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Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceUnderage Sex

Categories:

F/FGenOtherF/M

Fandoms:

Warhammer 40.000Worm - Fandom

Characters:

Taylor Hebert | Skitter | WeaverSherrel Bailey | SquealerEmma Barnes (Parahumans)Undersiders (Parahumans)Lisa Wilbourn | TattletaleAmy Dallon | Panacea | Red Queen

Additional Tags:

Alt-Power Taylor HebertVillain Taylor HebertPsyker Taylor HebertEarth Bet is a shitholeThe slope is steep and well lubricatedTaylor's boots have poor tractionPsychic AbilitiesPsychic ViolencePsychic BondPsychic MindfuckeryDubious Consent?Power PerversionPsychokinetic Tentacles

Language:

English

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Published:2023-09-20Completed:2025-01-28Words:289,573Chapters:27/27Comments:1,733Kudos:3,411Bookmarks:853Hits:236,812

A Ruinous Gift

Noodlehammer

Chapter 5: Consolidation

Chapter Text

XXXXX

February 17th, 2011.

Things had, as was beginning to become a pattern, not gone according to plan.

Given Skidmark's resistance to the Master aspect of her powers, she had expected to have some difficulty taking over the Merchants. Surely there were others who took drugs as a complement to their general shittiness, rather than out of despair? There definitely were, and quite a few of them even, but they didn't really give a damn about the leadership change as long as they got paid.

Only a handful had felt any kind loyalty for Skidmark. Those and the genuinely vicious bastards among them were the ones dumped for the cops to take.

Twenty-three people represented a significant chunk of the Merchants' core membership, the 'gangers for life' if you will, but in this case the low quality of the Merchants as a gang worked in her favor. They were easily replaced.

The Empire 88 and ABB must both have a far larger number of career criminals and affiliates, and their value to the gang must be higher since they had to administer territory, collect protection money, keep various operations running, report to the higher ups, talk to sympathizers, and so on.

The Merchants had no real territory, didn't collect protection money and had no sympathizers. Before she took over, the 'affiliates' were comprised entirely out of hobos, muggers and prostitutes, most of them drug addicts. The only reason they even qualified as a gang was because they had parahumans.

Most crucially, they by no means fell into the category of organized crime. She was aware that a proper drug dealing criminal syndicate didn't partake of its own supply. Don't get high on your own supply was practically a meme. The Merchants did exactly that to an almost comical degree. They were users that sold their watered down excess to fund the acquisition of more drugs. Skidmark had wanted it that way, because it made them easy to control. It also made them easy prey for someone with her powers.

The number of homeless bums that had flocked to her, drawn in by the psychic beacon of her power as Sherrel drove her around town, was actually rather alarming. Skidmark could have only dreamed of having that kind of manpower. But they were sobering up and wanting to be useful to her, so that was all good. It was the prostitutes that were her current biggest problem.

XXXXX

The previous day.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Taylor asked, carefully controlling her body language to project an image of confidence.

She was in an empty, abandoned warehouse and in front of her were a few dozen prostitutes. Most were black or Hispanic, with a significant white minority, a smaller Arab minority, and only two Asian girls. They ranged in age from alarmingly young to nearly forty. Some had worked in groups, like Louie's girls, and some had been independent streetwalkers. Skidmark and his people had gotten most of them addicted to drugs, a burden that she had relieved them of.

Back then, she had naively thought that they would take her generous offer of helping them do something better with their lives. That delusion had lasted for all of a day before their pimps started asking when they could put them back to work. When interrogated on the matter, it was revealed that it was actually the girls themselves asking the question through the pimps. Louie had been insufferably smug about it.

Taylor had tried to talk them out of it. In response, they had all gotten together and asked for this meeting. It almost had the feeling of an intervention.

"We want you to stop clam-jammin' us." One of the older women stated bluntly. "I get that a classy bitch like you don't like whores, but we like fuckin' and we like getting' paid for fuckin'."

Taylor resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Some of the formerly Merchant prostitutes had taken her up on the offer of getting out of the life, but the vast majority were right in front of her. There was also something vaguely funny about being considered a 'classy bitch' by anyone.

She supposed that she should have expected this after the encountering the first dozen or so bums that had no intention whatsoever of doing anything with their lives. It was not a big leap to assume that there would also be prostitutes that were perfectly fine with renting the use of their bodies out for money. She just hadn't expected there to be so many.

It was enough to make a girl question her understanding of society.

The worst for her personally by far was Katrina, a girl no more than seventeen whom she recognized from Winslow. Emma and the Brigade of Lesser Bitches had at times none too subtly implied that the two of them gave cheap blowjobs behind the bleachers together. Back then she had thought it was just a shot of opportunity at another of their victims. Now she knew that Katrina actually did that.

Hearing that the Merchants were under different management had drawn her to this meeting, as she also sold weed at school in addition to selling herself.

Taylor had tried getting her to stop, only for the unapologetically skanky girl to snort and ask why she would when she was making on average five hundred dollars a week from it. She wasn't even a hardcore drug addict or anything, just… really slutty. Sherrel had even commented how it was like hearing about herself from a few years ago.

The casual disregard for one's dignity was incomprehensible, but she couldn't really do anything about it.

"It's not that I dislike prostitutes, I simply think you deserve better." She tried.

"Aww, that's sweet of you, honey." Another one cooed with a very southern accent that Taylor suspected of being fake. She had a cowboy hat and everything. "But don't worry your purty little head about it. You already did us a good turn by helping us kick the drugs, now lets us do you a good turn and bring in some money."

"And you're all in agreement about this?" She asked again, vainly hoping for a no.

"Yeah."

"Why would I work when I can fuck?"

"Without the drugs I'll retire at thirty."

"Then you'll be bored and horny!"

"Fuck you, slut!"

"Who're you calling a slut, slut?"

"Bring on the dick!"

"Bring on the pussy, too!"

The vulgar deluge made Taylor mentally concede defeat. She did not understand them at all, but it was clear that these women were not interested in a more respectable lifestyle.

"Alright, fine!" She shouted to be heard over the increasingly rowdy whores. They quieted down instantly. "If you're sure you want this, then I'll figure something out."

"BUT!" She said when it looked like they were about to cheer. "But, I will be reorganizing things. If you're going to be working for me then this isn't going to be the same kind of haphazard operation Skidmark was running."

"You hear that, girls? We're getting organized!" One of them hooted.

"Black Handjob Escorts." Another hollered back.

Taylor felt unpleasant physical pain for the first time since her trigger at that one. And here she'd thought that the name of her gang was so cool...

"We are definitely not calling it that!" She said firmly.

"Skidmark ain't around anymore anyway." One joker had to get the final word in.

Remembering a kindly priest and his belief in the good of mankind, one of Taylor's mental iterations tried praying to the Lord in Heaven for the strength to deal with this crap. It didn't cost her anything, not even time. It also did nothing to soothe her irritation.

"AHEM!" She said sharply, once more shutting the prostitutes up. "I'm still in the process of fully absorbing all of the former Merchant assets. I may also need to reassign some of you to different… handlers."

