System Certified Supervillain

Victoria had to do a check-in with her guild and Rick was called in early because, apparently, the servers were on fire. He didn’t know if the receptionist at [Troubleshooter] HQ was being facetious or not, so he packed up his things and decided to check things out in person. That meant Tiff and Amy had two options for getting to school: walk, or catch a ride from Victoria and go early.

Which really meant there was only one option, and ever since Tiff’s physical Stats took a fat dump, she wasn’t going to complain. Really, being early wasn’t so bad, since it was only about 30 minutes. Tiff’s Homeroom didn’t have a zero period, so there wasn’t a teacher and thus the door was locked, but she plonked herself down on a bench in the hall and took out her new tablet while she waited it out.

There was something Tiff needed to take care of before she forgot, so now was the best time to do it. Upgrading. She promised the gang that she’d upgrade their meeting room, and Tiff was a woman of her word. Honestly, though, Tiff might have been more excited to test out her tablet TAS than she was about the upgrade itself…which was really saying something, because upgrades were always fun. This case, in particular, was promising to be extra spicy because Tiff had a very large budget to work with after being paid. And since the money came from the gang, it should go back to the gang, right?

…did that make the 5th Street Gang non-profit?

Tiff didn’t have Economics this semester, but she’d try to remember to bring that up. Maybe she’d write it down.

Her first choice was obvious: reinforced durability. For Tiff, this was more of a prerequisite rather than an upgrade, and it wasn’t something she was willing to skimp out on for any of her buildings. Not only did it protect against potential Metas rampaging through her properties, but it was insurance for the future. As Mr. Shribbs (her freshman science teacher) always said, California was due for The Big One any day now, and Tiff was adamant that all her holdings were earthquake-proof. She needed to protect all of those fancy glass display cases!

Speaking of which, one of the restaurant’s front cases was faulty. It showed a [Repair] option when Tiff hovered over it, so for a mere $100, she clicked on it. Her budget today was more than 100 times that, so she could live a little.

Tiff was worried that her sense of value was getting a little distorted, but she didn’t feel rich herself, and when she did a snap-test in her mind judging which fast food restaurant had the cheapest value meals, she was satisfied that some felt more expensive than others. Besides, this wasn’t her money, not really, and it didn’t feel like money at all since she never held it in her hands. She tossed the whole bag at her [Core] and it gobbled it up like the Cookie Monster.

The meeting room itself was larger than she had given it credit for…or maybe she was just a bad judge of size. She’d equated it to the size of a classroom (slightly bigger, actually), but in truth the restaurant’s backroom was almost 2 times bigger. Maybe all the random junk dropped the 50 x 50 space to something closer to 30. Tiff’s first few choices were novel more than helpful. She chose a nice, natural granite flooring that came in several options. There was a standard “slab,” which was quite impressive since it seemed to be a solid chunk of granite and Tiff wasn’t sure how that would work. There were also “tile” and “mosaic” options, where the tile formed an impressive checkerboard pattern that reminded Tiff of a 50s diner…not that she’d been in many. The mosaic was the coolest option by far, so Tiff picked it out of principle. Each time she tapped it, it randomized into a different pattern, so she giggled to herself as she mashed the button, wondering which one the restaurant would eventually end up with.

The next obvious choice was to upgrade the couch. That old ratty thing had to go. While Tiff was initially unsure if she really wanted to invest in something high-quality, considering this piece of furniture was literally going into a den of thieves, she decided it would be worth it for several reasons. One, she promised, and two…it was so darn cheap. The most expensive couch upgrades were less than $500, which even Tiff could guess was far below market value. There were fabric and texture options, ranging from something like corduroy, to suede or velvet softnesses, to luxurious, premium leathers. Tiff didn’t know what the best choice would be, so she chose something that looked like a La-Z-Boy from a commercial and called it good enough.

Lighting was a must, and Tiff decided the gang needed a little class in their lives. She removed the generic fluorescent fixtures (half of which currently had burnt-out bulbs) and replaced them with sleek, recessed LEDs around the perimeter. While that might make the room much darker overall, she also added a massive chandelier. She figured it fit the mood with the new dark, shiny floor and burgundy leather couch.

