With Money I Can Do It All 2 (Patreon)

I knew how to fight, not just brawling and techniques developed from my time in prison (which was only good enough to ward off unwanted advances long enough for the guards to show up), but the body I was now the proud owner of had studied Muay Thai and Savate for nearly half his life. So I was good. Marcus beat me like a drum. He wasn’t surprised by the elbow and knee strikes traditional to Muay Thai, and despite looking like he weighed close to two hundred pounds, the man fought like a fucking ghost. Most of the time it was like he was just a few centimeters off from where I was about to hit, and the times I did land a strike, he’d roll with it, so I couldn’t land a solid hit.

His strikes on the other hand hit like a freight train. The first hit I took (a kick to my sternum that sent me flying) completely knocked the air out of me. After that I focused on dodging while sending in strikes where I could, while also getting the hang of the muscle memory I now had. Trust me, it’s a weird feeling, your body moving in ways that you didn’t recognize and only realizing it was doing so after it had already done so.

To top it off, Muay Thai and Savate were very different styles. Muay Thai is sometimes called the Art of Eight Limbs, because of its unusual focus on strikes utilizing the elbows and knees. Savate is a kickboxing style. On top of that, savate focused almost exclusively on kicks that ended with the foot as the striking part, which was in comparison to muay thai’s ‘everything.’

In the end, I was too inexperienced and trying to combine two styles on the fly to do more that provide a good showing against Marcus. But it was good exercise, and it helped me get a better feel for the man who would be serving as my protector.

“I’ll admit,” Marcus began as I wiped the sweat from my face with a towel, “I figured this would be a job that involved nothing more than standing around looking scary for a snot nosed heir.”

“Gee, I can feel the love,” I snarked.

“But you put up a good fight. You’re just inexperienced. Some time in the ring with a couple different partners to iron out your edges, and you’d probably be able to compete in the Olympics in MMA fighting. Certainly not anything like what I was expecting, and it was a very pleasant surprise.”

Taking the compliment, I pulled out my phone from where my jacket and button up shirt were. Checking the time showed that we’d been sparring for roughly half an hour, and the date… December 4th, 2010. From what I remembered, Taylor got shoved into her locker on the third of January, meaning I had the opportunity to prevent it if I so chose.

She was key in killing Scion, so my sense of self preservation made me disinclined to keep her from avoiding her Trigger Event, but her power was far more problematic than anything I wanted to deal with. So one way or another, Taylor Hebert needed to Trigger and then be sent out of Brockton Bay.

[hr][/hr]

In the end, I had three major goals: get rid of Skitter, create my own corporate hero team, and eliminate the competition. The first was the most specific, the second was one for the long term, while the third was in some ways the most important.

The hero team was mostly a mix of three reasons: PR, misdirection, and control. Agnelli LLC funding a team of heroes would both look good and make me being involved with my extralegal activities less believable. If I happened to sign on some hot and attractive capes, well that was just a side perk.

But removing the competition… that would take some doing. I couldn’t move too fast or there would be an unpredictable power vacuum. I also needed to prioritize who I targeted first. Lung was the kneejerk first choice, while the Merchants had been butting in on the drug operations for years. There was also Coil with his bullshit yes/no timeline power, and the Empire Eighty Eight.

Lung, despite his insane power if let go long enough, was a lazy worm content with his gang and small fief. The Merchants were too disorganized to seriously threaten any operations outside of their gutters. Those two groups could be put off for later. That left Coil and the Empire. Coil’s power was dangerous, but he relied almost entirely on mercenaries.

The Empire, on the other hand, was big, powerful, and had a source of legitimate income and prestige that they could leverage against me and my operations. That meant that Kaiser and his ilk were to be my first target. As successful as the drug smuggling and other enterprises I’d inherited were; Medhall, and thus the Empire, one way or another employed nearly a third of the people in the city. I couldn’t go at them head on, even ignoring the fact that I am a baseline human and they have more capes than anyone else in the city.

