If I never left my house, I think there's not much anyone could do about it.
I could have Lancer sneak out for groceries when we run out.
My family's home defenses were very strong. Strong enough that even if they tried to bomb my house, it would stand up to ballistic missiles. Even if an Endbringer decided to fuck me in particular, it would take a lot of effort to push through.
Stay in my house; never leave.
I have everything I would ever need, right?
I'm a Magus; that means I can just keep my head down and do nothing but study my craft for decades without complaint.
Yes, that's what I'll lie to myself about.
"Master, you look worried."
"I'm fine." I immediately replied to Lancer without thinking.
"Master." She stepped in front of me. "I am aware when you are not speaking the truth." She said in her normal monotone voice.
Right.
"I'm coping." I corrected it. "I'm not used to confiding in other people."
She accepted my words.
I know she didn't like lies; it was a peeve for her, bordering annoyance, I think. I wasn't entirely sure I could read that right, and maybe I was making some guesses.
I swallowed, feeling my foot tapping on the ground as I sat and stared out into the depths of my family library.
There was something comforting about being in here.
I felt protected.
It was normally an oddly soothing feeling to be surrounded by the legacy of my family. But right now, I could feel the anxiety making my heart beat wildly.
Was there anything here I could use? I don't think my family ever took into consideration if we were entirely revealed to the world.
Fuck, it's my fault.
Technology advanced way too quickly, and it was all but impossible for the Mages Association to keep up. What were they supposed to do when, in a matter of seconds, millions of people all saw me fighting a Dead Apostle?
You can't just burn down a town and claim it was a natural disaster to cover up this mess.
It was bound to happen eventually, but I'm the one getting fucked.
The entire world now knew I was a 'wizard.' They saw me casting spells, very blatantly. I can't say I would have done things differently; I was put between a rock and a hard place.
From many of the comments I read, there were a significant number of people who didn't believe it was magic, which is good. Can I maybe inflame those comments? I know there are companies you can pay that make bots to spam messages through the internet and push an agenda.
But public perception had been pushed to recognize me as a 'wizard.'
The News just went wild with the story. Even if I wasn't, even if I was a Parahuman, it looked very believable with ample evidence to back it up. They wouldn't pass up the opportunity to tout the idea of me being a wizard for views and attention.
It's literally their job to make headlines.
And if they keep saying it long enough, everyone is going to believe them despite what I do.
Should I pack up and disappear? It would be difficult and annoying to move, but…I may not have a choice.
"Master, your heart rate is elevated, and you appear in a state of distress." Lancer stated. "I understand that this situation is causing you stress. Is there anything I can do to assist you?"
Concerned.
She was concerned; I could feel that despite her lack of emotional response on her face.
That did make me calm down a little bit. "Just you being here is the most reassuring thing for me, Artoria." I used her real name again, and I think she was happy to hear it once more.
She smiled.
If I didn't have her at my side, I would be panicking far more than I am now.
And all of that wasn't even considering the response from the Mages Association.
I had to be very careful from here on out. Technically, I did nothing wrong; I didn't break any laws. And with the actions of the Church, I do have some leeway to blame them for the situation.
But then again, the 'rules' only matter when you have the strength and authority for them to be acknowledged.
The rules are for the elite, to keep the fragile peace amongst the various factions within the Clock Tower.
The Rules don't care about a random Magus on the other side of the country.
If the higher-ups don't like what happened, then the rules don't matter.
Contrary to what a lot of people in my past life liked to throw around, the Mages Association wasn't going to slap me with a 'Sealing Designation.' They would just simply order my execution and send out Enforcers and freelancers to handle it.
However, my family is old.
My family is known.
We don't spend much time over at the Clock Tower, but we aren't a small family that can be ignored.
I had some breathing room.
And I had Lancer.
That was my biggest reassurance.
I briefly considered something else my father once told me. When he handed over the Crest, he told me that the Family had a final trump card to use in case the Family was ever threatened with extermination.