"She means pimps." One of the women 'helpfully' translated.

"Thank you, Angel." Taylor said tightly to the prostitute with the obviously fake name.

Some of said pimps had been a bit too liberal with the application of what they called 'the pimp hand' for her liking. Although she was beginning to see why.

"Boss! You remember my name?" Angel gasped.

"I remember all of your names." Taylor asserted.

They didn't believe her, which resulted in a five minute digression where she proved that she did, in fact, remember all of their names. Granted, she was cheating with her powers, but still. The boss remembering the names they gave seemed novel to them and they were visibly happier about it.

Why couldn't you be this happy about my offer to find you something else to do?

The annoyed thought was pushed into the same cluster of mental iterations that was wondering why any woman would want to work as a prostitute.

"The point is that you will still have at least a few days of downtime before I can start sending clients your way."

"Ooh, clients! We usually just call them johns."

Taylor ignored the interruption and continued talking. "Expect things to continue changing over time. If at any point you decide that life as a prostitute is no longer for you, get in contact with me and I'm sure some opportunities can be made available to you."

She was especially hoping that the ones with children would take her up on that.

"The new boss is too classy." Came a muttered complaint from a tiny Latina to her friend. "I can't tell if she's being serious or threatening us mafioso style."

"I know what you mean, but I think she's serious." Said friend whispered back, heedless of the warehouse acoustics that were allowing everyone to hear them. "Total virgin."

"Total."

Mom, I tried, but some people just don't want to be helped. Taylor figured that even her proudly feminist mother would have given up at this point.

XXXXX

Present day.

"The problem is that we don't really control any territory." Taylor said to Sherrel on the topic, mimicking the TV yoga instructor's movements and sticking her butt up in the air. There was music blaring at a volume that made conversation just barely possible, since she and Sherrel had discovered a shared fondness for loud music.

Sherrel, butt similarly up in the air, nodded. "Skidmark tried a few times, but we always got driven out by someone. If it's not the ABB, then it's the Empire and if it's not the Empire then it's the PRT."

As per her resolution during her fight with Sophia, she had taken up yoga in order to prevent any more unfortunately-timed cramps and managed to convince Sherrel to join her in limbering up. She had also tried to get the Tinker to join in on her runs, arguing that you could never go wrong with cardio.

Sherrel had categorically refused, claiming that running at any kind of speed with 'big fucking tits' was a nightmare. The vehicle Tinker was content to stay in shape from lugging around heavy car parts, which to be fair was definitely working.

Taylor tried to convince herself that being flat-chested was an advantage. It didn't quite work and she occasionally found herself giving envious glances to the Tinker's chest. Those things were ridiculous.

"So if we set up a brothel in a building somewhere…?

"It's gonna get raided as soon as it starts looking worth raiding." Sherrel confirmed.

"So we either have to hide it somehow or make it too dangerous to be worth raiding." Taylor said thoughtfully, changing position.

"Right now, we just don't have the reputation to warn off anyone." Sherrel pointed out. "Skidmark was always ranting about people disrespecting the Merchants. He was full of shit a lot of the time, but it's true that villains need reputation. Nobody fucks with Lung because everyone knows that he can and will kill you if you do."

"And everybody fucked with the Merchants because you couldn't make anyone pay for doing it." Taylor drew the thought out to its obvious conclusion. "So, we have to make it clear that the Black Hand isn't to be fucked with before we can establish a territory."

She sometimes worried about what associating with Sherrel was doing to her vocabulary. Just a little bit.

"Yeah, but we'll have to wait." Sherrel twisted around and plopped herself butt first on the yoga mat. "The next Endbringer attack could happen any day now and villains who cause a ruckus in the lead up get their shit kicked in by everyone."

Right, it was a commonly accepted superstition that the Endbringers were drawn to conflict. A lot of people feared that even mentioning them would attract their attention. Probably bogus, but nobody wanted to risk it.

"You think we should go help out when it happens?" Taylor asked, switching to a new pose.

"Fuck no, are you insane?!" Sherrel goggled at her. "I wouldn't be able to do much even if I could bring a tank with me and I don't see how your powers would be any use either. Let other people get killed fighting those things."

"I might be able to counter the Simurgh, or do search and rescue." Taylor wasn't quite ready to give up.

"Taylor, honey, I know you wanted to be a hero or some shit, but seriously, don't be a hero!" The Tinker said sternly. "Capes way more powerful than you have been throwing themselves into the meat grinder for twenty fuckin' years and haven't done jack shit. You don't even have your powers all figured out."

"I guess Dad wouldn't want me going either." She winced, knowing that she hadn't been talking to her father as much as she should have… or could have. She had also avoided mentioning her new gang leader status. They hadn't done anything newsworthy just yet and the PRT was keeping quiet, as she had expected they would.

"Damn right." Sherrel agreed. "If you try to go, I swear I'll ask him for permission to tie your skinny ass to the bed."

He'd give it, too, if it kept her away from the Endbringers. And she wasn't that skinny anymore. Although compared to Sherrel...

"Could you make some kind of stealth car to drive clients to the prostitutes?" Taylor changed the subject, not daring to say anything even vaguely sexual around the woman who had formerly been known as Squealer for more than one reason.

Sherrel had by now become used to the way Taylor could suddenly jump back to an earlier point in the conversation and nodded thoughtfully. "I could, but you know that's not gonna work in the long term, right? Tinkertech breaks down and I couldn't make enough of them to keep up with the business."

"Then how about doing it the other way around? Instead of making a bunch of small cars, make a big tinkertech bus or something and use it to deliver girls all around town on demand?" Taylor felt dirty just discussing the topic, but Louie had warned her that letting the prostitutes find their own business would be much worse.

"That's…. a fucking great idea!" Sherrel's eyes were distant. "We could charge so much extra for something like that. Make it so peeps can fuck whores in it and we've got a service nobody else can offer."

"I'd like it to be at least a little classy, Sherrel." Taylor protested plaintively.

"Bitch, it would be super fucking classy." Sherrel protested right back. "We could stuff that bad boy full of all kinds of kinky shit."

"Not quite what I had in mind. Look, I know it's a bit much to expect to attract high class clientele right away, but I'd rather not subject the girls to sleazeballs." She tried to articulate.

Sherrel just stared at her for a long moment and then spoke as if talking to a small child. "Taylor, those high class people? They're the sleazeballs. They're the type that'll snort coke out of a hooker's asshole and think they're being original. If we offer whores in a mobile tinkertech sex dungeon, they'll pay through the nose just because it's new and they're stupid, bored perverts with too much money. Some of them would even come from half way across the country for that kind of shit. We might even bring in some Euro-trash once word gets out."

"Oh." Taylor really had no rebuttal to that. "You think the girls would be okay with that?"

"Pfft, okay?" Sherrel snorted. "Those bitches are used to blowing dirty cocks in back alleys. They'd lick your ass for a chance at what you're already trying to set up, never mind getting to fuck big-tipping rich boys in a tinkertech bus."

And yet they weren't willing to try actually getting proper jobs! It wasn't like she was being unreasonable or anything – she knew that the job market in Brockton Bay was shit – but they didn't even think about trying it.

