"Ah, that's smart! Good idea. ...anyway uh that still kinda doesn't solve the gang problem, if all he's paying you with is parts."

"No, it doesn't. I really don't know about that one."

"You said you told this to the hero?"

"The gang thing. Not the deal thing. It was Magnet Master - I think he's not going to tell the rest of them yet. Gave him my PHO account."

"Hmm. And he didn't have any magical solutions to it?" Glam guesses.

"Nope. Said he'd poke around to see which ways the PRT might flop on the issue."

"Hmm."

"I mean, I could just- I think the heroes, if they hear about this, they know I'm more likely to snap and do something regrettable without my family being safe. And joining them wouldn't be all that bad. So here's hoping."

"It really is a much better idea for tinkers to join up than any other kinds of parahumans," they admit.

"It's..." Sigh. "Maybe. I'm still scared of them."

"Rightly so. I'm probably not joining no matter what, they have—all the incentives lined up wrong, it's kinda terrible."

"And it's probably even - more helpful, long term, to work with them. Maybe. But... Huh. I've been in the holding pattern I'm in now for a while. I think that's part of why the idea is scary. Change is scary."

"Yeah, it is. Is there anything in particular you're scared of?"

"...Getting stuck in contracts and deals and things. I just - have this image of a boa constrictor made out of paperwork in my head. It's the idea that I won't be able to just say 'I'm out of here' and go."

"...ah. Yeah, you—probably won't."

"And that's irrationally terrifying. So. Yeah."

"I'm not sure I'd call it irrational exactly—it's a reasonable fear and people have different reactions to different things. ...but the part where there are a lot of parahumans who don't have particular reason to like each other in the same place forced to interact does not fill me with love for the idea."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure my terrifying is irrational. It's too close to... To owing money to the gangs. You can't just up and leave."

"Yeah. But, well, for all its faults, I'm pretty sure the Protectorate won't... do what a gang would do if you tried."

"...Yeah, tell that to my anxiety, see how much I calm down. Well, whatever. I've got to go now."

"Okay. Good luck. If you need anything, I'll be around."

On the following Tuesday evening, Vertigo checks her dead-drop point for the big pile of supplies she was promised.

They are exactly as promised.

Sweet, sweet titanium. Some quick tests - it's actually titanium, right? Maybe a mediocre-quality alloy, but that's still probably good enough.

And then she checks it all for trackers. Or any active electronics at all, really.

They are literally exactly as promised, absolutely no traps she can detect or anything lower-quality than explained.