I don't know what it is; he didn't know what it was either. He said it was something the family had acquired many centuries ago and kept under lock and key.
My father's only warning was to not even open the box unless I was absolutely sure. That simply opening the box would invite enough trouble that unless the family was close to extermination, it wouldn't be worth it.
Magi and their fucking cryptic hints.
Unfortunately, I don't think I'm at that point yet. I can't really just lie to myself and say "fuck it" and hope something good comes out of it.
There was another thought…would it be possible for me to summon another Servant?
I'm…skeptical, but in theory, it should be plausible?
Hell, the fragments of the Grail inside of me are doing a significant portion of the heavy lifting when it comes to supporting Lancer as is. I think that means it should be able to support another if I had a good measure of it.
But regardless, I need help.
Lancer is phenomenal; she can handle almost every big threat in the world. But in the case of someone powerful coming along, what's stopping a second from popping up and assassinating me while Lancer is preoccupied?
I need to increase my circle.
But there were immediate concerns now.
I stood up. "Alright, enough wallowing in self-pity. It's time to get to work."
"Do you have a plan, Master?" Lancer asked. "This is a precarious situation."
Even she understood how fucked I was right now with my identity being so blatantly thrown out into the public view. Not only that, but now I'm in the crosshairs of the local authorities, and while that's not danger in the most primitive definition of the word, it's certainly a bad spot to be in.
"I do." I told her. "I'm going to do what every proper American politician does."
Deny everything even in the face of overwhelming evidence and never admit to the facts.
I am Frederick Fucking Verde, head of the Verde family.
I'm not going to let some idiots in spandex try to run over me. The PRT should be the absolute least of my concerns, and I will take care of that solidly for now.
My only regret is that I should have waited before fully healing myself.
I didn't care about the expensive materials I used from the reserves in my family to bring myself back up to full health, but I wish I had waited now until after the meeting.
There was one good thing that came from this, however.
I can finally dress properly.
[Line Break]
My uncle hummed to himself casually as we drove down the street.
He had his driver parked far enough away that no one connected the car to my home. And having more than one escape exit is just common sense.
The news crew that was still camped out in front of my house was none the wiser.
"Perhaps it may be wise to fill me in on your plan? As long as it's something you are comfortable sharing." My uncle spoke up as we approached the PRT headquarters in the city. "Other than the obvious, of course."
Uncle was good at that.
'I didn't hear anything; I don't ask any questions.'
It was one of the reasons he was trusted by my family so much. He knew exactly how much he should ask about or poke into without crossing the line.
The line that he also didn't want to cross.
"You simply asked me if it would be a good idea to get a head start on the PRT meeting. It would be to our benefit if we dropped in earlier than expected without warning. He added. "I have to say, the bandages are a nice touch."
I touched the bandage I had wrapped around my head and felt across my body. Most of them were hidden by my clothes, barely poking out I places. I didn't need them, but it would help my image if I put my bandages back on.
He knew I fixed myself up already, and they weren't actually needed.
"I have a plan, but for it to work, we need to not give them time to prepare themselves." I told him. "And sorry for not explaining this right away; my mind isn't exactly in the best spot at the moment."
I didn't think it would be overly detrimental though. Most of everything comes from me, I just need him there to cover me in spots that I miss.
His expression softened. "I think you're doing a very good job of handling the pressure right now. You're not even eighteen yet, Frederick; you're allowed to feel overwhelmed."
[He speaks the truth, master.] Lancer agreed through our mental link, and it felt oddly reassuring.
"Tell me of your plan." He leaned back, crossing his legs before hitting a button that made sure the conversation couldn't be heard outside of the car's back seats as a window emerged to separate the two sides of the car.
"It's unlikely that there will be a lawyer present, right?"
He nodded. "Their legal team doesn't usually show their faces outside of actual legal matters. They're still a law enforcement agency; it would look very bad if they had to stand in front of a judge and say that they used a lawyer to threaten a suspect into compliance during interrogation. More so for a jury."
