Handwriting of God 2 (Patreon)

I watched as Miss January made use of Vought’s provided gym. The room, in addition to the standard exercise equipment and versions tailored for individuals with enhanced physicality, had a number of sections meant to be used while training powers. I didn’t use it much, both because I could get by just fine with a more mundane gym and because I had no interest in making it easy for Vaught and my ‘teammates’ to see what I was focusing on in my training.

Like I was doing right now, having accessed the security cameras in the gym from my own room. Some may think it was for something as base as lustful urges, but no. If I wanted to do that, I had no need for something as crude and crass as perving on gym footage. Even with the fact that I didn’t partake in my own merchandising, I left that all to Vaught, I still had more money than ninety percent of the country.

No, the reason I was watching the newest member of The Seven in the gym was to get a more thorough idea of what she was capable of. Her dossier that Vaught had provided to us, and the more complete one that Vaught hadn’t given us, listed her abilities, but I wanted to see them for myself. I could tell, just from her movements and the numbers they produced, that she’d be far less problematic for me than the majority of The Seven.

Good, it was hard enough cleaning up after the majority of The Seven as it was. Anyone who caused problems with something approaching Black Noir's frequency rather than A-Train's would be more than welcome.

I watched her for a few more minutes before turning away, the numbers I could see telling me all I needed to know for the moment. I had other things I needed to do. Vaught was...annoyed by the death of Translucent so soon after bringing in Starlight. Annoyed enough to want the investigation over and done with, and thus make it my “priority” over everything else they had me doing.

It was a pain in my ass, but even with my power showing me the numbers underlying each and every aspect of the investigation, there was only so much I could process at once and so fast I could work. Whomever had killed Translucent was thorough in their cleanup, I didn’t have enough to work with at the moment, until they made another move there wasn’t much else I could present to Vaught.

There was a series of sharp knocks on the door to my room, and a quick glance and tap of keys switched the camera feed on my monitor to the hallway outside my room. I raised an eyebrow seeing Black Noir standing outside my room, but hit another button to let my fellow Vaught troubleshooter inside.

Giving him a nod, I picked up a manilla folder containing everything I’d found on the Translucent case and held it out for him. He took it and started flipping through as I said, “Not much to go on so far, I have a few algorithms running, but for the time being it’s a waiting game. Pass on to Edgar that if he wants more, I’ll need more data to analyze.”

Black Noir nodded, closing the folder and turning his attention back to me. The majority of the world wouldn’t notice, but I could read the minuscule shifts in his body language that all but screamed a childlike eagerness and anticipation. Smirking under the skull mask that was part of my Harbinger costume, I opened one of the drawers of my desk and pulled out a parchment wrapped package.

Tossing the package to Black Noir, I told him, “Enjoy.”

It wasn’t anything fancy, just some specialty art pencils, but they were some of the best pencils that money could buy, and I figured that he could use a present given how he hadn’t caused me any problems.

A few hours later, I was taking a break from work projects to work on the math for my wargame when I received a text message on my personal phone. Checking it, it was from Black Noir, and I wondered what he’d sent me this time. The only time he ever sent anything to my personal number was something he’d drawn and he wanted to share.

I was...leery about opening it to see what he’d drawn. Don’t get me wrong, he was an amazing artist, and was skilled enough that even with my power I sometimes wondered how he’d drawn what he does with just pencils. The issue was that he didn’t always have the best grasp on what was considered appropriate to send between teammates.

It was only then that I saw that I wasn’t the only recipient, he’d also sent it to Miss January. This would either end up being very good or very bad. Opening the text, there was only a single character that appeared while the images loaded: a question mark. Which meant that he was asking…

Oh damn. I calmly took my mask off, specifically to place my face into both of my hands as I groaned. Ten highly detailed images, all featuring the same two individuals in various poses and positions. Each and every one worthy of an NC-17 rating. I’d just been thinking earlier that day that Black Noir hadn’t caused me any problems, this was because I’d taunted Murphy.

That done, I picked up the phone and typed out a quick response. I didn’t know if Miss January had seen the images yet, but if not, a reply to Black Noir telling him to limit questions about my sex life to me alone would not hurt. After that, a quick check through the building’s cameras showed her still in the power gym, heading to the lockers (most likely to shower).

That taken care of, I made my way down there, more than a touch annoyed at Black Noir. As well as at my brain for pointing out that, given it was Noir who’d drawn it, all of the anatomy was almost certainly completely accurate.

The locker rooms only had a single door in and out, so I waited in the gym, and took in a deep breath as, not two minutes after my arrival, a loud shout came from the women’s locker room, “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Well, there goes any chance of talking to her before she saw the drawings. Barely a minute later, the hastily dressed blonde came out of the locker room, only to pause upon seeing me.

