal rather than the PRT.”

If this office was compromised, I’d just said something incredibly stupid. Something that would demand a response.

Hopefully. But that wasn’t my only course of action.

“I… I—“

“I would prefer that you keep that last quiet.” I told her. “After all, a parahuman who learns someone is intruding into their business might… be unhappy.” Her face paled slightly.

Okay, maybe I was still working out some things about Winslow. I decided to toss her a bone. “But they would be unconcerned with someone who simply did their job and had no more contact.”

“I… I’ll have to send it up to my superior.”

“Of course, Ms. Blackwell. Have a nice day.”  I smiled and I left. Time for part II.

The rest of the day, I spent out. I had called in sick, and given that I was quickly amassing enough credits for early graduation, the secretary was unconcerned. Not from apathy, but trust.

Moving so fast was… a little risky but I could still access the school as a tutor and to be honest, mandated school times was crimping my activities a bit.

But now it was time to walk on the Boardwalk, bust a few shoplifters and see how Janna Clarice was doing. I’d helped put her storefront together and had chatted with her, but well, my days had been full.

“Investigator!” She said, a smile on her face. Her store was busy, and I noticed a greater number of stock figurines.

“Branching out?”

“I was able to afford time at a 3d frabrication shop,” she said. “Not everyone can afford an original, but they like this, and…” She looked around. “You were right! I got a contract to supply the PRT gift shop with figurines!” She paused. “But I’m happy you’re here… I have something to ask you.”

“Yes?”

We walked into the shop and I saw figurines of heroes. There was a diorama, Krewe and her Numbers, the glass of the Numbers tinted dark, carrying two children away from a fire. Bulwarck putting a fire out Armsmaster fighting Lung…

And then I stopped and blinked. She had sketches of me.

“Ah…”

“I’ve been getting requests.” She said. “People know you helped with that fire, even if the PRT isn’t really saying much…”

“I played a small role,” I told her. “But I’m surprised…”

“You aren’t scary.” Janna nodded. “You help. But, I mean, it’s up to you, I can pay—“

“No need, ” I told her. “I am quite content, and the paperwork can be… difficult.” I tilted my head. “But if you feel bound, I think there are a number of charity groups helping those who lost their homes in the explosion?”

“Are you sure?”

“I love the Bay, and this will help it in a number of ways.” And I wasn’t lying. Also, it helped promote The Investigator as a helpful, quiet, nonthreatening Cape. What I needed.

I spent some more time talking to her, and then ate an early dinner. After all, it was time for me to meet Ms. Blackwell.

*****

Patricia had just stopped her car when there was… a rumble. From all around. It was dark, she couldn’t see what was making the noise—

“Eep.”  At the end of the driveway, a dark specter stood, a cloud of darkness twisting around it, little orbs of light flickering in and out of existince.

“Ms. Blackwell, I find that you may be in the employee of another. I hope that you have not forgotten our agreement.”

How did he—“no!  She—I mean, the Investigator just came for a FOIA request. I can…” She swallowed. The Investigator wasn’t as scary as Orb Weaver, but… pissing off any kind of Cape… “I can deny it.”

“No. If the Little Detective seeks to involve herself in matters that are not hers to examine, I see no reason to spare her the consequences of her actions.”

“She is just—“

“I look out into the strands of possibility. A child triggers in the school system, and yet somehow, before her parents, before the PRT, another knows. The Little Detective is curious, who could do such a thing? And so, once again, she comes into my web.”

Oh God, I’m dead, I’m dead twice over. A third cape, and Orb Weaver seems to not like The Investigator?  “Nothing like that has happened in our office. I—“

“Would you know? You have been blind to so very much.” There was a sound, a demon sighing. “But no, I believe you. But you do not work for the Little Detective. You work for me, Patricia Blackwell.”

“What…what do you want me to do? I can’t give her the unredacted information.”

“No. And that would be dangerous for you, personally. I am not in the habit of casually disposing of my agents.”

Patricia swallowed. It didn’t take a genius to realize that ‘casually’ was very far from ‘never’.

“What do you want?”

“You will make a copy of every item you give to the Little Detective, and send it to me first and I will tell you whether or not you will change what you give her. You will also provide me with the employment records of all nurses and other health professionals in the school district.”

“That’s…” Doable. Especially if… “Do you need their financial statements?”

“No. My abilities are not as limited as the Little Detective’s. Names, addresses, these grant me the strings of destiny to follow.”

Patricia nodded. “I can get you employment information…”

“Very well.”

“Wait!” She called out as the figure faded. “Does this make us… even.”

The world went absolutely silent and Patricia saw her life flash before her eyes.

“Where is Madison Clements? Where is Emma Barnes? Where is Sophia Hess?”

“Ms. Clements is in Juvenile Hall, Ms. Barnes is in an institution and I don’t know where Sophia is.”

“I do. But of the other two, one is in a locked room as we speak, unable to breathe the free air. One lies in Bedlam, her mind not her own. Some might say they deserve this, but I wonder, Patricia Blackwell, where would they be if you had carried out your duties!”  the last words were accompanied by a hellish chorus of chittering sounds, demons from hell. “The evil they did was great, but it did not start out great. Small games, cruel jokes, but it was you, Patricia Blackwell, and the rest, who taught them that they could also indulge in great games and monstrous jokes. Just as you ignored Mr. Simmonds and his collection of nude pictures from the girl’s cheerleading team, or Ms. Kynes and her drugs. Do I need to go on? Madison, Emma, Kynes, Simmonds, you are the root of how their evils came to grow and bear such a bitter fruit. I will hold your duty done when the good you have helped me do for this city equals the evil you have done to it. As for being even? That, I fear, is between you and the one that Judges us all in the end.”

Without another word, the form vanished and the driveway was quiet.

It took Patricia a little while to get the strength to go into her house.