Even if it's not an interrogation, I suppose it would be the same.
Good, that's about what I thought. "Most likely it will be the Director and Armsmaster."
"I'm up to date on the ENE Protector's employees. Armsmaster is the current Protectorate Leader under Emily Piggot, who is the PRT ENE Director. There is a very high chance that those two will both be present during your 'statement.'" He once more nodded along.
"Armsmaster has a built-in lie detector in his helmet." I said pointedly. "Tinkertech, if I'm not mistaken."
I remembered that bit from my past.
My uncle's expression immediately. "You don't say?" It was like his mood immediately shifted. "That definitely changes things. If you want, I could make a very big mess of that. I could get any kind of statement or threats thrown away immediately by using that as a reason in the event that they don't disclose it."
"Is it illegal?" I asked curiously. "While it's most likely Tinkertech, it doesn't actually 'affect' the person it's being used on."
"Frederick, Frederick, Frederick." He chuckled, shaking his head. "The laws around parahuman powers and utilizing them on civilians are a broken, exploitable mess, barely held together by duct tape and bribes. In my objective opinion, as your legal counsel, I would encourage you to not say anything about knowing it and let them dig a very large hole for them to jump into so you can sue them for significant amounts of money. But that's not what you want, is it?"
I knew that Parahuman laws were a huge farce, but the way he worded it, frankly, it just made me annoyed at how stupid it all sounded.
"I don't need money." I told him.
"Of course." He just smiled, not even showing a hint of displeasure. "What's your plan then?"
"I'm going to…be truthful so they have no way to bother me legally. On record, undeniable."
Uncle's lips curled up in amusement. "Interesting."
"I can't claim to know how everything is going to go down, so I need you to cover my gaps."
"I believe the kids these days say 'Bet.'"
I snorted, barely holding in a laugh, but that's exactly the reaction he was trying to get out of me.
"Do you need any time to prepare?"
"I was already prepared to burst through the doors at PRT and start a legal shouting match the moment I stepped off the plane." He told me. "Don't worry, Frederick, I'm more than prepared to handle a few government dunces."
"Thanks, Uncle." I made sure to say it, and he smiled.
I know he was being more forward about it for the sake of my peace of mind. I recall in the past him saying how disjointed the government's gears are, but when they finally align, they grind down anything in their path.
It helped.
I didn't want to say it out loud, but I was nervous and stressed. I didn't fear the PRT, but I didn't want to be on the receiving end of their deciding I'm a criminal either.
Could Lancer handle pretty much any cape they threw at me? Most certainly, but I didn't want to go to war with the United States Government. That would be utterly foolish and defeat the entire purpose of my family doing what they've done here for the past how-many generations.
So, I had to play the game a certain way. At the very least, I needed the PRT off my back long enough to handle every other organization that will be chomping at me very soon.
I pushed those thoughts away, and looked out the window, trying to calm myself down.
There was thankfully very little traffic.
Probably after the whole fiasco, people were staying indoors, anticipating the next shoe dropping.
It made driving down to the PRT headquarters rather easy.
I made sure my clothing looked good.
I was basically wearing what I wore when I went hunting at night. I even had a proper pair of gloves and shoes on, not the cheap kind that only lasted a few uses against the Dead Apostle.
And it made me feel a bit more confident.
I didn't anticipate danger, but it would be foolish of me to not plan for it anyways.
I couldn't very well bring in blatant weapons, but gloves and shoes were something that no one could really argue against, even if they saw me 'use' them in the fight.
The sling my left arm was in made it a little annoying, but I could easily bite back that feeling for the sake of my goals. If I end up getting dragged to court, my statement will have been recorded, and I'll look very pitiful after playing the role of a 'hero', and it would do good for my image in front of a judge or jury.
That's why Uncle said that the Bandages were a nice touch.
The car pulled up to the main entrance, and I got out with Uncle, and we brazenly walked right up to the front door.