… Maybe her expectations had been a bit off. Again. Taylor quietly swore to herself to turn this whole disgusting business into a respectable and sophisticated escort service. A number of mental iterations spun out, planning what she would need for that, starting with a tutor to turn that pack of vulgar women into something resembling ladies.

"Right. Well, there's still some logistical issues to think about before we can put that into play – like advertising – so give me some time to think about it before you start building." Taylor said, already dedicating a few hundred mental iterations to thinking about the potential problems.

"What do you mean?" Sherrel frowned in confusion. "We can just spread the news by word of mouth. It'll take a while to really get going, but once it does we can have people call us up and ask for a pick up on the Bang Bus. Hey, you think we can combine a taxi service and whoring?"

We are definitely not calling it that. I need to make it clear that nobody in this fucking gang except me is allowed to name anything. "And what happens when the PRT decides to use that so they can seize our 'illegal tinkertech'?"

"Oh. They would do that, wouldn't they?" The Tinker scowled.

"It might work if you can install some kind of sensor array that would let us scan for stuff like radio communication or weapons or even parahumans." Taylor continued thoughtfully. "Combined with the stealth tech you already have, the driver could easily decide to just slip away if anything blips on it. They wouldn't be able to afford to keep setting up ambushes if we never get caught in them."

"I can definitely do a sensor for radio signals and weapons!" Sherrel nodded enthusiastically, getting back into the current yoga pose. "Parahumans… I might be able to make something that detects tinkertech and maybe some exotic powers, but not parahumans themselves. But yeah, if we give them the slip a few times and leave them holding their dicks with nothing to show for it, they'll have to give up. Hah, can you imagine the look on Armsmaster's face when he figures out we got the better of him?"

Taylor smiled bemusedly at the cackling Tinker. "Sherrel, did you have a crush on Armsmaster? Or do you still have one?"

The chesty blonde slipped and almost face-planted into the mat. "What the fuck?! Where did you get that idea?"

"You seem awfully focused on him." The psychic said casually, internally gleeful at being able to turn the tables on the older woman for once. "In fact, you really seem to want him to notice you. It's nothing to be ashamed about, I had a crush on him, too." And she had those panties with his face on them.

"Fuck no!" Sherrel shouted in denial, glaring at Taylor with an actual blush on her face. She wilted under the knowing smirk, though. "Alright, fine! So what if I wanted him to take me for a ride on his bike?!"

That had been one of Taylor's fantasies, too, after particularly trying days in Winslow. The dashing Protectorate hero just pulling up to the school, laying down the law and taking her for a ride around town to make her feel better.

Reality had been, as usual, disappointing.

"I said it was okay." She said mildly.

"Yeah, yeah." Sherrel grumbled. "Too bad he's such an asshole. First time we met in masks he insulted one of my rides. Waste of a perfectly good beefcake."

"I didn't get to talk to him much, but he did seem pretty rigid." Taylor agreed.

"I wouldn't mind him being rigid, if you know what I mean." Sherrel snickered and it was once again Taylor's turn to be embarrassed. Was she seriously going to need to watch out for possible innuendo in every word?

"Anyway, don't start on the mobile brothel idea yet." She once again jumped to an earlier point in the conversation, having never stopped thinking about it. "It sounds like a big investment and we can't afford to make any wrong moves right at the start."

"Right." Sherrel was still smirking. "We are going to need to start bringing in cash though, and we've got a lot of drugs just sitting around right now."

Taylor's lips thinned and she glared at the floor. "I really don't like drugs."

"If we don't deal them, someone else will." Sherrel said uncompromisingly. "Even with your powers, you can't clean out the whole city. There's always going to be people who just want to get high. Hell, I just wanted to get high before I triggered. Getting rid of drugs would be like trying to get rid of booze. Can't be done."

The blonde's words rang annoyingly true. Taylor would love to just flush all of that poison out of the city, but the Prohibition had demonstrated quite clearly what happened when someone tried a hamfisted ban. Letting people destroy their bodies for cheap thrills was, somehow, the lesser evil. Not that she had anything even remotely approaching the ability to enforce such a ban.

She had put off this discussion by claiming that she needed to get a grip on Skidmark's 'organization' first, which was true enough. She'd spent the time since taking over meeting people, seeing if they were on board or not. Now she was out of excuses to stall and would have to actually start acting like a criminal cape gang leader instead of just saying she was one.

"Fine." She bit out. "But we only sell to people who come to us, we don't push drugs on anyone. Also, absolutely no kids and no hard drugs in schools." Demanding that even weed be kept out of a place like Winslow would be asking for too much and she knew it. "No more of this jumping people in alleys and forcibly addicting them, either."

Taylor had been pissed when she found out that a few of the Merchant drug pushers did that. The geniuses with that idea had been among the lot she'd dumped in front of the cops.

The tactic wasn't even all that effective. A single hit of cocaine or heroin or crystal meth or whatever could usually be overcome as long as there wasn't more being waved in your face while you were going through withdrawal, according to Sherrel. It would absolutely suck, but the addiction wasn't so deep in your brain as to be irresistible for most people. Plus, Brockton Bay had Panacea in it. New Wave's miracle healer was capable of flushing the drugs out with a touch and could apparently be convinced to do so for people that had been drugged against their will.

"And I'm also going to meet with the dealers' clients to see if I can sober them up."

"Alright. It'll hurt our income a bit, but we can focus more on the rich fucks that buy big." Sherrel shrugged, then laughed at her quizzical look. "What, did you think only people in crappy neighborhoods bought drugs? Naw, those are good for getting fresh minions and cheap whores, but the big money comes from people with, you know, actual money."

That… made sense. She and her father had always been on the low end of middle class after Mom died and stopped bringing in her university professor wages and there was no way she'd have been able to afford to regularly buy drugs at the prices Sherrel told her they were sold at even if she wanted to. The more expensive drugs could cost hundreds of dollars per week, even thousands for the most hardcore users. For less frequent substance abusers, it could still total up to several thousand per year at least, which was more than the Hebert family budget could have sustained.

Logically, that meant that only people in higher income brackets could do it, whether that income was legal or illegal, which the actual Merchants definitely weren't. Skidmark had apparently been wasting money on trying to become a big shot villain in Brockton Bay by handing out unaffordable drugs to his minions.

"Alright, how do the dealers find their clients, then?" Taylor asked, grudgingly accepting that she was going to have to learn this stuff and fully turning her mind to it.

"Depends on the dealer, I think." Sherrel frowned in thought. "Night clubs are always good places to find people looking to party harder. Like, I heard that a lot of people went to the Palanquin just so they could get high from touching Newter."

Ah, Faultline's Crew. Mercenary capes and villains only on a technicality. They owned the Palanquin night club and generally only took jobs out of town. Taylor had looked into them while researching things.

"For the most part it gets around by word of mouth." Sherrel was still saying. "Skidmark used to laugh about how some of the white dealers had thugs from the Empire buying from them. The ABB is even less picky and Lung barely gives a shit what his men do as long as it doesn't make him look bad."