Because Tiff was a magnanimous, benevolent dictator, she did not neglect the entertainment. She swapped the 50-inch plasma for an 80-inch OLED flatscreen, repaired the netting on the old basketball arcade and made it a two-player competitive unit, and added a brand-new air hockey table.

Of course, since it was a break room, Tiff couldn’t forget the tables, so she made them out of real wood instead of flimsy plastic and upgraded the folding chairs to ones with actual padding. There. Now people would have a comfortable place to relax, hang out, and…plot nefarious things.

All for the low, low cost of $6,798.

Oh well. Maybe it was a bit impractical, but if Tiff ever had to visit again, at least she would be comfortable.

“You look far too pleased with yourself for this early in the morning.”

Tiff looked up from her tablet, only to find Candice standing in front of her. The cheerleader was fashionably dressed, as always, but she was nursing a cup of coffee like it was the last of its kind and she was saving it from extinction.

She took a sip.

Candice was a cruel mistress, indeed.

“Good morning,” Tiff said cheerfully.

Candice did a double take.

“Okay, something is definitely going on. You almost smiled. I saw it; I can attest! Nobody in the history of ever comes to school early and smiles!”

Tiff gave Candice an amused look, glanced at the time, and inclined her head.

“I’ll have you know it’s only 8 minutes before the bell rings.”

“Sure,” Candice said, rolling her eyes. “The first bell. But enough about that. Whatcha doin’?

“Upgrading,” Tiff nodded. “It’s very soothing. Actually…it’s sort of like those Animal Crossing games, except I get real gratification for decorating a room.”

“Ah,” Candice said, nodding sagely. “Wait,” she then narrowed her eyes. “You have that on your tablet? Can I see?”

“Sure,” Tiff shrugged. She lifted the tablet up and Candice took it from her hands. The cheerleader stared at it blankly for a second, turning it left and right before letting out a small sigh.

“Dude, I can’t see a thing. Did you turn it off?”

“No?” Tiff asked, taking it back. The screen looked fine to her; it was still on the image of the breakroom, listing 18h 37m until repairs were complete. “Is it an access thing?” She muttered.

As if in response to her voice, a pop-up appeared requesting authorization.

​

[Member of the Court detected. Register access on Remote Territory Administration Suite?]

​

Tiff grinned and hit yes. The screen went completely black, and a white outline of a hand appeared. Tiff raised an eyebrow and handed the tablet over to Candice.

“You have handprint scanning security on your tablet…?” She muttered, but she placed her hand on the pad. Tiff could see the glow of the scan as a white light traced up and down the screen…despite there being no real reason it should have worked. She shrugged and put it up to System nonsense.

Candice tapped her foot impatiently as the tablet authenticated her, taking another sip of her coffee. Tiff could see why the System offered her a position as bean counter and schedule keeper; Candice embodied a secretary very well.

“You’re thinking something rude, aren’t you?” Candice asked conversationally without looking up. The screen blinked green and her eyes widened. “Ooh. Walk me through this, will you?”

Candice took a seat next to Tiff on the bench and set the tablet so it balanced on both their legs. The program had exited the building view and had gone to a screen Tiff hadn’t seen either.

At first glance, it was a simplified version of Tiff’s main menu. At the top, it specifically called out that Candice was using it, labeling it as the [Visier’s Registry]. There was another Mail option similar to Tiff’s, as well as an Appointment Book, a Directory, and a Finances tab.

Technically, there was also a “calculator” section, which seemed rather sus considering Candice’s upgraded Stats and her new ability to math hard. It looked even worse once they clicked on it and all they found was an interactive abacus. While…cool (?), it also felt like the System was trolling them.

If so…well played, System. Well played.

However…apart from all of that…Candice’s Registry was also a snitch!

She tapped the Appointment Book, which had a small red circle with a 1 inside, indicating a new appointment. At the top, in bold, damning letters, was Meeting With Haxus: Afternoon. There wasn’t a set time (which was good, since Tiff hadn’t even made one yet), and it only said “approx. 3pm-5pm.”