If I was going to topple the Empire, I’d need to move indirectly. Thinking over what I remembered from my previous life, before I was thrown in jail, the young cape, Rune, was from a country group that sent her to the Empire in hopes of getting some of the Empire’s resources. I didn’t know anything about her personality, I didn’t even know her name, but she was a possible ‘in’ I could leverage to break the Empire.

I sent out some messages, having a few guys start narrowing down Rune’s possible civilian ID, and put out a request for a cape I had vague recollections of. In the meantime, it had been a long day, and I wanted some sleep.

Of course, it wasn’t that simple. On my bed was a simple, a maroon hood/shoulder cowl. I couldn’t remember owning anything like it, but somehow knew that it was mine. I also knew that it would block attempts at reading, gathering information about, or influencing me through anything other than mundane means. How I knew this… I couldn’t say, I just… knew.

I put the cowl in a box and tucked it away in a drawer. I’d deal with it later, for now sleep beckoned.

[hr][/hr]

The next few days were a busy rush. Not in dealing with the Empire or anything cape related, but in dealing with the takeover/change of leadership in my father’s various enterprises to me. Mostly numbers work and meeting with a dozen different underlings, but important work nonetheless. Finally, roughly a week after I’d woken up in the back of the limo, I had a chance to do something other than paperwork and meet with people who saw me as a spoiled, untested brat who got my position without earning it.

Now I was doing paperwork and meeting with people who saw me as a spoiled, stupid brat who’d just inherited a shit load of money. It’s amazing what a difference dealing with skeevy cretins was compared to criminals. I admit, a big part of why I was meeting with a representative of a modeling agency was to get the opportunity to fuck some up and coming models, but I had plans other than getting my dick wet.

A few of the underlings in my organization had kids that went to Winslow, and I’d put word out through the ranks that they should do some scouting. I was soon to have a sizable share of an agency that stretched from Maine down to Florida, and even had some contracts overseas; and I was looking for prospective models, men and women.

Within three days I had nearly twenty bites. Most were… okay, not spectacular but a few 6s or 7s. Of the nineteen applicants that I was looking through that first weekend, there were five that stood out. Emma Barnes, Madison Clements, Julia Wolfe, and Douglas Brown were all more or less what I expected, but the one that surprised me was Aisha Laborn.

Even though she hadn’t triggered yet, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the rather appropriate fact that I’d completely forgotten about her. From what I remember of her personality, it seems likely that she’d applied for the lols. But… even dismissing the fact that it gave me a link to Tattletale (who I could poke for aid in killing Coil), Aisha had the right sort of physical presence for the more punk/grunge/goth apparel. She wasn’t runway model material, not quite, but she could easily make a fortune in the right niche.

At the moment though, I didn't want to jeopardize any potential work relationship with Tattletale, so I set Aisha's application aside and focused on the others. The one guy of the five standouts was caucasian, and had the kind of simple, rugged face that worked for country/work clothes. Emma Barnes already had some local modeling gigs, so she had experience, but her body type wasn’t what the high end modeling companies wanted. The only future she had in modeling involved fake bunny ears at best. Besides, the agency I was contacting was specifically looking for new blood that hadn’t been taught any bad habits.

Emma’s application was set aside with Aisha’s: not for this initial gig, but someone I wanted to keep an eye on for potential future assets. That left two of her hanger ons. Julia Wolf was blonde with hair reaching her waist, with a flat belly and light muscle tone in her arms. Madison on the other hand had a much more ‘girl next door’ vibe to her. Brunette with a cute nose and smile, she’d get plenty of offers for various clothing brands.

I sent Douglas’s application along to my contact in the modeling agency. Julia and Madison, I had ideas for. More than just as prospective models, but I could easily leverage them as an additional source of information on the going ons in Winslow. And potentially manipulate one of them into recording Taylor being shoved into the locker.

[hr][/hr]

That next day, Sunday the 12th, I met with both Julia and Madison, asking questions, getting a feel for their personalities, seeing which would be the easiest to manipulate. Neither were particularly difficult to understand. Julia was a gold digger in the making. So long as her desires for material stability and security were met, she’d be happy to do damn near anything. Madison was a deviant pretending to be a cute little girl. She’d pretend to be hesitant, but she’d be up for anything once the fun started.