They occasionally have public tours for PR reasons, letting anyone who signs up have a guided look at the insides and even sometimes meet the Wards. But at this moment, there wasn't anyone coming or going from the main entrance.
At this point in time, the vast majority of PRT agents were most certainly patrolling the city, if nothing else, then ease the tension right now.
I was highly skeptical that any gangs would act out for the time being. They should all be more than aware of how dangerous things were not many days ago.
And I heard that Legend had briefly come to check in.
Mostly to fly around and warn all the villains to play nice while they get everything back under control.
From what I read online, he had already gone back to New York. He couldn't stay long because he had his own villains that he had to keep in check.
If he left New York for too long, then the criminals there would act out intentionally.
Oddly, the days following such a big event were perhaps the safest for the city.
Uncle Richard gestured to the driver, and he drove off somewhere out of sight.
I pulled my mask on tightly as we walked into the building. Couldn't show my nervousness, or my stress. Couldn't show any weakness, it was a lesson taught by my family.
He stepped ahead, even grabbing the door for me, playing the role of my support as I walked inside.
The entrance—the reception area—was almost what you would expect from a police station.
The woman sitting at the desk was behind bulletproof glass. And I wouldn't be surprised if she had a gun under the desk for emergencies.
There was no one else inside thankfully. Perhaps that was to be expected; this was most certainly not a police station. There weren't going to be random people coming in to report crimes or be waiting in the reception area without a good reason.
The woman barely acknowledged us; clearly her head was somewhere else.
"Reason for visitation?" She asked not looking up from some paperwork.
Uncle Richard stepped up. "We're here to give a statement." He said casually.
"Name."
"Frederick Verde."
That's when she paused and really looked up. First at Uncle Richard, then at me, and her eyes dilated very briefly in recognition.
To her credit, she didn't freak out.
She was well trained, it seemed.
"One moment, please." She practically shoved everything else to the side. "Please take a seat."
Good, they were clearly not expecting me.
"Of course. But please pass on a message that our time is valuable, and we will wait only so long."
I sat down in one of the barely adequate mass-produced chairs. I always wondered if they intentionally use these types of chairs just so people wouldn't wait inside for long periods.
"Want to bet on how long it takes?" He asked, whispering as he leaned in.
"Terms?"
"Hmm, your father had a bottle of scotch I'd been eyeing."
"Deal." I wasn't that much of a drinker. "Ten minutes."
He smiled. "Three Minutes."
I raised an eyebrow before taking my phone out and setting a timer.
He clearly knew something I didn't. That's probably the confidence of experience talking there.
"You said that you looked into everything alright, yes?"
"More or less." He confirmed.
"How much do you know about Director Piggot?"
"The better question is, what don't I know?" He responded. "I haven't ignored the situation in the city here. I do keep up with things, like when the local PRT gains a new director. I've known about Director Piggot from the moment she took over the position. Just as I do for the New York division."
And that's why Uncle Richard is one of the most expensive lawyers in the country.
He was going to be painting a target on himself after this. Anyone and everyone is going to know he's my lawyer, and they're going to dig into how I acquired his services. More than likely, they'll find the connection with my family and him.
I know that Dad gave him some stuff to keep for protection, but I should give him some more.
One of the side doors opened.
And surprise, surprise, it was Armsmaster.
"Mr. Verde." He called out. "Please follow me."
I used my 'good arm' to take out my phone.
3 minutes, 16 seconds.
Uncle Richard just had the smuggest look I've ever seen.
Well played.
[Line Break]
There were no words of fanfare or greeting beyond him calling my name.
Armsmaster was silent the entire way.
He led us straight to the director's office, the name tag on the door giving it away.
He opened the door and gestured for us to go inside, following right behind us.
It was my first time seeing the director in real life.
"Good evening, Director Piggot. My name is Richard Bellamy, of Bellamy and Associates; I will be acting as Mr. Verde's legal counsel."
There was a slight flash of recognition in her eyes. I'll need to ask him about that later, it wasn't common for a PRT Director to know a lawyer by name like that, especially one from out of town.