Candice slowly turned away from the tablet and stared at Tiff with judging, narrowed eyes.

“And you were going to tell me about this…when?” She accused with a touch of exasperation. “As your schedule keeper and social advisor, I kinda need to know about these things.”

Tiff looked away sheepishly.

“In my defense, I only made plans to go talk to him this morning.”

“Okay, one: it’s a guy. Why are we meeting a guy? And two: were you going to tell me regardless of when you decided to go?”

“Probably…not,” Tiff admitted. Candice shook her head.

“Me and you,” she said, pointing between herself and Tiff, “We gotta work on our communication skills.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Tiff chuckled. “So, yeah, Haxus. He’s a tech dealer. He runs a grey market at night and a normal electronics store in the day. I’ve only had dealings with him once…I don’t actually know what he wants today, either. He sent me a memo through the 24-Heaven, which is slightly concerning, by the way, if he found out that’s one of my controlled areas, but he’s not hostile. At least I didn’t get that impression the last time I visited.”

“Wow,” Candice sighed, her eyes widening. “A real tech dealer on a grey market.”

Candice started bouncing excitedly, clutching her arms close to her chest and pumping them up and down.

“How exciting!” She beamed. “We’re doing this! We’re really doing this! Okay, okay, gotta calm down, chill. Hoo. Wow…this is so much better than getting an internship at that property management office over the summer.”

“Candice…,” Tiff grimaced.

“My dearest Tiff,” Candice said with a voice full of long-suffering patience. “Tiff. Tiffy. Theophania. You weren’t about to suggest that I not come along, were you? Ho ho, that would simply be absurd. Of course, you were merely lamenting the fact that you don’t have my contact information, and that’s all. Here,” she said, taking out her phone. “Let’s rectify that. Add me in. I’ll add you too, then we can’t blame a lack of communication on any future blunders.”

Tiff rolled her eyes but took the phone. She created a new contact, reveling at the fact that she now had 5 entries. Candice did the same, jingling her bracelets as she expertly manipulated her phone in one hand. As she handed Tiff’s phone back to her, she looked up. The hallway was starting to fill with students and it was getting more crowded. The chance to keep the conversation private was dwindling.

“Cool cool,” Candice said. She eyed Tiff’s tablet one more time and shook her head. “Hey, try not to get that thing confiscated, right? We’re gonna be needing that.”

​

After school, Tiff found herself in the Camry with Victoria, Amy, and Candice. Amy was, as always, looking two seconds away from being the cat who swallowed the canary, tempered by the fact that she got to tag along and wasn’t being left behind, bringing her closer to the cat who got into the cream.

Considering Tiff’s large, energetic little sister most often reminded her of a golden retriever, the metaphor most likely needed work.

Trying to take her mind off the fact that she was about to involve her new friend with more potentially shady dealings, Tiff focused on something she genuinely cares about.

“Tori, how did it go today?”

“Eh,” her sister shrugged, “Not good or bad. It simply was. They confirmed my permanent delisting and asked if I wanted to take on a couple of small jobs. One as a consultant for some new delve-guards who signed on recently, and another to help maintain a stable Rift. I already declined the consulting gig, but I’m torn on the Rift job.”

“Oh, take it, take it!” Amy exclaimed. “And while you’re at it, take me too! It’s a cleared Rift, right? That means it’s gotta be safe!”

“No, and no,” Victoria laughed. “I’m not taking you into a Rift; Mom would kill me, then she’d ground me for eternity. And just because it’s stable doesn’t mean it’s safe. Monsters respawn from time to time and they need to be culled.”

“I thought…you were a [Bodyguard]?” Candice asked. Tiff looked over and saw she had the most confused look on her face. “Tori…what exactly do you do?”

“Was a [Bodyguard],” Victoria sighed. “And I worked- still do, I suppose -for a Mercenary Guild called [Roughnecks]. And I guard people. It’s in the name. Before you say anything,” Victoria added darkly, “Yes. Inside of Rifts. You’d be surprised at how often it’s necessary. People do some really stupid crap inside of Rifts…and that’s not even counting them stabbing each other in the back.”

