[Lamb Freed] 8 – Humanitarian Efforts

Within an hour, I had a makeshift kitchen set up along one of the warehouse's walls, Booker helping with some of the heavy lifting as we unloaded box after box from small tears before getting to work. My idea was simple: food, water, and decent necessities were scarce within Shantytown, and the supply coming in was not even close to being enough to supply the district. 

I had an infinite supply of everything a city could ever need. So, I wanted to earn some brownie points with the locals who called Shantytown home by making as much food as possible and giving it out for free, alongside a copious amount of water and other necessities that the people here clearly lacked.

Booker grumbled in annoyance as I had him begin chopping vegetables while I gathered the seasonings, meat, and other ingredients I needed to make a beef stew. First, I seared the beef, then simmered the broth and vegetables.

As the stew started to develop, I added a generous helping of spices and herbs, and soon enough, the warehouse began to fill with the most delectable smell. As the pot simmered, I got to work on a second pot, then a third. By the fourth pot, the first was finished, and I took it off the heat, setting it aside on a burner to keep the food nice and hot.

By the sixth pot, I felt the need to add variations, so I started working on making a cheesy loaded potato and bacon soup, and a rather basic tomato soup to go alongside some solid food that one could dip in any of the soups if they wished.

I ignored Booker's odd look and started liberally using Telekinesis and Teleportation. It was surprisingly easy to cook nearly a dozen pots simultaneously without wasting time or effort.

With each step I took, my form burst into a red cloud, and I appeared somewhere else with another cloud. Then, with a wave of my hand, a distant ladle stored a pot while my other hand stored the pot before me, occasionally sprinkling in herbs and spices.

I was a whirlwind of activity, feeling electric, no, euphoric from the sheer freedom the Plasmids and Vigors gave me. 

As I moved the finished stews and soups to the side after they were finished, I got to work on the sides. An assortment of vegetables, fruits, and cheeses, as well as an assortment of refreshments, mostly water with some tea and soda. 

Looking over to Booker, I noted his silent gaze and beckoned him over, “Come here, Booker. I need you to cut some sausages into slices and form some beef patties.”

At first, it looked like he’d refuse, but he instead sighed, stepping forward to help me cook a literal feast. 

At first, I thought he’d be terrible, but he showed he had some training in cooking, likely due to his military experience. He was skilled with a knife and spatula, which he was using to cook a wide assortment of meat on a grill I summoned with a single tear. 

We worked all night making a wide range of food, and once morning arose, I bounced happily on my feet as I grabbed as much as I could carry.

Booker looked tired but didn’t complain; instead, he asked, “What’s your plan?”

"Did you already forget?" I asked, confused, before sighing, "We're going to set up a stall and start giving out food, water, medicine, and necessities that'll make the people who call Shantytown home more livable."

"And you're expecting them to just...accept it? These people are more likely to rob us than take anything from us that's supposedly free," Booker pointed out, making a relatively sound argument.

Sending him a glance and raised eyebrow, I ignored his clear exasperation at my reaction before speaking, "That's a good point, but here's a counterpoint. These people are starving, freezing, and dying of easily avoidable diseases. They may not approach us at first, but eventually those desperate for something warm to eat or even a drop of clean water will approach us, even if they don't trust us. After them, those more skeptical or just keeping an eye will approach, eventually word will spread, and the resistance will find us either way, even if they may not come right out and say that they are in the resistance."

Having to explain our plan again did annoy me a bit, but if it helped get the idea through his head, I'd say it as many times as needed. 

"Now come on, I saw a good spot to set up shop on our way here, and I'll need your help setting up a stall," I waved him to help me as I called forth a tear that spewed out an assortment of materials, wood, metal, and paint.

Our stall would not look pretty, but it would function.

...

[Unknown Vox Populi Safe house]

 Deep within Shanty town, a lone building was filled with people who were in a rush of movement as they moved crates, assembled makeshift weaponry, or painted flags and posters. At the center of this safe house, a woman stood over a large table, a map sprawled out over it. 

The woman and a few others were discussing strategies and key locations when a man knocked slowly before entering.

“Ma’am, got some news,” the man spoke softly, as he looked upon the leader of the Vox Populi, Daisy Fitzroy herself. 

"What is it?" She spoke with a frown, finally drawing her eyes away from the map and constantly shifting island locations.

"We've got trouble. Yesterday, some scouts noticed a fancy-looking white couple heading into Shantytown. They lost sight of them, but they appeared again this morning," the man quickly explained, before Daisey interrupted him. "Get to the point, Regenold."

"They've set up a stall on Ferguson Street, and seem to be attempting to give out free food, water, medicine, and small things like clothes, blankets, shoes, toilet paper, and more." Now that had Daisey's attention.

"Get someone to keep an eye on them. I want a report every twelve hours on the situation," she ordered the man before looking to the only other woman in the room. I want to know who they are. Get your people on it."

While they left the room to start their work, Daisey couldn't help but think this outcome would only end in one of three options. First, these people were experimenting with their food, likely to use whoever ate it as test subjects. The second was that they were horrible spies for Comstock or one of the other big players of Columbia. However, the third and last option was that they were trying to do something 'good,' in which case Daisey could use them. After all, Daisey always did need more eyes where their people were not allowed to go. 

Though Daisey scoffed at that last option, after all, there were not many white men and women in Columbia who would 'dirty' themselves to help the 'lower' cast, and those that did, were so far and few between that Daisey knew of that she could count them with just one of her hands.