I vaguely recall him mentioning that he had sued the New York PRT in the past, did it have something to do with that?
"And for what reason would Mr. Verde require legal counsel for simply giving a statement?" Director Piggott. "Some may find it a strange addition to a simple statement."
"No stranger than being called in to give a statement to both the PRT ENE Director and local Protectorate Team leader." He responded with a polite smile. "Considering that any PRT agent is more than capable of taking a statement."
Director Pigot seemed to be displeased with that answer, but she didn't have a proper retort to it.
This was anything but a normal situation, as he so blatantly pointed out.
"You're a long way from New York." Piggot's nostrils flared slightly. "Are you allowed to practice law down here, Mr. Bellamy?"
"Why, of course, Director." Uncle Richard took it in stride. "I keep my law license up to date in this fine state, and you're more than welcome to check."
"How convenient."
"Convenient? Director, I have a law firm that I own in the city; it's a matter of professional acumen."
She didn't know that, I could tell. It's not like she keeps up with all the best lawyers around, but apparently, Uncle Richard's name is recognizable enough to her.
"It's normal procedure to alert the PRT ahead of time when coming in to provide a statement." She shifted gears, knowing she wasn't getting anywhere there.
"My, I was not aware a simple statement required such fanfare in Brockton Bay. I'll keep that in mind in the future, Director." He continued with his polite smile. "Well, we're here now; let us get this over with, shall we?"
She was trying to find a leg to stand on, but Uncle Richard kept pushing her over.
"Armsmaster will be present and utilizing his Tinker Tech headgear to record this meeting." Director Piggot stated very clearly.
This was the best-case scenario.
I intentionally wanted to come without warning because I wanted Director Piggot to have Armsmaster in the room. If she wasn't prepared, if she was being forced from a time perspective, she would want him here.
I had some contingencies in case things didn't turn out well, but now there was no need to worry about them.
"For the record, please state your full name." Armsmaster looked at me.
"Frederick Allard Verde." I said expressionlessly.
"Thank you." He returned with a monotone voice. "Now, please answer the following questions truthfully to the best of your ability."
"Proceed." I told him to carry on.
"What is your relationship with the woman known as 'Lancer'?"
"Don't answer that." Uncle Richard cut in.
"It is a pertinent question."
"It's an irrelevant question. He is here to give his statement on the matter regarding the attack on Winslow High School, not to be interrogated. His personal relationships are to remain personal."
Well, it wasn't quite accurate to say it's an irrelevant question, but I wasn't going to step on Uncle Richard's toes; he clearly knew what he was doing.
But he was right; this wasn't an interrogation. They were still using the pretense of giving a statement, which made it somewhat less forceful in supposed questioning. If they turned it into a proper interrogation, then the rules changed, and they would most likely get even less out of me.
Was he just seeing how far they would push and was testing them?
Hmm.
Armsmaster glanced at the Director, and he continued. "In that case, do you know where 'Lancer' currently is located so we can ask for a statement from her?"
"I don't know where 'Lancer' is." I said with complete honesty.
Because I didn't know where she was currently astralized at. She was hanging around somewhere, but the exact location was unknown to me.
Thus, I was telling the truth.
I wasn't sure what mechanism Armsmaster's Lie Detector was using to glean its information, but I knew it couldn't be anything invasive; otherwise, even Piggot wouldn't allow it to happen.
"The villain who attacked Winslow—we would like to know any information you may have about him." Armsmaster carried on the obviously rehearsed questions.
"What makes you think my client knows any information you don't know?" Uncle stepped in.
"How would we know if there was something we didn't know if we didn't ask the question?" Piggot cut in.
It was fine. "I can describe his features if you want. I can estimate his height, his weight, or other things along those lines." I played dumb.
Piggot frowned. "We don't need his physical features described; we have plenty of video."
"In that case, I have nothing to add if you don't require me to elaborate on his physical characteristics." I leaned back.
Well, if they didn't want me to reveal his physical characteristics, such as his vampirism, then who am I to complain?
