Kid Win stared at the screen for a long while.  Cryptmail.  That wouldn’t be an agreement with the PRT.

Yeah, no, he’s definitely talking to someone else.

“So someone got to you before we did,” he muttered to himself.  He tapped the armor over his ear twice to open a communications channel, “Console?”

Certainly sounds like it.

“Weld here, manning the console.”

“Do me a favor, call everyone back to the base for a quick meeting?  And maybe call Piggot?”

You think we need everyone for this? Well, fair enough, Weld did want more communication.

A Reverse Taylor, of course, is a wrestling move.

Straight to the computer.  Hm.  Kid Win pocketed the hovering camera, then turned his attention to the smartphone.  According to the phone, there were three wireless modems in the building.  One was named with a string of violent swear words, the other was on its default settings.  Both were unlocked.

Hehe.

The two wi-fi networks in my house have boring names. The main one just has my dad’s first initial and our surname stuck together, and the one in my bedroom is called “Gjester”, meaning “Guests”.

He chose the third, locked connection, clicked a button on the screen to have his phone decrypt the password.

Heh. I guess there’s no use in locking your networks when the person who wants access is a tinker with access to PRT resources.

Fifteen seconds later, he could see someone online.  Kid Win watched the white text scroll by with details on the connection’s activity.

Damn, that was a fast hack job. Got some good resources on that phone, or a bad password on the network.

Google docs – pages of technical stuff, the boy was adding notes on gold wiring, shortform notes on antigravity, 3D crystals.

Oh, neat, he was intrigued enough by what you showed him to take notes on it, perhaps in the hopes of using some of it himself.

The next page the boy visited, five minutes later, was an email account.

Twenty seconds later, an email was sent.

Can you read that too over this system?

To: C1298475739@cryptmail.com

Well, that’s promising. Nobody sketchy would use an anonymous mailing address, right?

Guy from wards came.  I’m in.

That’s.

Bad. Probably.

It kinda sounds like a Reverse Taylor is being planned here.

“Not a problem,” Kid Win replied.  He punched the boy lightly on the shoulder as he stood, “Join.  It’d be good to talk shop with someone else that gets this stuff.”

Hehe, nice.

Chariot nodded.

The mother led Kid Win to the door, and he headed out the building – the fat man from the stairwell was gone, and only the Hispanic boy by the front door was still in the hallway.  Kid Win stepped outside.

Okay so he did get through the door, but how much further?

Something’s off with this scenario.

Yeeah, there does seem to be something fucky. Something, or someone, seems to be trying to make Chariot not join. It might be the mom, despite her apparent desire for him to join for the benefits… maybe she was being #nothelping on purpose?

He tapped his foot a second, then stepped around the building and into the alleyway.  He retrieved his smartphone, and used it to send the hovering camera up to the third floor, checked in the windows where the apartment would be.

Ooh, time for some sneaky business.

The boy was leaving the bathroom, going into his room.  Kid Win moved the camera to the next window over, the boy was sitting down at his computer, turning it on.

Let’s see what sort of revelations we can find here.

Man, what if the twist is that Chariot’s already been snapped up by a villain team?

Again, that vibe.  Pretending he’s not as interested as he is.

Hm. Reluctance to prove his mom right?

“They can’t force you to join, but they do want you on the team.  There’s no negotiating.  You’d get the same I get, pretty much, so if you’re holding back or trying to fake like you don’t want to join when you do, you’re just wasting your time and mine.”

“I’m onto you.”

“I’m not,” Chariot replied, defensive.  “It’s only… this is a big deal.”

“It is.  So take my card.  Call me if you have any questions, or if you want me to pass on word that you’re joining the team.”

Sounds good!

Damn, Kid, you’ve done a fantastic job here.

Kid Win fished in his belt and then handed his card to the boy.  Black with white lettering and his starburst-gun emblem on the back.

“Okay,” Chariot replied.

“Talk it over with your mom.  Get back to us.”

“Thank you,” Chariot’s mother spoke, standing.  Kid Win stood as well.  He shook her hand again.

I kind of have a feeling Kid will only get halfway out the door, at most, before Chariot comes after him.

He pushed forward, anyways, “I get that, really.  But it’s only given away in name.  You still get to use it, you just can’t give it away or sell it to others.  The benefit is that you gain access to all the stuff and plans other PRT tinkers have made.

Which you could potentially use to make your own stuff even better!

I can’t show you any more of that than I have, but the fact is, you’d be able to look at my blueprints as easily as I could look up yours, get inspiration…

“…Or you could look at the sort of stuff Dragon makes.”

Oh damn, heavy hitter point!

Chariot’s eyes lit up.

I think that one line was worth like two points on the scale.

“Tell me you’re not interested, now.”

“I’m… kind of interested.”

Sounds like a success in the makings!

“But he’s risking his life,” Chariot’s mother spoke.  Chariot frowned.

While that isn’t helping, it’s a good point that should be out on the table. That said, surely there are tinkers in the PRT who don’t actually take part in combat? Chariot’s suits sound good for combat in some ways, but if he’s completely unwilling, I’m sure there are options.

“He is.  There are responsibilities.  But honestly?  There’s zero way he’s going to be able to go out and try out any of the stuff he’s made without running into trouble.  People are going to pick fights, just because he has powers.

Yeah, that’s fair. And if he’s a Ward, he’ll have training in handling himself when that happens.

If he tries to hang out in a workshop he establishes on his own, they’re going to find him, strong-arm him into putting something together for them.  Not just villains, either.  Heroes too.

Oof. A rogue tinker’s life is hard, as evidenced by every children’s movie with a brilliant scientist father who gets targeted because the bad guys want some invention or other.

Being a tinker doesn’t just make you a target.  It makes you a resource.  It’s why pretty much every tinker out there is a member of a larger, more powerful team.”

Yeah, makes sense.

“You’re talking money?” That had piqued Chariot’s interest.  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

It seems he does have an interest in that.

All the more reason to recruit him, really. Otherwise it could become a motivation to go down on the dark side if he gets desperate enough.

“I maybe shouldn’t, but I’m going to tell you what I’m getting out of it, because it’s almost definitely going to be the exact same for you.  I get paid, but the money goes straight into a trust.  I’ve made enough to pay for my college education, and every dollar I earn beyond that is going to be waiting for me as a cash award, if and when I graduate from a four-year postsecondary program.

“I’ve made enough to pay for my college education” says a lot when we’re talking about the U.S.

I’m getting four hundred dollars in allowance each month, just to mess around in my workshop, all my materials are paid for, and I currently have about two thousand dollars sitting in the bank, right now, from that.  Once I turn eighteen?  I make more.

*whistles* Not bad!

It automatically transitions to a job with good pay, working with the Protectorate, and the hours will be totally flexible around any classes I take.”

If this deal didn’t sound sweet before…