Taylor shouldn't be surprised by the hypocrisy, but for some reason she was.

"Wait a minute, why don't the Empire and ABB have their own drug distribution business?" She asked. "They're bigger, more organized and have more people. It doesn't make any sense for the Merchants to have had a leg up on drug dealing."

"Lung is too far up his own ass to act as a middleman for anyone, or to allow anyone he considers as belonging to him to do it, so the ABB only has what drugs they steal and what they can cook up locally." Sherrel explained, snorting derisively. "And the Empire does deal, but they're kinda weird about it."

"Weird how?" Taylor asked curiously.

"It's like… they've got a bunch of different ideas about what's okay and what isn't." Sherrel gesticulated vaguely. "Like, Hookwolf hates drugs for example."

"Hookwolf, the murder blender himself, hates drugs." Taylor deadpanned incredulously, not having expected a man like that to have any kind of scruples.

"He's got this… warrior honor thing going on or something?" Sherrel explained uncertainly, clearly not getting it. "I kinda tried to run him over a while back and he started ranting about it, but I was pretty high so I don't really remember what he was saying. In any case, if you get caught dealing by him or his crew you get an express trip to intensive care. And if you get caught dealing to his crew he likes to take off people's hands."

"Huh." She had a feeling that Hookwolf's notions of honor were as self-serving and screwy as the PRT's ideas of justice, but she supposed it made sense that not all the Empire capes moved in perfect lockstep, no matter how Kaiser presented things to the public. She'd listened to some of the man's recorded speeches during her research and he was clearly full of shit.

A good speaker, but definitely full of shit. He'd sounded like a politician, in other words.

"So yeah, bottom line is that the Empire exports more drugs than it imports." Sherrel continued. "No idea where they get them, but it's what let us take over local sales. Skidmark was what you'd call a mid-level dealer – we'd drive to New York every couple of months to stock up on new product and sell it here."

"And nobody ever caught you because your cars have stealth tech." Taylor finished. "It wouldn't even matter if we refused to deal, because they'd just sell it to someone else."

"Now you're getting it." Sherrel nodded. "And they'll definitely send a cape assassin to kill us all if you try to stop them. You ever seen Scarface? These big shot drug dealers hate it when someone screws with their business."

Taylor had not seen Scarface, but she got the idea. Damn it, this is way more complicated than I thought it was. Locally, Skidmark was the third biggest problem in the city, but on a larger scale he was nothing.

The bottom line was that being a villain wasn't going to be as simple as using sketchy powers and being at odds with the heroes while fighting the other gangs. If she was going to make Brockton Bay less of a shithole, then she was going to need resources and manpower, which meant money. The only way to make lots of money in a short time that she could see was with prostitution and drug dealing. Trying to get the prostitutes to stop had already failed and if she didn't deal drugs then someone else would, so keeping the moral high ground wouldn't even help anyone. By all accounts, it would actually hurt people because it would be bastards with far less scruples than her doing it. This was basically just an extension of why she'd decided that she could do more good for the city as a villain in the first place.

"Alright, we'll start selling drugs again tomorrow." Taylor finally said, pursing her lips. "And we're going to move the drugs and part of money somewhere more secure. I'm not comfortable using this place as a stash house on top of it being your workshop and our lair. Too many eggs in one basket."

"Right. Got anything in mind?"

"Ideally somewhere out of the city limits. That way we won't have to keep guarding it because someone might stumble on it randomly."

"What? Like, hide it in the woods?" Sherrel asked with a confused frown. "If we do that, we'll have a bunch of squirrels tripping balls in no time. Little bastards get into everything."

"I was thinking more along the lines of underground." Taylor explained. "Can you make a drilling machine?"

The Tinker blinked in confusion. "Ummm, I guess so? Would be a bitch and a half, though. We'd probably be better off just spreading it around our other stash houses. Or making a new one."

Taylor made a discontent noise in her throat. Yeah, that would be easier, but by no means more secure. The fact of the matter was that she wanted to store that stuff in a location that nobody except she, Sherrel, and maybe Larry knew about. A location that wasn't in danger of falling victim to random squatters, Lung's flaming tantrums, vigilante heroics or any number of other misfortunes. There were simply too many dangers in Brockton Bay for her to be comfortable with and now that she had decided to take over drug sales… well, she'd rather they not be lost.

Best case scenario, the authorities would destroy them and slow the drug trade for maybe a month or so. Worst case, another gang would take them to sell, one that was much less concerned with doing the least possible harm.

"Alright, then how about a truck or car with a big, armored safe in the back? If we could just drive it to some hidden spot and leave the stealth generator running, or even just cover it with a camo blanket or something. Or hell, make it look like it's a scrapped pile of junk on the outside so that nobody looks at it twice."

"That I can do." Sherrel said enthusiastically. "Not leaving the stealth generator on – that would burn it out too fast – but I can make it look like a piece of shit no problem. I even know a spot outside the city limits where we can leave it. There's already a bunch of abandoned cars there and nobody's going to look twice at another one. I still go there for salvage occasionally."

"In that case you could just make an airtight safe and leave it in one of the existing wrecks." Taylor pointed out. One of her mental iterations wondered if this was a sign of Sherrel's vehicle Tinker specialization rearing its head. "Or we can have Larry pile up a bunch of junk over it."

His powers were very useful for moving stuff around like that. She might have suggested leaving the safe in his old trash heap, but Larry had said that he wanted to get an apartment. He said it would make him feel more human and she could hardly deny him that.

"I think I can do that." Sherrel nodded slowly. "A safe isn't a vehicle, but I can put together an airtight metal box easy enough. Probably won't even count as tinkertech."

"Sounds good, and we'll still need your stealth tech to get us there without anyone getting suspicious. Sorry for putting more work on you." Taylor apologized awkwardly, because it was true that all her plans seemed to hinge on Gearshift's vehicles to get off the ground.

"It's cool, I like having my babies appreciated." Sherrel smirked. "Rely on me as much as you want, Boss."

The fledgling gang leader smiled, once again feeling that increasingly familiar sense of rightness at being in charge. "And while you're doing that I'm going to need to talk to my dad."

That evoked much less pleasant feelings.

"Oof, good luck."

"Thanks. And you still need to call the dentist."

Sherrel's expression melted like a wax candle and she immediately started whining. "Come on, I thought you were joking about that!"

"I wasn't, you're getting your teeth fixed."

"Please don't make me do this, Boss."

"What are you, nine? Call the dentist, set up an appointment, use bribery to arrange sessions twice a week."

"Twice a week?!"

"You'll thank me for it in the end."

XXXXX

The phone barely had a chance to ring a single time before Danny grabbed it.

"Danny Hebert speaking." He tried to keep his voice professional because he was at work and it was possible that the call was work related, but he wasn't sure he was completely successful.

"Hey, Dad. It's me." The voice of his little girl replied.

"Taylor." Danny signed in relief. With what was going on, he was constantly afraid that their every conversation would be the last. "How are you doing, kiddo?"

"Okay, but I've got some stuff I need to talk to you about." He could almost hear her wincing.