“Aren’t you, like, 20?”

“Almost,” Victoria admitted. “Birthday’s in March.”

“You’re 3 years older than us,” Candice said in a disbelieving tone. “Why do you feel more like an adult than most of the adults I’ve met?”

“I’ve seen some shit,” Victoria chuckled. “Can’t deny it.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Amy grinned, leaning around to peer into the back seat. “It’s because she drives an old crappy car.”

“If you wanna keep riding in this ‘old crappy car’,” Victoria warned, “You best turn around and behave.”

Amy didn’t need to be told twice.

​

“Here we are!” Amy declared as they pulled into the parking lot. Part of the reason she was allowed to tag along was that nobody else remembered how to get there. Yes, they probably could have looked it up on their phone, but the only time they tried Googling it, their search results were auto-corrected to “Fish and Chips.”

No, Tiff was not looking for the top 5 listed seafood restaurants “nearby.” Not only was that unhelpful, but the whole car was now hungry. The miscommunication did no favors for their moods, which were slowly sinking toward beer-battered cod filets on a bed of hot, crispy fries, perhaps with a little lemon wedge, when they arrived.

“Phish n Chips,” Candice said through narrowed eyes. She turned to glare at Tiff, who was considering the value of adding malt vinegar to telephone scams. “The circles you run in are a little rough around the edges.

Tiff seemed to realize she was getting food fantasies mixed up with criminal activity and wiped away some drool. She shook her head and gave Candice a funny look.

“Circles don’t have edges.”

“My point exactly,” Candice replied smugly.

Tiff rolled her eyes as Victoria led them to the door.

Unlike the first time they visited, it wasn’t dark out and half the lights inside weren’t turned off. The graffitied advertisement remained, accompanied by a new addition of a minorly phallic, wobbly line sprouting between two of the zeroes. The left-hand door was still blacked out, but customers were entering through the right instead of being escorted through a security checkpoint by a burly bouncer. Multiple customers could be seen inside, and there was even a small line at the counter. Victoria held the door open, and Tiff entered alongside the jingle of a bell.

Tiff, Amy, and Candice instinctively spread out to browse the shelves and make any proprietor immediately nervous about a bunch of teenagers wandering aimlessly around their store. Amy zoned in on a section of gaming peripherals while Tiff and Candice were lured over to a drone display. A small, white drone about the size of a salad plate hovered perfectly in place inside a clear glass box, boasting a total battery life of 112 hours of runtime!

The rather large asterisk next to the very small print and the comparatively low price point suggested to Tiff that the battery life claim might be slightly exaggerated.

The girls weren’t there to shop, and even if they were, most things in here were far above their budget, so after about 5 minutes of aimlessly ogling the goods on display, they gathered around the counter. There was only a single, older lady talking to the worker, so the group decided to wait patiently, as there wasn’t an immediate problem that dragged them here.

“So weird that this place moonlights as a grey market,” Candice mused. “I, for one, never saw it coming.”

“I think that’s kind of the point,” Amy nodded. “Make the place as plain and boring as you can so nobody wants to investigate you.”

“Unassuming,” Tiff said. “It’s called unassuming. I don’t know if we should be insulting the shop in front of the worker by calling it plain and boring.”

“I mean, look at him?” Amy said, pointing at the guy. “Can you really say it’s not true?”

As Amy said, the guy’s patience was wearing thin. His glassy eyes were only partially focused on the woman he was talking to, and anybody with half a brain could tell the rest of him had already checked out.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry,” he repeated for the bajillionth time, “I’m sorry. I can’t accept a return on a printer that’s already been used. I can offer a replacement, but otherwise, all sales on ink, including printers, are final.”

“But it just ran out so fast,” the lady continued obstinately. “I don’t understand why you’d sell a printer that runs out after printing a dozen pages.”

“Did you purchase any additional ink?” The worker asked tiredly, trying to cycle the conversation. “The cartridges that come with the printer are trial sizes. There’s enough to run the diagnostics, but not much else.”