Again, Piggot shared a quick look with Armsmaster, and he very subtly shook his head, which seemed to confuse her. In hindsight, when they review the video, I think they'll realize how particular I was being about the wording.
But for now, in the moment, it probably just passed over them.
"Fine. Then what about his powers?" Piggot asked pointedly.
"From what I was able to gather from watching the videos provided, he appeared to have the ability to manipulate his flesh and showed regenerative abilities. However, beyond that, there is not anything else for me to add to the statement that was not already covered." I answered honestly once more.
This was very clearly not the answer they were expecting.
But I have answered truthfully thus far.
"Is there anything else, or are we finished?" Uncle spoke up again. He was urging them on because he didn't want to give them a moment to collect their thoughts.
"No." Piggot's lips thinned. "We are not done. Armsmaster, continue."
I suppose it wouldn't be that easy.
"Are you a 'wizard'?" Armsmaster just ignored any sense of delicacy with his absolutely blunt question.
"What does that even mean? Define what you mean by "wizard." Uncle Richard demanded.
Armsmaster looked to Piggot.
"Someone who can use 'magic.'" Pigot added.
It was honestly rather comical to hear her say something like that so seriously. I could feel her annoyance at having to ask that question. Even the words coming out of her mouth sounded rather forced.
'Can you use magic', coming from a Government employee, a law enforcement employee at that.
"I am not a wizard." I said carefully.
Once more, it was just a tiny flicker, but Armsmaster seemed confused by my words.
Piggot's expression changed from one of mild annoyance to a very obvious variation of it now. "Can you use magic!?" She demanded right after.
"No, I cannot use magic."
I am a magus; I practice Magecraft.
The director's squeezed her hands together. A small reaction, but it showed how her anger was bubbling up. "Are you a Parahuman?"
"No, I am not a Parahuman."
She looked at Armsmaster, and from what I could gather, he confirmed that I have yet to say a lie.
I am now, on record, and confirmed by a Tinker Tech device created by Armsmaster, that I am neither a 'wizard' nor a parahuman, nor can I use 'magic.'
I could bet this was throwing her for a major loop.
"Then how were you able to fight that villain who attacked your school?" Piggot's tone carried a slight hiss to it.
I shrugged.
"Answer the question." She scowled.
"Moderate your tone, Director." Uncle Richard's polite smile swiftly changed. "We are here as a courtesy. If you continue to be belligerent, then our meeting will end here."
Oh, she was mad as her gaze snapped to him. "There are allegations of Master powers being used on the woman known as 'Lancer'."
Oh, she did call me Master out in public, didn't she?
That made me internally cringe at what might be jumping around online now.
"I am neither a Parahuman, nor do I even know where the woman known as 'Lancer' is." I reiterated.
"Director Piggot, my client has stated he is not a Parahuman, thus does not have the ability to 'master' an individual, as per your vernacular. If it would satisfy your wonderful organization, my client is willing to do a Brain Scan to show he has no Corona Pollentia." Uncle Richard followed up immediately.
She let out a snort. "So much for your supposed 'religious objections' to modern medicine?"
Uncle Richard just smiled. "A simple scan of his Brain doesn't constitute medical intervention per his beliefs."
You could see her lips twitch in irritation.
"Explain the presence of the people who appeared after the fight ended, the ones you acknowledged from the 'Church.'" Piggot shifted quickly knowing that line of questioning was a dead end.
"I'm not a practicing Catholic; what do you expect me to tell you about the Church?" I returned.
"You're avoiding the question." Piggot's tone changed again, as if she now found a new avenue of attack. "You're here as a 'courtesy,' but I can very well submit an arrest warrant considering your blatant lawbreaking in destroying evidence."
"Did that happen?" I played dumb.
"Mr. Bellamy." Piggot's nostrils flared. "Perhaps you should explain to your client that it's wiser to be forthcoming; otherwise, we will no longer be asking nicely."
