Supplies

The coroner drops the doctor off at the Third National Bank, as that's where he left his car. It being quite late now, the doctor simply heads home from there. It's a half hour outside of town, an old farmhouse on an eighty acre homestead. Officially he inherited it from his previous identity, of course, but it's been his since the cold war ended. It's home… but today he's not going to the house: He needs to pick up a few of his “keepsakes” and call on a few recent allies (from the last decade or two…) if he's going to be hunted. He hits the remote control for his garage as he goes down the drive: There was a company selling car lifts a few decades ago, and he had one installed.

A section of his driveway rises up (lifting the car parked on top of it), and eventually a steel floor from further down lines up with the concrete, at which point, the doctor drives onto it and - rather than getting out, hits the button again, lowering the rig back down until it again looks like simply another section of the driveway from outside. Now, if this was the default installation of the PhantomPark, he would need to just go right back up… but the good doctor did a bit of after market modifications after the installation was done. Just a little digging, about ten feet… enough to connect to the stairwell from when this was a cold war missile silo.

He's done some upgrades, of course. Motion sensors turn the lights on for him in the tunnel as he opens the car door, gets out, and connects the car to the charger. He then walks to the stairs, unlocks the door with a code, and heads down into his entirely off-grid fortress. Water is provided by a well, power by a thermocouple (a form of heat-difference power generation, taking advantage of the fact that ground temperature is a function of depth past a point… it's technically geothermal power, but it's really only enough to keep the bunker itself running… but that's enough for the doctor. Where the old bunker kept MREs, the doctor has algae ponds, lit up by hundred years rated LED bulbs… as his power can, and will, provide all the sustenance he needs.

The doctor has it set up as a house… but as going down three flights of stairs to get to the living quarters is inconvenient, he uses the aboveground house for his living quarters notmally, and the bunker mostly just for storage… which is why he's here. See, a man can collect a lot of interesting items over the course of centuries, and keep it all off the books. Like, the bunker is, yes, described in some government archives… and noted as decommissioned: The hatch over the missile silo is welded shut and covered in a foot of dirt. The old entrance was knocked flat and paved over. Everything is all nice and documented in official records that the bunker is sealed off very well… because all that work was done by contractors and inspected by the city at every stage.

Benjamin made sure of it.

But just because something is sealed in concrete doesn't mean it will stay that way. A little underground construction project ten feet away didn't disturb the concrete stairwell… but a ten foot tunnel isn't that hard to dig and reinforce with hand tools, concrete walls yield to a sledgehammer given time, and there's plenty of instructions available for any avid do-it-yourselfer: Always have been. Libraries have been a thing for ages, and any craftsman is happy to show off for ‘a pretty lady newswoman’ who wants to do a story on ‘the hard working men who make the country great’. It always made the doctor feel dirty when he had to go that far… but he has the Internet now.

But he's here for just a few items: A shotgun loaded with specialty ammunition, and some reloads. A charged rotary tool, plus a spare battery and a few chosen bits for it. A prototype grenade dating back to World War II… from a case that he took home after intercepting the shipment from the German research station… nasty item, but good to have for fighting robots.

The rotary tool is legal all by itself; carrying such a hand tool is odd, but not an issue. The doctor has a concealed carry permit (most people don't feel threatened by someone looking at them, and it's occasionally important to scare someone), so he can get away with the shotgun hidden in his coat. The german grenade, on the other hand… well, it's not specifically regulated because it just doesn't fit most jurisdictions’ legal definition of a grenade… but he doesn't plan to be searched by the police for anyone to test that in court.

After loading up, Benjamin checks the time, and then translates for time zones: Yeah, she'll still be up.

The doctor dials, and his target picks up on the third ring, “Hey doc, what's up?”

The doctor starts with some pleasantries before getting into it, “It's been a while… how's the Texan Longhorn?”

There's a bit of a pause, “You should really get on BookFace more. We broke up a while back.”

“Eugh, no. Have you read the actual agreements they make you accept?” The doctor shakes his head before continuing: Nobody does… “It's couched in legalese, but they say they're going to perform psychological experiments on you through the platform and use your data to tailor ads. More than that, the selection logic the platform uses to generate your feed is designed exclusively to keep you on the platform longer, by suggesting things similar to those you've previously spent time on, so that you'll be exposed to more advertisements… but this also triggers some emergent behavior of encouraging doomscrolling and echo chambers, which…”

“I'm pretty sure you didn't call to rant about the ills of society like some old man,” the woman on the other end laughs. “What do you need?”

“I'm being hunted by an unknown person who has some working knowledge of my limitations,” Benjamin begins to get to the meat of it, “has hinted at going after my long-time companions, and is using remotely piloted machines to reduce my ability to fight back. And… well, high pressure milk does nasty things to electronics, and in your case my power's side effects are just some temporary verbal ticks.”

The woman considers only a moment, “I can use your brand of ‘wrinkle cream’, and some time away from the territory my ex patrols. I'm on the next flight out… and YOU are covering that credit card bill.”

“I'll do you one better,” the doctor rolls his eyes, “I have a charter jet company I work with often enough. Just head to the airport in uniform, they'll have a concierge waiting for you shortly… laws require you go through security, but these folks are accustomed to people carrying hardware: You'll need to check your peacemaker in for all of five minutes. And don't bother packing; I'll budget a hundred grand to take you shopping for necessities, arrange a rental car for you, and set you up in one of the guest rooms.”

“Getting in the car now. You don't usually splurge like that…” the woman trails off distractedly as the doctor hears a car engine roar to life.

“I have the money, and this person plays dirty,” the life **** manipulator shrugs, "that needs to be shut down hard… and I had a close call, I'm not afraid to admit I'm a little spooked.”

“Driving, need to hang up…” the line goes dead.

Dr. Beaux makes a few more calls to arrange what he just volunteered….