"Is this about you taking over the Merchants?" Danny tried to keep his temper down. Hearing that from the PRT had not been a happy moment.

"Oh, the PRT told you." She instantly deduced, sounding a strange mix of relieved and annoyed. "Yeah, I took over the Merchants. We're calling ourselves the Black Hand now."

"What happened to staying away from other capes?"

"I never agreed to that."

Danny took a deep breath. Don't make this into a fight that nobody will win. "Taylor, what you're doing is dangerous."

"Being a cape is dangerous."

She was defensive and expecting an argument, but clearly had no intention of backing down. Danny wanted to shout, but it was too late for that. He should have protected her before she became a cape, before three teenaged psychopaths broke his little owl so badly that she triggered.

"Just… please tell me you aren't planning to fight the Empire and ABB?" He knew that she intended to do exactly that. The PRT had shown him the letter she sent in another one of their attempts to get him to sign the Wards contract, a probationary one this time.

"I'm going to make this city better." She pointedly didn't tell him what he wanted to hear. "You won't have druggies hanging around the docks anymore."

Danny would gladly put up with druggies constantly squatting in their warehouses if it got him his little girl back. "Taylor, I don't think these people are a good influence on you."

"I'm straightening them out." She defended. "Gearshift– that's Squealer's new cape name – even said she'd get your permission to tie me down so I can't join any Endbringer fights if she had to."

Horror rolled through him at the mere thought of his daughter fighting those monsters, and gave him extremely mixed feelings on the former Merchant Tinker. He'd been doing some research on the capes in Brockton Bay recently and hadn't heard anything good about the woman, but if she could keep his daughter from fighting Endbringers…

"That's a relief… you can tell her she definitely has my permission to do that." Danny managed to say. "But what about all the others? You can't tell me they're good people."

"I've kicked all the really bad apples out of the gang and left them for the cops."

He had actually heard about that through an acquaintance in the police department. They'd been baffled, but pleased by the easy arrests. Although some of them might walk due to lack of solid evidence.

"But you're still a gang." Taylor had flat out said it herself just now. "How are you going to fund it?"

"… I can't stop people from buying and selling drugs. The best I can do is control it." She replied in a very quiet voice. "And most of the prostitutes didn't want to leave. They're asking me to put them back to work, and getting pretty pushy about it."

He had known that would the answer, but had been hoping to be proven wrong. "Taylor, what would your mother think?"

"Mom wouldn't have let me trigger in the first place."

Something in Danny's chest squeezed painfully. I guess one low blow deserves another.

There was silence on the line for nearly two full minutes. Danny wanted to apologize, but he didn't want to condone what his daughter was doing, leaving him paralyzed with indecision.

"I'll call you later." She eventually said. "Bye."

"Taylor, wait!" Danny rushed to say, but she had already hung up.

He put the phone down and buried his face in his hands. Not for the first time or the hundredth, he wished that Annette was here. She would have known what to do.

XXXXX

February 19th, 2011.

Aisha Laborn looked up from the TV when there was a knock on the door, frowning. It was kind of late for visitors and they didn't ever get any of those anyway. Unless you counted Mom's dealer, which she didn't.

Not bothering to wake up her mother, the young girl walked over to the door and looked through the peephole.

A tall white girl with glasses, her face hidden behind a black scarf and a dark blue hood looked back. Aisha had the eerie feeling of someone looking back at her, even though it shouldn't be possible.

Is that a fucking cape? She wondered incredulously. Why the fuck would a cape be knocking on her door?

Well, whatever the reason, this was interesting. And if this mystery cape was hostile, then they wouldn't have knocked and waited politely, now would they?

Thus reasoned, she opened the door, but didn't unlatch the chain, because she wasn't a fucking moron.

"Yeah?" Aisha asked suspiciously.

"Good evening." The cape said politely. "Is this the residence of a Celia Laborn?"

This was getting weirder and weirder.

"Who are you, and what do you want with her?" Aisha continued interrogating the cape.

Which yeah, she knew was fucking dangerous. She was about 70% sure that her brother, Brian, was a cape and knew that she could sass him, but for all she knew this unknown cape was as bad as Hookwolf. Probably not, because Hookwolf wouldn't have knocked, but still.

"My name is Psyker. I run a gang called the Black Hand and have recently taken over the Merchants. As part of my hostile takeover, I am instituting some policy changes, among them establishing restrictions on drug sales. I was told that your mother is a frequent buyer and would like to speak to her in order to ascertain whether or not we will continue selling to her."

Aisha blinked. What the fuck?

First of all, Skidmark got his shit wrecked by this new cape? Fucking awesome.

Second of all, this girl sounded more like a literature professor than her literature professor. The fuck was up with that?

Third of all, since when do gangs care who they sell drugs to?

"What if I don't want you selling drugs to my mom?" Aisha asked defiantly.

"I would prefer not to sell to her either, especially now that I know she has a daughter." Psyker agreed, taking the wind out of her sails. "May I speak to her? If she is a true addict instead of a recreational user, my powers will allow me to sober her up."

Well isn't that fucking convenient.

"Just like that?" Aisha asked sarcastically.

"Aisha? Who's at the door?" Her mother's groggy voice came from the direction of the bedroom, followed by shuffling footsteps.

"Go back to bed, Mom!" Aisha yelled, not wanting her mother anywhere near this mystery cape just yet, not when she didn't know what the catch was.

But of course, Celia Laborn was a dumb bitch and didn't listen. Aisha turned just in time to see her mother's tired, unfocused eyes sharpen. It was a look she couldn't recall her having more than a couple of times in her life, because the woman was always high, drunk, or wishing she was.

"Celia Laborn." Psyker intoned, voice thick with disapproval. "I've taken your addiction and your withdrawal symptoms. Your dealer will no longer sell to you. Take better care of your daughter."

And with that, the weirdo cape turned around and walked off.

Aisha shut the door in confusion. What the hell had just happened?

"Aisha…" Her mother said tearfully. Like, actually crying and looking guilty as fuck. "I'm sorry, I've been such a terrible mother."

A moment later, she was being hugged and getting promises that it would be better from now on. It wasn't the first time a promise like that had been made, but this time it wasn't a blatant lie. Could still be a lie, just not a blatant one.

Aisha… needed to talk to Brian about the bullshit that had just happened.

XXXXX

Taylor pulled down her scarf and hood with an aggravated sigh. She might have squeezed Celia Laborn's mind a bit more tightly than necessary, but the woman was a mother for pity's sake! Did she have no shame or was the drug addiction really that strong?

Well, whatever. It wouldn't be a problem anymore. Celia had long since started hating herself for ruining her life with drugs, but couldn't muster the strength to give them up. Taylor was happy transfer that need to herself so that Celia's lack of willpower would mean obeying her word. Hopefully she would get her act together and be a proper mother now. And maybe stop letting her daughter dress so trashily, because seeing such a beautiful twelve or thirteen-year-old girl dressing the same way as Sherrel was downright disturbing.

XXXXX

February 20th, 2011.

"Good Evening, Ms. Hebert." Coil said smoothly. "I have something of yours."