"I believe there to be some misunderstanding. You see, I suffered from some head trauma, as you perhaps already know. And just as well, I have recently lost some of my memories." I didn't allow my mask to slip as I said this.
"Mr. Verde, are you claiming to have memory loss?" Armsmaster asked.
"I believe that is the correct term. Yes, I do have some manner of memory loss." I nodded.
Once more, they went silent.
Armsmaster's shoulders lowered, and his body language screamed incredulousness mixed with confusion.
I technically wasn't lying.
I did lose memories, just memories of my previous life. I never said when the memory loss happened or that it was connected to the attack.
"If you suffered such severe injuries, then why didn't you seek medical aid?" Piggot pivoted quickly. She showed her experience when, even if she was confused and thrown off track, she still found a way back.
"My client does not believe in modern medicine due to religious reasons." Uncle Richard stated just as he did before.
"The question was for your client." Piggot scoffed. "Mr. Verde, answer the question."
"My religious beliefs are none of your concern, and I direct you to my attorney for an answer." I gave a non-answer that wouldn't get me called a liar.
Piggot knew it too.
However, she smiled slightly. "Then you would have no problem being seen by Panacea, right?"
Ah.
That's a good move.
However,
"I don't trust Parahuman powers." That was most definitely the truth. "And in which case, I do believe, if I'm not mistaken, Panacea has publicly acknowledged that she cannot heal brains."
Which means she can't heal memory loss. Though, technically, Panacea could, but she didn't know that.
"That's correct." She acknowledged. "But she is able to look and see if there is damage, or lack thereof. And if a simple Brain Scan doesn't contradict your religious beliefs, then having Panacea look would be the same, wouldn't it?"
"My client has already expressed his dislike for Parahumans' power, Director. Please respect his decision."
"Let's see if a judge will respect his decision. I think I can manage to convince one of the Judges around for a warrant to force a medical examination." Piggot leaned back, looking smug.
She was trying to call my bluff on the memory loss or poke at it to see if it was 'true.' Doubly, to get me under the 'view' of Panacea to see if there's anything special about me. It would be hitting multiple birds with one stone.
To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure if Panacea could 'see' anything she wasn't supposed to. How did Magic Circuits interact with her Parahuman powers? They didn't show up on medical scans, but Parahumans were not logical in that regard.
"By all means, Director. I will gladly stand in front of a judge and argue against it. Because if even the PRT ENE Director refuses to receive parahuman healing from Panacea, despite her illustrious reputation, then what reasoning could you have to demand so from my client as well?" Uncle Richard met her gaze firmly.
Panacea, the best healer in the world. With a touch, she can practically heal any ailment.
Yet, the director here has been suffering from physical disability and has been on dialysis for years without ever receiving healing from an asset that's quite literally next door.
Oh, she definitely didn't like that.
I could see it in her eyes; she was pissed that her own disabilities were thrown in her face and at the double standard she was trying to force on me.
Yeah, she can 'technically' arrest me for destroying evidence, but the majority of that was on Lancer.
Not only that, it was right after I 'saved' a school full of children.
Overall, it would be very difficult to genuinely press me with a crime here. And it was a very shitty hill to try and die on.
The thing is, I know she would have normally, but she didn't expect me to show up with a competent lawyer.
From the moment we stepped into her office, she was already on the back foot.
"Is that all, Director? Or do you have any more questions you want to ask?" Uncle Richard asked with that polite smile returned. Though at this point, it felt rather mocking.
"No." She said through gritted teeth. "You may leave."
"Come along, Frederick." Uncle Richard stood up, guiding me out of the office. "And Director Piggot, please have a wonderful day." He said as we left the office.
[Line Break]
A/N
Frederick speaks the truth, technically. Now, with the PRT off his back for the time being, it's now best to deal with the Church.
Basically, after Frederick successfully defended his 'memory loss,' there wasn't much more they could reasonably ask him in his statement, considering it was more an impromptu interrogation and they don't actually need a 'statement' in a more general sense.
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