Ch. 22: Rat Sink

I feel my stomach trying to lurch its way out of my mouth as Zola looks over the group. Another emergency summit meeting, same as last time, and his turn to lead. "Let's get one thing out of the way, first," Zola says, smugness dripping off his voice. He plays a video projected on the wall behind him.

A familiar one.

I slowly cover my mask's lenses with my hat, saying nothing as I make an idiot of myself on the screen, revealing Cavalcade's shortform videos of me healing people under EViRT's supervision. Truthfully, I'm not even remotely embarrassed. I'm far beyond any sense of self-consciousness. However, I worry Zola won't be satisfied if I react positively. Better just play along.

A few murmurs of amusement. Shu pats me on the back a couple times. I notice Kingfisher's expression is unwavering, focused on Amblys.

Zola smirks at me, eyes narrowed but far from hostile. "In summary, this was funny enough that I consider the hatchet with Beaker officially buried, with no intention to reclaim the lost investment. Second, Nightjars want the floor for an announcement. Shu?"

"Not me," she says with a grin.

Overseer's voice isn't what I expected. A bit nasally, but deep. "About time I started speaking. Beaker, stay for a minute after the meeting. That's all."

Porter rolls his eyes. "Thrilling."

"And third, Amblys. Big news on the bomb, I take it?"

He nods with a faint clanking, looking over the people that surround him, an unreadable intent. "Pretty strange to be meeting with hardened criminals, one of which I was quite literally fighting yesterday."

Solvent and I are criminals, sure, but hardened is a bit of a stretch. I almost cried a few days ago when I saw a baby bird, long abandoned by its parents, faintly breathing and close to the end. My power only works on humans, and all I could do was gently move it out of the sun and into the shade beneath a tree. It took me until the day after to see the irony.

Amblys stands up, layers of hammered metal gently clinking against each other. His camera-shutter eyes look us over again. I briefly wonder if would be rude to ask if his sight was blurry and round like a persons, or a sharp rectangle like a camera, or something in between.

"So. We need volunteers."

Dead silence, of course. Not a single word from any of the wildly different groups here.

"It's reassuring that you all understand the gravity of what we're asking. None of what I say leaves this room, beyond to your closest confidantes. If word gets out, it could set things in motion faster than we're prepared for."

Kingfisher folds his arms. "Should have mentioned that earlier, hero. I already overheard you talking about Rat Sink."

The silence turns into quiet, tense whispers between like members. I understand why.

Rat Sink is a terrorist group, emphasis on the terror. Their beliefs are best summed up by the name of their group itself. Some scientist in the '60s did an experiment with a bunch of rats, setting them up in overcrowded enclosures but having their every single need provided for in what the scientist, Calhoun, called "Rat Utopias." Unexpectedly, the rats in turn self-destructed. Cannibalism, failing to breed, a total decline in whatever counted as social skills for rats, and eventual complete population death. Calhoun called it a "behavioral sink."

Rat Sink anthropomorphized the hell out of the experiment, and determined that the biggest cause of problems in the modern world were our own rat utopias: cities, the largest ones are now apparent nesting grounds of human scum. Their founder, naming himself after Calhoun, was the spark for taking disaffected young people and pitting them against a common enemy. Especially empowered young people. A disturbing number of them wannabe or former heroes who were disenchanted by the realities of what being a superhero actually was, were radicalized either online or by Rat Sink directly, and found themselves mixed up with them.

Amblys looks around the room, blinking for the first time I've seen. "Obviously, I don't think any of you will put your neck on the front line. But any information you can feed us would be an incredible help. It's no secret you all have the closest ear to the ground here. There's probably some delicate politics at play here, so there's no shame in contacting EViRT in secret after the meeting. Obviously, we're calling a truce in the meantime. None of you are going to have anything you offer used against you, so if you have anything illegal but helpful, please use it. I hear Solvent of the Apothecary can detect lies, if you wanted to confirm.

Solvent folds her arms, so I answer for her. "Unfortunately, your unique biology inhibits her ability. It inhibits my own as well." I'm surprised that even EViRT fell for the lie that Solvent had a power for detecting lies. Pretty funny, in retrospect.

"Damn. I'm sure we can work something out, though. Since you saw Beaker's work release, you can all see we're capable of overlooking some things for the greater good."

Porter inexplicably scowls at Amblys after saying that, as though offended by the insinuation.