He pulled the black hood off Danny Hebert's head, never breaking eye contact with the hooded girl on the other end of the screen. He'd had his men deliver a laptop to her just for this purpose. He still had information on a number of former Merchants, so it wasn't hard to arrange.

"There's no need to pretend. I've known about you since before you even chose your cape name." he continued before she could try to deny anything. "I work for the PRT in my civilian identity, you see. Remove your mask."

Next to him, Tattletale jerked in surprise and stared at him with wide eyes. No doubt she was baffled that he would reveal such information so brazenly, but it wasn't like he intended to keep this timeline.

Taylor Hebert obeyed his instructions, angrily pulling down her scarf and glaring at him murderously. "If you hurt him…"

"All I want is for you to tell me about your powers. Do that and your father goes unharmed." Coil said dismissively.

Her face became a stone mask. The man in question mumbled something unintelligible into the gag.

"I see you need proof of how serious I am." Coil said, picking up a hammer and smashing it down on one of Danny Hebert's fingers.

He screamed into the gag, Tattletale jerked again with whatever her power told her. Psyker's gaze became even more murderous, but she didn't react. Impressive self-control.

"Your powers, Ms. Hebert." Coil said coldly, holding the hammer up again.

"I'm a Thinker." She spat viciously. "I can split my attention."

Coil turned to Tattletale, pointedly brandishing the hammer when she didn't reply immediately and letting her know that she had better tell him everything.

His pet Thinker flinched and started talking. "She can multitask. Like, holy shit can she multitask. She doesn't think she has a limit."

Holy shit indeed. It might not sound as impressive as the ability to shoot lasers or punch down buildings, but Coil was of the opinion that Thinker powers were by far the most dangerous when properly applied. Humanity had risen to supremacy solely on the virtue of its ability to think better than any other animal. Accord's only power was the ability to think, yet he was one of the most dangerous capes in the country. Coil himself was contending with gangs far more overtly powerful than his own organization because he could run circles around them mentally. Cauldron's bogeyman, the woman in the fedora, he suspected of being an insanely powerful Thinker.

The ability to infinitely multitask was not a weak power by any stretch. It was a power worthy of a mastermind. Given enough time, resources and manpower, Psyker could become a serious player just by being able to brood over a million intersecting plots while doing something innocuous.

If this was real and not just a precognitive simulation that he was experiencing in real time, Coil would have continued to ask questions. He would have interrogated her on how she had used this power to take over the Merchants and dug for more information.

But it was not real, despite his belief that he was splitting timelines, and his Shard could not account for the Warp. Moreover, his Shard was part of the undeployed Thinker network, gained from a deal with Cauldron. It was running in power saving mode that the Entities used while travelling between planets, and operating without oversight from the defunct top level node. To top it all off, the Queen Administrator Shard that his target was connected to was the Warrior network's second level node, and had a vested interest in preserving its host. The Warrior network's top level node was also not providing oversight that could stop the rogue Shard from acting on its own objectives.

Unable to get a cost effective answer for the anomalies surrounding the Queen Administrator's host, receiving no response from the top level nodes to its request for instructions, and the directive to always seek out new data suspended due to being in power saving mode, Coil's Shard gave him a simulation that incorporated only understood variables and then nudged his mind elsewhere.

"Thank you, Ms. Hebert. Now on to the matter of Skidmark. Is he dead?" Coil asked.

"Yes, I killed him when I took over the Merchants." Psyker answered, still glaring murderously, obviously planning to do the same to him.

"Impressively ruthless." Coil commended. "One final question. If I hadn't kidnapped your father, would you have been willing to work for me?"

There was a second's pause before she replied with an utterly flat tone. "Maybe."

He pointedly looked towards Tattletale, who gave him a similarly hateful look as she spoke. "No."

That was as expected. Coil had spent the past few days compiling as much of a psychological profile on Taylor Hebert as he could on short notice. While there was no mention of the ruthless streak she'd showed, it most certainly did portray a girl who would have serious authority issues.

"Understandable." Coil said and bashed Danny Hebert's skull in, maintaining eye-contact.

"You are going to die a slow, slow death." Psyker said and cut the connection.

"She meant that, for both of us." A very pale Tattletale said, edging away from him.

"Too bad she won't remember this." Coil chuckled, spinning the hammer in his hand and approaching the annoying blonde with clear intent. "And neither will you."

Beating Tattletale to death with a blunt object was as therapeutic as ever. Once he'd had his fun, he closed the timeline.

Back in his base in the other timeline, Coil sat at his desk. Danny Hebert was still at work and Psyker still had no idea of his interest in her.

This latest experiment had revealed that making a long-term enemy of Psyker would be unwise. Subordination or elimination were the only options. The cautious play would be elimination and he had already confirmed a couple of days ago that she could be easily killed at the moment by his mercenaries. Concealing his involvement in the matter would be harder, and he would lose a potentially useful resource if he went that route.

He had originally approached Tattletale with a genuine offer of employment in several timelines now discarded, because whatever she might think of him, he did understand that you drew more flies with honey than with vinegar. Unfortunately, no matter how he pitched it, the blonde annoyance took one look at him and tried to skip town, so he had to be more forceful.

After getting to know her, Coil realized that Tattletale had far too little self-control to really amount to anything. She could never help herself from running her mouth and needling people. That was why he had her put together the Undersiders instead of trusting her with his deeper operations. Aside from the fact that he'd needed to force her into his employ of course.

Now here was another powerful Thinker. Maybe Psyker would be the lieutenant Tattletale could have been?

He had thought she would be a harried girl forced into villainy by circumstance and paranoia, but her killing of Skidmark put a different spin on things. If she was already sufficiently hardened and ruthless to commit murder, then she would never have lasted as a hero anyway. She might never have intended to be one in the first place, which would certainly explain why she'd landed on her feet so well after Shadow Stalker's blunder.

But that carried potential complications of its own. If she had always been planning to be a villain, then it was certainly not as a subordinate to anyone. And then there was the nature of her power.

It was known to the PRT that Thinkers found other people incredibly aggravating, and vice versa. Accord was driven into murderous rages by how disorderly everyone was in comparison to him, Tattletale couldn't stand not being the smartest person in the room and flipped her lid if she was called stupid, Crane the Harmonious tunnel-visioned on her martial arts obsession to the point where she would kidnap people if they refused to learn from her. There were dozens of other examples that he had read about. Even the PRT's think tank project WEDGDG needed to have its Thinkers firmly separated to keep them from killing each other. Coil had no such flaw, but then, he wasn't a natural trigger.

How bad would it be for Psyker, whose visible actions were only the barest sliver of her thoughts? Her choice of name already hinted at a certain arrogance, much like Tattletale and her claims of being psychic to unnerve people.

Bad enough that she likely would not accept him having any authority over her. Kidnapping her and forcing her to work for him would also not work – her power was such that it could only thrive in a position of control.