“Black Noir’s on the autism spectrum,” I lied, the preplanned explanation for him doing something that required me to step in.

“What are-” she began, but I didn’t let her finish.

“You must have some inkling by now that The Seven are celebrities more than actual ‘heroes’,” I interrupted her. “I’m going to be blunt: my job in The Seven isn’t to be a profitable mascot, it’s to clean up the messes that arise whenever one of the others inevitably fucks up.”

Miss January was looking a little confused, and I continued, not wanting to let her have a chance to interrupt, to explain, or to ask any questions, lest I lose control of the conversation.

I said, with a sigh, continuing, as I pinched the bridge of my nose, the annoyance at Black Noir returning, before saying, “Let me be frank: John’s got an ego the size of Australia, Maggie puts away more booze than a college fraternity, A-Train has accidentally killed multiple people with super speed, Translucent would peep in women’s restrooms, this is actually the first time Black Noir’s done something that needs me to step in and fix.”

She stood still for a moment, before shaking herself and snapping, “That doesn’t matter, he needs to be reprimanded for this stunt!”

I raised an eyebrow and drawled, “Did you miss the part where I said that A-Train has killed people? The day you joined he’d turned a civilian woman into a smear on the road because he can’t handle the thought of not running as fast as he can. Compared to that, what makes you think some dirty drawings are going to so much as cause a blip on Vaught’s radar? Especially since, as of now, only three people know about them.”

She stood there, her jaw working as she tried to formulate a response, and I continued, “Consider yourself fortunate, if my profile on the other guy who was being considered for The Seven when I joined had been picked, he’d have blackmailed you into actual sex by now, instead of there just being some drawings.”

Miss January gave me a look, confusion, disbelief, and more than a touch of disgust, all warring with each other, and I stood from where I’d been leaning against the wall, offering her a few parting words, “I have high hopes for you, Miss January. High hopes that your eventual fuckups will be more like this and less like A-Train’s.”

[hr][/hr]

The next week and a half went by fairly uneventfully. I didn't get much closer to figuring out who it was that had killed Translucent, but at least Black Noir hadn't sent any more images of me having sex to anyone else. Miss January and I weren't exactly on the best of terms, but that was to be expected after she'd been exposed to the less sanitized view of the supe life.

Speaking of, she wasn't really getting along with the rest of the team either. Black Noir had soured her on himself and me, and she'd done some digging and discovered that I hadn't been lying about the rest of the team's faults. John, for all that he was a complete fucking psychopath, was decent at keeping his psychopathy out of the public eye, but now that she had access to Vaught's personnel files, she could now see how they all behaved when the cameras were gone.

Starlight, Miss January, was horribly shaken by the revelations that she was joining a team filled with, to put it horribly bluntly, piss poor examples of the human species. I wasn't really surprised by this, everyone involved in the supe scene was some form of cunt, myself included. It was only a matter of time before someone like Starlight would have to face up to that reality.

I hoped she'd be able to keep her sanity through it all. She had the potential to be the most useful member of The Seven I'd ever seen. Mostly by not being a colossal fuckup every other week.

Unfortunately, things couldn't stay calm for long. I'd just returned from a mission to stop a mall shooter, who was hopped up on so many drugs I was surprised he hadn't keeled over from an overdose an hour ago, when I got the call from Stillwell. It seemed like I had more work to do.

It wasn’t much, a few odd, unconnected text messages, but it was just enough to lead me to a possible connection: the retired CIA case officer Grace Mallory. I didn't have enough to bring to Edgar or Stillwell, it was enough to potentially provide additional leads. The trickiest part was finding her new phone number, but it was still only a few hours to find it.

“Hello?” came Mallory’s voice on the other side of the phone line.

“This is Harbinger,” I said bluntly, “what do you know about Translucent’s disappearance?”

She was silent for a moment, before saying, with forced nonchalance as if she hadn’t spent the last decade and a half under the radar, “Nothing at all, what makes you think I know anything about one of The Seven being out of the spotlight for a time?”

I rolled my eyes, even without my power, I’d be able to tell that she was lying. I doubted that she personally was involved in Translucent’s death, but there was a connection there, somewhere. So, I decided to push, trying to get her to give just a little bit of information.

“Don’t play coy, we both know you’ve worked against Vaught in the past, why else do you think Lamplighter paid a visit all those years ago?” I asked rhetorically.

She let out a short growl, to which I listened with only half an ear, my eyes sliding out of focus as the numbers flowed. She hadn’t been involved in Translucent’s death, but the odds were high that she had a pretty good idea of who it was. Not a family member, the last she’d had were killed by Lamplighter. A colleague? A pupil?

“Ah,” I said aloud, Mallory going silent. “It was a pleasure speaking to you, Mrs. Mallory. Farewell.”

I hung up, and leaned back in my computer chair as the trojan I’d placed with the call did its job.