Amblys grunts. "Okay. That's that. Rest assured, if any of our plants hear a word of this getting out, you will be punished."

The silence mutates from nervous to tense instantly. I notice both Shu and Gil looking at me, expecting me to break the tension somehow. That is what I do best at these meetings. Naturally, I must oblige.

I stand up, and bow dramatically, flicking my cape to the side and semi-accidentally giving Solvent a face full of it. "I, the physician Beaker, am at your service. So malicious are these actors that I cannot remain idle, so befits my oath to cure and mend. Call upon me at your leisure, and I shall see what I can provide." I sit back down, thankful that Solvent doesn't punch me in the back of the head yet.

Amblys nods appreciatively. "Thanks. I didn't expect you to step up, Apothecary."

"That's pretty damn insulting to the only one here even remotely friendly with you." Shu spits, to which Gil confirms with crossed arms.

Amblys sits down as well, glancing at me with rapidly flickering eyes.

There wasn't much left to discuss after that. Some incidentals, but nothing of importance to me. As requested, I go to meet with Shu and Overseer after everyone else has left. They're both turned towards me. Even though I can't figure out what they're thinking behind the helmets and disciplined body movements, I get the sense it isn't great.

Shu is first to speak. "Diagnose Overseer for me."

dead, six headed snake, alien blood from zeta reticuli, distilled human soul, d-

Just like last time, but with a different cure? That's incredibly strange. "Ahh. Umm."

Shu tilts her head. "Don't lie."

"Well... according to my power, he's dead. But a different kind of dead than he has been since we met. I... don't know what to make of that."

Shu takes off her helmet, smirking. "So you've been told he's dead the entire time?"

"Yes. It's weird. I've never seen another power interact with mine like that."

"Your power lets you go through a few things wrong with someone, right? What's next?"

"There's never anything after 'dead'."

"Humor me."

I tap my cane a few times, but oblige.

dead, sixty-eight headed snake, alien blood from zeta reticuli, distilled human soul, dying star, circular triangle, transubstantiated blood of buddha

complete delayed necrosis dispower, cuttlefish spines-

"What the hell..?" I say, involuntarily. That was unexpected. I wasn't lying: there's never been anything after dead. Must be a really strange power that scrambles mine somehow. I don't even know what 'complete delayed necrosis' is even supposed to mean.

Overseer nods. "Tell me, what did your power say I had?"

"Every kind of necrosis as a dispower... I'm confused."

"Intriguing. Did it provide a cure?"

"Yeah. My dispower cures are temporary, though, remember. Not to mention, I still have no idea what's going on here."

Overseer tilts his helmet in a glance to Shu, who gestures at me with her head.

"You can keep a secret," Overseer says. "This is my fourth body."

"...what?"

"That's my power. I see a dead body, I can transfer my consciousness into it."

"...what?"

So I know Overseer's power. I'm not sure why I was told, but it's worrying all the same...

The clinic, though, is without any major problems. Plus, it's Thursday, which means tomorrow is Keep Me From Serial Killing Date Day. My favorite day.

In the meantime, Catalyst's new mask is done. It's honestly kind of cute. It covers his face entirely, and the simplified face on the screen is emotive enough with the low-pixel count, the face currently a cool blue. At seeing Solvent and I, the face quickly turns into a smile, turning green in the process. Yeah, definitely cute. It contrasts with the ominous phrase above him, but I can't see the harm in it...

Before I can say anything, Solvent walks straight up to him, signing, while I try to keep track of their conversation.

"That mask is very funny," Solvent signs.

"Thank you. Back of House did a great job." Catalyst's own sign is halting and clunky, but I think Solvent understands it a lot better now that she can read his expressions. So that's what this was about.

"I can understand you at least."

"That makes me happy."

"I noticed. The face turned green."

"Oh."

"Now it turned pink." Catalyst's mask is still very much green. I decide to stop reading. Whatever they're doing, it seems a little too close to eavesdropping.

I go to find Vera next, spotting her in an exam room on her phone. She's wearing her new "costume" which is just a blue nursing outfit with a white long sleeved shirt beneath, a surgical mask, and a reused domino mask from Catalyst.

"Got a name yet?" I ask, spinning the cane around.

"So we have a beaker, a solvent, and a catalyst. We're obviously missing a product. And a reactant or solute."

I nod. "Sure."