Elimination would definitely be the safe bet, but the thought of all that wasted potential grated on him. Truly powerful pure Thinkers were so rare. Perhaps an alliance similar to what he had with Accord? After Brockton Bay was secured, Psyker could easily be set up in another city.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. A more long term investment. They could set up a cabal of powerful Thinkers, each ruling their own city from the shadows. Far enough away from each other to avoid stepping on any toes, but close enough to support each other. Accord sometimes called him when he needed a risky idea tested, and Coil called Accord when he needed a complex plan made. Adding a third to their agreement, one who specialized in multitasking and operational control, could be a significant boon.

Coil split the timeline again and picked up the phone in the one he intended to close later. The same man that had delivered the laptop to Psyker's man in the timeline where Danny Hebert was abducted and tortured would now be sent to deliver an invitation for a meeting. One instance of Coil would meet with Psyker at a place of her choosing, alone, while another stayed safely in his base.

It was worth a try and cost him nothing except a little time. If it didn't work out he could always kill her later.

XXXXX

February 20th, 2011.

"And this cape just left after politely knocking on the door, asking to see your mother and taking away her addiction?"

Lisa Wilbourne, more widely known as the villain Tattletale, felt that incredulity was a reasonable reaction to the news that her teammate had just delivered. That was more than a bit abnormal for cape behavior.

"That's what Aisha told me." Brian nodded with a pained and confused scowl. He was still recovering from Shadow Stalker's attempt to kill him over the Christmas holidays. "And Mom has been sober, more sober than she's been in years. I can't even count how many times she's said that she would get off the drugs, but this time I might actually believe her."

"Definitely sounds like a Master of some kind." Lisa murmured, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

For one thing, this might mean that Brian would eventually leave the Undersiders. He had only gotten into the villain game so that he would get enough money in a hurry to take custody of his sister away from their parents, both of which were unfit for one reason or another. But if Celia Laborn was suddenly not a hopeless junkie…

Coil would be pissed at losing leverage over Brian if it really turned out like that. Whether he would do anything to regain it or not was the question. Brian was a useful patsy to him, but not of any critical importance.

The bastard hadn't asked her to look into this new cape, despite the fact that she knew he was greedy for any information he could use and didn't give a shit about the Unwritten Rules. He already had her snooping on the Empire 88, yet he hadn't asked her to look into this new cape?

Which meant that he had asked, in his other timeline. The slimy bastard might think he was slick, but there were only so many clues he could drop before she figured it out and only so many ways for him to keep from leaving clues for her to follow. And it didn't help that he occasionally couldn't help showing off to satisfy his ego, dropping hints that he shouldn't have dropped. Probability manipulation my ass!

Granted, it had been a pain to connect the dots of him having knowledge that he shouldn't have and the hints of behavior that he'd done things that she knew he hadn't done, but she'd put it together it. Now it was just a matter of lining things up so that she could kill him, because that was the only way she'd ever be safe from the bastard. That was going to require suborning his mercenaries, which for obvious reasons had to be done very carefully.

"So, you know anything about this new cape and her gang?" Brian asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Lisa grinned smugly. Just because Coil hadn't asked her about the new cape didn't mean she hadn't done any snooping of her own. It always paid to stay informed. "She showed up a short while ago and took over the Merchants out from under Skidmark."

"Aisha mentioned that." Brian nodded.

"Yeah, and my power tells me that she's doing serious work on reorganizing them. She even sent the PRT a letter informing them that they were now the Black Hand, and that Squealer and Mush rebranded into Gearshift and Lodestone."

It wasn't unheard of for villains to try something like that. Despite PRT propaganda, both Accord and the Elite and dozens of other villain organizations had a sort of understanding with law enforcement. Civilians might never realize it, but any cape that was in the game long enough figured out that it was better to stick to posturing and play a game of superpowered cops and robbers instead of going all out. Every cape who played the game had their own ideas about what 'acceptable force' was, but on the whole it kept the damage down to tolerable levels.

There were good reasons why the Triumvirate didn't go crusading around the country, pulverizing villains everywhere, just as there were good reasons why villains held back. When parahumans started going all out, you got anarchy and warlord states.

Arrogant assholes like Lung, violence junkies like Hookwolf, and psychos like Oni Lee crossed the line and got themselves a Birdcage sentence. And if they crossed it a little bit further they'd get kill orders. Smart capes knew better than to make big waves.

"Sounds like trouble." Brian frowned.

"It's going to be trouble." Lisa agreed. "The Merchants were a non-entity, but Psyker and her Black Hand are going to challenge the Empire and ABB for control of the city. It could set off a gang war."

"Great, that's just what we need." He shook his head.

True, it could be the start of some bad times. But… on the other hand, it might be an opportunity as well. Coil definitely wouldn't be keeping his fingers out of it.

XXXXX

February 21st, 2011..

There was always a hint of hesitation when Coil committed both of his timelines to a course of action, as it was impossible to return to the old status quo afterwards, but he hadn't got to where he was by being a coward.

The initial contact was met with suspicion, only to abate when he promised to come alone to a location of her choosing. It really cost him nothing, since he was still safely in his base in one timeline while a body double attended the meeting, and bought him a bit of free trust.

He was told to arrive at a certain location where he was then picked up by one of the newly rebranded Gearshift's tinkertech vehicles, driven by what was clearly a minion of lesser value, and taken to the location of the actual meeting. That showed an admirable amount of paranoia that few fresh parahumans exhibited. For him, that was both good and bad.

Good, because overconfident capes would think they can take on the world alone and refuse collaboration out of hand. Bad, because it would be much harder to make Psyker trust him.

The meeting place was in an abandoned part of the Trainyard. It being the middle of the night in winter, they were reasonably guaranteed to have privacy. Somer's Rock was well known neutral ground for meetings between gang leaders, which was the very reason it was unsuitable if you wanted to be clandestine.

The only problem with it was that it was winter and his costume was rather thin.

His 'host' was already waiting for him there. Like him, she was alone, though he was quite sure that she had minions nearby. The first thing he noticed was that she was not wearing glasses anymore and that her eyes were blue. She must have switched to contact lenses, both to get rid of a liability and to further hide her identity. Smart.

Her mask had also changed. No longer just a common scarf, now it was a metal mask that covered everything below her eyes. It looked reminiscent of the front grille of a truck, no doubt the work of the rebranded Squealer, as most Tinkers could make at least some things outside of their specialty and a mask wouldn't be out of the question. He could see that her hood was attached to it somehow, preventing it from being blown off easily. It must have been a rush job in preparation for this meeting.

"Coil." She greeted. Her voice was slightly distorted by the mask, making it more difficult to identify. It probably also filtered the air she was breathing.

"Psyker." He returned. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

"You said you had a proposition for me?" She prompted.

As before, Taylor Hebert was far more composed than one would expect a fifteen-year-old girl to be, but now that they were face to face, he couldn't help but notice how much… more she felt, in comparison to contact through a video call. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the times when he spoke to her in abandoned timelines felt like he'd been talking to an impostor in comparison. Even the one speaking to his body double in the other timeline somehow felt inexplicably lesser.

