Tim uses his borrowed skills to monitor the systems that Ramona is manipulating. It's interesting. Her power seem to make the computers retroactively justify giving her access. When she logs in, credentials appear in the user systems granting her access.
Following Tim's suggestions, Ramona sets her virtual credentials to self delete when she withdraws from the system, and it seems to work. When he looks at the system logs, there's no trace of her. And, at least with their current targets, there doesn't seem to be any special security deployed.
Ramona inspects the credentials that the system gives her, trying to see if the FBI will be able to trace her with the one's she's left. Of course, she could always go back into the FBI servers and erase the traces she left earlier--though it might be too late for the FBI to track her down."You know, if I were you, I wouldn't jump straight into your target next time. Bounce your... uh... signal from several different servers before going in for the kill, preferably in different countries. That will make it more difficult to track you. Which reminds me, we still have to figure out if whoever is after you is a super," Tim tells Ramona, while packing up the gear.
"Hmm... I think once we set up the server and Beacon, we might get that going more smoothly. We might be able to spread the word on the DL. Who knows? There might be a rich super willing to bankroll your project, not to mention others who can use their powers to build what you want," Tim says, smiling. This was what he wanted -- to help make the world a better place.Clancy thinks for a moment. "I'm not really sure? Maybe it just happened organically, networks of friends, and friends of friends, that grew until it became a community of trust? I'm not sure we have time for something like that."
"Sure! I get the knowledge base as well, so I can tell you the main textbooks and authors," Tim answers and proceed to write down a long list of references for Ramona.She turns to Tim and says, "Thanks for your help. You know, I think I would be better at this if I also had some mundane computer skills--it would also allow me to advertise my abilities while providing a non-super cover for them. Does your borrowed expertise allow you to recommend some stuff for me to read?" She shrugs. "If not, I can always go to the library."
"You know, I never really thought about it much, from your end of things. From, you know, a cop's perspective...Craig
The ex-cop looks at Craig. His expression slowly changes from concern to trying to hold back tears to sobbing.
In between sobs, he speaks.
"I'm not one of the good ones. I was a cop for fifteen years. I thought I would be one of the good ones. But I couldn't. I just stopped looking. Stopped hearing. I kept my head down, tried to be a good cop. Tried to train rookies that got assigned to me right. Didn't do anything wrong myself, but I couldn't stop others. I stopped trying to. Tried to be a good cop in my own little world. Didn't say anything if I saw anything. Thought that I'd be OK if I kept my hands clean. Didn't matter. Every time I looked the other way, didn't say anything, I got dirtier and dirtier."
"And then last week, I woke up. I could feel, everything, from everyone. It was like feeling worms crawling under my skin. I had to get out of there. What good's a cop with super-empathy? I wandered around, and everyone was screaming, blank-faced. Fear, sorrow, hatred, disgust, apathy, joy, contempt, anticipation."
"And, and then it got worst. I..." He looks around. "I can't say it here. Somewhere no once can hear. It's too much."
He leads Craig a short distance to an alley and leans in close, whispering.
"I can make other people feel. Whatever emotion I want. But I feel what they feel. It's like being between two mirrors, it just goes on forever. You're right, I need help. I don't deserve help. I have to help..."
He falls to his knees. "I... I don't know if I can help you, but I'll do whatever I can. I can't live for myself right now. Please, give me a purpose..."