"Product and Reactant are terrible names, Solute is way too close to Solvent. I'm going to go with a medical term. Medulla."

"Sounds good."

She stops for a moment, surprised. "Really?"

"Sure. It implies you're the core, the innermost part of the clinic, the heart. I like it. Especially since I'm going to be out all day tomorrow."

"Oh, right, so basically every other day. I'll call if I need you."

I hear Back of House over the speaker. "Negative. Protocol dictates that in the event of a life-threatening emergency on Friday during regular work hours, let the bastard die."

I mute my mask to keep my laughing to myself.

I watch the clock on my phone anxiously. 4:49. So close to a night of nothing but Emily, followed by a day of nothing but Emily...

The door to the clinic clicks open, sliding apart to make room for a very nervous looking Mayor Barnett, a couple other officials from the ceremony, and Barkbite.

"Sir Barkbite!" I ignore the officials, immediately walking over and giving him an enthusiastic handshake. "Tis a fair night where you reveal yourself, my fellow! Do tell, what brings you here at such an hour?"

Barkbite is getting a kick out of the officials being ignored. "Oh, I was in the neighborhood, and a bunch of sad looking guys in suits asked to follow me around like lost puppies."

"Such a noble endeavor, a hero of true vision." I get much too close to Barnett for his comfort, lifting up his sleeve for the fun of it, and poking at his vein. He's starting to sweat. "I see, I see." I back up, leaning on my cane. "I am the physician Beaker, owner of the Apothecary. Now, do tell me of your plights, my fellows!"

Barnett is looking uncomfortably at Barkbite. "You didn't say you knew this weirdo..."

Barkbite barely acknowledges Barnett. "Huh? Oh, I didn't think it mattered. Don't worry, she's harmless. Well, mostly harmless." He points out the slogan.

I laugh. "Indeed. Now, introduce yourselves. I'm afraid I am drawing a blank on your names, future patients."

Barnett clears his throat. "I'm-"

coronary artery disease, water + toothpaste + charcoal + nylon + any artificial sweetener

"The Honorable Mayor Barnett, of course, no doubt here for your arterial degradation. Fear not, my friend, and rest yourself within the first exam room. And you?" I ask, pointing to the next one. An average looking black man who's notable entirely based on how average he seems, looking at me in amusement.

"Justice Ben Singleton. You're everything I was hoping you'd be."

osteoporosis, any chemical containing calcium + milk + oak wood + titanium

"Indeed? I shall not fail the assessment, then. Your bones are as brittle as autumnal leaves. Exam room the second, if you would be so kind."

The third person is glaring at me. He looks terrible, someone pale and tan at the same time, and is giving me the resigned look I've come to recognize as 'you were my fifth choice after the fortune teller.' "Tell me of yourself, my fellow."

"Figure it out yourself, if you're so smart."

"The haste of my power is tied to your focus."

He clenches his fists. "Another fucking cold reader. Great. Just what I needed."

achalasia, crux + ABS plastic + any insect + any coin + any battery

"Trouble swallowing, it would seem. I will spare us both my attempts at humor. Room three, if you would please."

"How the hell..."

I lean in, a tinted lens pointed at him. "You think me a mountebank, yet you arrived within the Apothecary regardless. Shall we skip the skepticism and come to the cure?"

He grunts, leaving for the exam room.

Barkbite watches as they depart to their respective labelled doors. "Word to the wise, they're also absolutely loaded. You didn't hear that from me, though."

"Indeed... my friend, have you heard the recent news Amblys relayed?"

His nose scrunches. "Yeah. Why?"

"Seek me out if you are able when the fighting begins. I can produce temporary dispower remedies. They may be of help for you to avoid blistering pain after a single blow."

Barkbite nods. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the heads up. I'll keep it a secret, of course."

"Good man. Now, to load my moneybags."

I throw together the three cures, and fortunately I have everything on hand. I visit the skeptic first, tossing a clear vial of white liquid up and down in my hand. "Fortuitous. Now, the matter of my payment."

"How about I pay you fifty bucks to get a real job? You probably just saw me struggling to swallow my spit or something."

"So unconvinced, are you? Let us wager upon it. Should my injection fail to provide relief, I shall have my bodyguard Solvent stab me through the eye. Should it not, you will pay me one million American dollars."

"Uh-huh. You know what? Sure. If I get to film it."

"I encourage it. Now, produce your shoulder."