“Of course I didn’t buy any additional cartridges!” The woman gasped, as if offended. “The printer cost 30 dollars! The black ink alone cost 25, and the color replacement cost 40! That’s more than the original price of the printer!”

“I understand that, ma’am,” the man said. “Which is why the printers only come with a trial size. Ink is the most expensive part of buying a printer; consumables like that always are.”

“But the printer already came with a set of ink,” she complained. “Why should I have to spend more money on ink if it already has a set?”

“Because it’s a trial-” he began, but the lady was getting irritated and cut him off.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, anyway?” She said hotly. “Trial trial trial. That’s all you’re yapping about. If it says it comes with ink, it should come with ink!”

“It does,” he tried to explain, though it was clear he questioned why he did. “But, again, it has less ink-”

“But it’s a normal cartridge, right?” The lady bulldozed on. “I mean, why would a-” she paused to make extremely exaggerated air quotes “-‘normal’ cartridge have more ink in it if it's the same size?” She smiled as if she’d really pulled one over on the guy. “How would it even fit in the printer? Those overpriced extras are trying to gouge me!”

“Lord, give me strength,” the man muttered through a pinched smile and a strained voice. “Ma’am. We’ve been over this multiple times now. Printers come with trial ink. Normal cartridges are extra. Printers and ink, once opened, are not returnable. Only exchangeable. It’s posted on the shelf.”

“But I have my receipt!” The lady fumed, waving a long strip of paper in his face. He held his ground (and his fake smile), enduring his nose being tickled by wafting print tape.

“I’m sorry. Those are the rules.”

His voice was robotic and it seemed his patience had finally run out.

“So you’re not going to give me my money back?” The woman demanded.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Those are the rules.”

“I CAN’T believe this place!” The woman raged, packing her items into the trashy plastic bag she carried them in. She made no effort to curb her fury or limit it to her badgering. She made a mess of the counter, scattering things around and knocking displays over, as if taking satisfaction with being destructive. “You have NO concept of customer service! I used to think small businesses were better, that they could be trusted! This place is no better than one of those big box chains! 1 star! That’s what this is! 1-star service! I’m going on Yelp and I’m leaving a terrible review! The staff doesn’t listen; they don’t take customers’ needs into consideration. If I could give a 0, I would, but I can’t…”

The lady left in a huff, ranting and raging as she did, her tirade trailing after her as she slammed her way through the door and out into the lot. With her gone, the silence of the room was ringing. The poor clerk at the desk didn’t seem to care in the slightest that she had just threatened to review-bomb him; if anything, he looked relieved.

Tiff, Amy, Candice, and Victoria all shared a nervous look.

“Did that just happen?” Amy asked in a hushed whisper.

“Pretty sure,” Victoria replied.

“Do we approach?” Candice asked, looking at the shell of a man slumped on the counter.

“He looks…worse for wear,” Tiff observed.

The man picked his head up, looking in dire need of 5 cups of coffee, and tried his best to welcome the group to his store.

“Welcome to Phish n Chips,” he said doggedly. “How can I help you?”

“I…am not sure how to put this,” Tiff said delicately. “I received a note that the owner wished to talk. We are…acquaintances.”

The man stared at Tiff, squinted his eyes, and tilted his head to the left like a dog ridding itself of water in an ear. His mouth morphed into a frown as it slowly fell open, but as his eyes traveled up Victoria’s considerable form, they widened. He stood up, back ramrod straight, almost appearing at attention. His eyes darted back to Tiff, then to Victoria, and back again several times. Tiff supposed he shouldn’t be blamed for not recognizing her; not only was she not wearing a mask this time (or Victoria in her armor), but Tiff’s new Skill [Hiding in Plain Sight] was supposed to help her stay incognito when she wasn’t wearing the dress.

“Are you..?” He gasped. Tiff inclined her chin slightly and gave off a haughty smirk. The man sighed with relief.

“Fantastic,” he breathed as he slumped back down. His eyes betrayed him as they traveled to the large windows, observing the parking lot, where a certain woman was letting her purse-poodle pee on somebody else’s tires. “Finally, an honest Villain.”

¹

Thanks for reading! Have a great day :)

Discord

Patreon