The stare, which he had already thought to be unusually heavy for a teenage girl, was even worse in person. Normally, when you met people's gaze during conversation, you could see them thinking about your words. Their eyes lost focus for brief moments, or they momentarily looked away as their attention wandered. Psyker's stare never wavered, never lost focus. It made a man feel like his every word and action was being dissected, which it probably was. It wasn't quite the stare of an unhinged psychopath that was thinking of the best way to carve out your heart, but it was similarly intense and unnerving. She would be quite the intimidating cape once she was a bit more seasoned and gained a reputation.

"Indeed I do." He said politely, brushing aside his slight unease. He had faced worse. "I was able to get my hands on the letter you left for the PRT. The mere fact that you bothered to do such a thing tells me quite a bit about you. The heroes are a disappointment, aren't they?"

There was a few seconds of silence before Psyker replied. "What of it?"

"I happen to be of a similar disposition." Coil said, trying to make his voice as earnest as possible. "I realized years ago that the PRT will never be able to reign in the gangs in Brockton Bay, or anywhere else for that matter. Even if they defeated the current crop of villains…" He deliberately trailed off.

"New ones would move in." She finished the sentence for him. "So, you intend to become the city's only crime boss?"

"Crime is in many ways the mirror opposite of legal business. Where monopolies are bad in business because it allows a single corporation exploit its consumer base with impunity, it is good in crime because it prevents power struggles and random street violence." Coil explained. It even had the benefit of being true.

"You are proposing an alliance." She said, catching on immediately.

"Yes. I believe that our goals align."

"Say that we do this and succeed." Psyker said after a few seconds of thought. "What happens when we are the only two gang leaders left in Brockton Bay? Do we each keep to our own half of town?"

"By then, we might very well trust each other enough to merge our organizations." Coil shrugged with a casualness he didn't feel.

That would be ideal, but only if she agreed to subordinate herself to him. If not, then setting her up in a different city as an associate was still an option. Or, if she refused both, elimination.

"And how would this alliance of ours work?" She continued questioning.

"That would depend on what you want to do." Coil made a welcoming gesture with his hands. "My organization is small, but entrenched. I've been able to hamstring the Empire and ABB on multiple occasions and have kept from engaging the PRT as much as possible, but progress on actually ejecting them from the city has been slow. With the contacts you've inherited from the Merchants, you are much better poised to take over drug distribution and prostitution than I am, but your unpowered minions lack firepower. That, I can provide."

Providing her gang with guns was less of a boon than it might seem. They were still, at best, a bunch of civilians with little to no training, with a few PTSD-ridden veterans sprinkled in. What it would do was raise their profile and make them more of a threat, further shifting attention away from him. He had at times diverted weapons to the Merchants for just that reason, although clandestinely. Similarly, allowing the Black Hand to control the drug and prostitution markets also wouldn't cost him much. As the CEO of Fortress Construction, a premier builder of Endbringer shelters, he brought in a lot of money legally. To say nothing of the way he leveraged his ability to play the stock market, gambling, and various other white collar crimes. Indeed, having her take charge of the less publicly palatable – but omnipresent – parts of the underworld, would just make him look better in comparison.

This would be both a test of her ability and getting someone else to do his dirty work. When all was said and done, if Psyker succeeded in making something out of those ventures, he would take them over once she was a subordinate, an ally, or a corpse.

Psyker was quiet for a moment before replying. "You haven't said anything about what you want in return."

"The old world order is collapsing under the strain of parahuman violence and constant Endbringer attacks, Psyker." Coil said. "It is only because of the looming threat of the Triumvirate that it hasn't all gone the way of Africa already, but they've long since reached the limits of what they can do. The narrative of heroes against villains was nothing more than an attempt to integrate us into society, but the lines get more blurry every year."

Thomas Calvert had been fourteen years old when Scion had appeared. To him, the superhero comic book parody that life had become was more than a little ridiculous and he could easily see the social manipulation behind it. By creating a heroes versus villains narrative, certain rules were implicitly imposed. Coil himself exploited this to a considerable degree by playing up the villain angle. Were it not for that, he wouldn't have bothered with a villain persona at all, but ironically, being a little visible was better camouflage than being a complete ghost. People didn't look any further once they thought they had it all figured out, after all.

His words were also carefully chosen to resonate with Taylor Hebert, who had been abused and made to trigger by a so-called hero.

"Did you know that the PRT has abandoned the idea of getting rid of the gangs?" He asked rhetorically. "They don't admit it to the general public, but pretty much every city has backroom agreements with villain gangs. They effectively choose one or two of the least bad gangs and subtly support them against their rivals. Almost every city… except Brockton Bay."

"Because we don't have any 'least bad' gangs." Psyker's brow turned into a scowl. "They're all horrible."

"Quite." Coil agreed. It was only partially true – the other part was that Emily Piggot was a stubborn sow that hated making compromises, especially compromises with parahumans, and Armsmaster was a gloryhound. Good thing that they wouldn't be a factor for much longer. "We could become the reasonable option for Brockton Bay, like Accord is in Boston and the Elite are on the West Coast. You ask me what I want from our alliance? I want you to work with me to get this city under control."

She stared back at him for a long moment, a look far too piercing for a fifteen-year-old to have, then she nodded. "Alright, I can agree to that."

"I'm afraid I'll have to refuse for now." Psyker said in the other timeline, her voice neutral.

Coil was almost late in responding from the surprise. What? The conversation had been identical this whole time. Slightly slower because he had to relay his words to his body double, but identical. What had she picked up on in the other timeline that put her off?

"Excellent. I trust you have a burner phone that I can use to contact you?" He said, recovering. Most likely, it was simply his body double's lack of charisma. Similar things had happened before, although the divergence had been more obvious in buildup, but that was probably her Thinker power making her hard to read.

No matter, that was why he had two timelines after all, so that he could always get it right.

XXXXX

"So, what did Coil want?" Sherrel asked as she drove back to their lair.

"An alliance, or at least a non-aggression pact." Taylor answered. "He was offering to supply us with guns and information as long as we work with him to push out the Empire and ABB. I accepted."

"Well, you're the boss." The Tinker shrugged.

Taylor smiled, and continued making small talk with the blonde, but her true focus was still on the meeting.

Coil. Your mind reeks of treachery. Looking at him had felt like looking at a two-headed snake that was trying to wrap itself around her from both directions. His mind had a strange duality to it as well, as if he was thinking of two things at once. It almost certainly had to do with his power, whatever it was.

He had also been suspiciously certain of her motives. Taylor knew that her letter of intent to the PRT had revealed some things, but Coil had been entirely too self-assured even if he'd gotten his hands on it. She knew that he styled himself as a mastermind that had all the information at his fingertips, but that meant that he must have ways of getting it.

Taylor had accepted his offer because she knew that he would become an enemy if she refused. Coil's mind wasn't as twisted and rabid in the same way as Sophia's had been, but it had the same taste of sadism and contempt for everyone around him. He was a more patient sort of monster, but a monster all the same and no amount of pretty speeches would change that.

Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer, was it? I think I'll do just that.

At the moment, he had no idea what she could do and she had no idea what he could do, but the balance of power was firmly in his favor. She'd play along and draw what strength she could from him before crushing him.

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