Having interviewed both girls independently, I now had both of them sitting in front of my desk as I looked over the paperwork the agency had sent me. If I filled out the paperwork, then they’d get priority treatment by the agency in regards to training and modeling offers. Both girls knew it, too. Having let them sweat for a few minutes as before I closed the folders containing their application, I looked up at the two of them.

“I will be perfectly honest. Both of you have potential. Were I to sign these forms,” I began, tapping the forms in front of me, “then you’d be contacted about a photoshoot by the end of January.”

“Really?” Madison asked, a wary gleam in her eye.

“Yes, really. But why should I? Or rather, why should I sign these for you specifically? Whoever I sign for is going to reflect on me, and my role in any future relations with the agency. So I need to be completely certain that you’re not a good choice, but the best choice.

“However,” I said, preempting Julia who looked ready to say something, “there is a limited shoot this Friday. I can get you in there for a trial run, and if it goes well we can celebrate after. I might ‘misplace’ a few drinks during said celebration, but so long as no one says anything there’s no trouble.”

“Friday’s our last day of Finals,” Madison pointed out, “what time is this practice shoot?”

“Unless I’m mistaken, Winslow has half days on finals week?”

“Yeah, we’ll be done by one,” Julia agreed.

“Wonderful, I’ll have a car sent to pick you up at one on Friday, and you’ll be driven to the shoot. It won’t be anything fancy, but it’ll work to get your foot in the door and see if you’re suited for this kind of work.”

There were a few details to work out, getting their parents’ permission and the like, but that went smoothly. Both girls’ parents were so excited that their ‘little girl’ could become a celebrity, they all but signed away their daughters’ virginities. Not really, but it felt like it.

The rest of the week leading up to the photoshoot was buried nose deep in paperwork. Running a secret criminal enterprise involved a lot of paperwork. Payoffs, bribes, incentives, so on and so forth. There was also dealing with those that were trying to usurp my position, claiming that my buying stock in the modeling agency showed I was a hormonal teenager that couldn’t be trusted to lead.

Thursday I called a meeting with several of my lieutenants, one of which was my most vocal opponent. I’d spent the last three days carefully gathering the information I needed to make my case against my detractors. I wanted to nip this in the bud before it grew out of control.

“Gentlemen,” I greeted as I sat down and set up the projector and laptop. The slideshow ready, I turned back to the dozen lowlifes in the room with me.

“I’ve heard talk questioning my business choices. Some in our esteemed organization seem to believe that I’m not considering the long term consequences of procuring stock in the Paltain Modeling Agency.”

“With respect sir,” Michael diCaprio, the lieutenant most in opposition to my inheritance, began, “Your age and the nature of the investment paints a rather… presumptive picture. You’re eighteen and just came into the inheritance of several businesses that you have absolutely no experience with, and the first thing you do is invest in a field that is most well known for attractive women wearing little to nothing. It’s not hard to draw certain conclusions.”

“While I admit, the eye candy is a side benefit,” I drawled, “consider something. How many celebrities use drugs? How many high profile businessmen, politicians, and the like have… unsavory relations with beautiful young models?”

I could see that some of them were getting what I was leading towards, diCaprio wasn’t one of them. That or he refused to give me any credit whatsoever. Too bad for him, I wasn’t done, “How many celebrities, directors, actors and actresses do you think would pay through the nose for the drugs we ship? Everyone knows that they have and use drugs, which lets us hide in plain sight. If a well known model in the agency I now own a significant number of shares in is found to have a large stash of heroin, well, I’m just an investor, there’s no reason to look into my other businesses.

“In short, a new revenue stream, a new market of prospective buyers, and a source of influence, information, and blackmail. All for investing in one company. Does it still seem like I’m thinking short term?”

By and large, the faces of the lieutenants looked at me with a newfound respect, still nowhere near as much as they had for my father prior to his passing, but I’d shown that I was capable of making good decisions. Even diCaprio had a look of reluctant respect on his face. I made mental note of the faces that were most difficult to read. They’d be the most dangerous in the future.

Regardless, I had a photo ‘session’ later this week. I could hardly wait.