The Kaiser's New Clothes - Chapter 3 - DannyJ - Parahumans Series (2024)

Chapter Text

There was a minor quirk to Coil's power which he had never quite understood the meaning or purpose of, which he observed in action with his usual bemused indifference as he split the timelines again. In one timeline, his clothes and his skin appeared to turn bright glowing white to his own eyes, somewhat akin to Purity's glow, while in the other both became pitch black, much like the all-consuming darkness of Grue's power.

He had experimented with the phenomenon thoroughly back when he first gained his powers. None but himself were able to perceive the effects; to any outside observer, he still appeared as the same ordinary, everyday, unremarkable Thomas Calvert. The contrasting light and darkness seemed to exist solely within his own mind, and only for his benefit, but it was an oddly useless aspect of his power; it didn't seem to mean or indicate anything, and it had no correlation with which timeline was better for him, or which he would ultimately end up using.

As far as he and the testers from Cauldron could tell, its literal only purpose was to help him easily differentiate between two similar timelines. Except it didn't even do that, because he was always intuitively aware of which timeline was which anyway. His power came with an additional multi-tasking thinker ability to help him keep track of which events happened in which timeline and focus on both at once – an essential skill for any man literally living two lives simultaneously. But it did make the light and darkness indicators highly redundant.

Still, if there was one thing they were good for, it was giving him easy terms of reference for his two different selves. For example, in one timeline, the self he called Light Coil took a deep, calming breath, closed the lid of the dumpster, and retreated back into his house to consider what to do about this, while in the other timeline, Dark Coil flipped open his cellphone and called a number. The recipient picked up almost immediately.

"Morning, boss," said the girl's voice at the other end.

"Tattletale, would you kindly explain to me what the hell is going on?"

"Ummm... Gonna need to be way more specific there."

He could tell the sudden aggression caught her off-guard. It wasn't how he usually talked to her. But it hardly mattered. Thomas had already decided that Dark Coil's conversation with his Tattletale would be a throwaway timeline. He would use her power as needed to figure things out, and then leave her ignorant while Light Coil acted on her information in the prime timeline. It wouldn't do to give her any unnecessary insight into his problems when he was at least eighty percent sure she would try to use it against him.

"Kaiser. Somebody dumped his corpse in my trash. Outside my home."

"Oh... sh*t."

In his prime timeline, Light Coil sat down at the kitchen table to finish his coffee, while in the other timeline, Dark Coil tapped his slippered foot impatiently.

"What can you tell me about this?" he asked.

"Well... you're aware of what happened in the hospital, right?"

"Do you refer to the rumours of Kaiser being violently murdered in the bathroom? Or to Skitter's second trigger?"

He could feel her hesitation at that. Good. He liked her afraid. There would be consequences for her deception, even if it wasn't necessarily this version of her that would suffer them.

"The former," his Tattletale eventually answered. "Last time anyone saw Kaiser, he was still alive, if just barely. He was suffering severe brain damage after Leviathan. Panacea doesn't do brains, and Othala was killed, so safe to assume it was permanent. Kaiser was last seen being led to the bathroom by Purity... Kayden and Max Anders had a rocky relationship. She cared about him to a degree, enough to be upset seeing him like that, but she also resented him, both for screwing her over in the past, and for being a burden to her now...

"Power's best guess... Purity put Kaiser out of his misery so she wouldn't have to look after a cripple for the rest of her life, and left the body in your dumpster to send a message. Payback for exposing the Empire's identities, maybe?"

Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"So the Empire Eighty-Eight are aware that Thomas Calvert is Coil?"

Another moment of hesitation on Tattletale's end.

"...Looks like it."

"...Damn it."

Thomas dropped that timeline with a vengeance, his two separate selves snapping back together. In the kitchen, Light Coil's glow disappeared, giving way to his natural skin tone again for only a second, before he immediately split the timeline again.

This time, Dark Coil continued to quietly ponder over his coffee, while Light Coil rummaged through the cupboards until he found a bottle of expensive vodka, and started chugging.

Max Anders yawned and stretched, rubbing the crust from his eyes as he sat up in the dim light coming through the curtains. He looked around at the semi-familiar setting, and quickly recognised it as Kayden's partially ransacked apartment. He was sleeping on her couch, bundled up in thin bedsheets and wearing only a tank top and a set of boxers.

A noise came from the kitchen behind him. Max turned around to look, and found his son Theo already up, dressed, and holding his baby sister Aster, who slept soundly in his arms as he gently rocked her back and forth.

"Theo," Max said with a nod.

"Sir," Theo returned, perfectly neutral.

Max sighed and stood up.

"Where's Kayden?"

"Supply run. Trying to find a place that still has baby formula."

"Hmm."

He didn't have much to say to that, so Max looked around at Kayden's apartment instead. Despite all the recent chaos in the city, from Coil's gross overstepping of cape rules, to Kayden's downtown rampage, to Leviathan turning Brockton Bay into America's newest waterpark, his ex-wife's home was surprisingly unchanged. Just a normal apartment, where she was living as she always had, apparently no longer afraid of the authorities coming for Aster a second time. Personally, Max would've preferred to return to the secret bunker last night (assuming that it wasn't now flooded, at least), but for whatever reason, Kayden had brought them all back here to reclaim the home she'd been forced to flee instead.

He didn't approve of the idea. True, the authorities probably had bigger things to worry about than going after the Empire again right now, and participating in the Endbringer response had probably earned them all at least a little extra leeway, but there was still always that possibility that Coil's men or the Merchants or some ABB remnants might decide to pay them a home visit. Even in Brockton Bay, it was dangerous being an open neo-Nazi at times, and while Max and Kayden had known what they were signing up for when they got into this life, he didn't want his children being victimised by the local gangs just for who their parents were. They couldn't help how they were born.

Something about that thought gave Max pause.

"...Huh."

"Something wrong, sir?" asked Theo with a dull expression.

"...No, I'm fine. Thank you."

Shaking it off, Max stood up and headed for the bathroom.

After a quick shower and towelling off, he stood before the mirror, staring at his reflection, as memories flashed through his head of a blade pushing out of a similar mirror, straight towards his face. Echoes of Nessa and Jessica's final screams accompanied it, and flashes of a green-eyed monster barrelling towards him, all combining into an incoherent nightmare soup.

At least it was better than his usual recurring nightmares. It had been over a decade since Max finished higher education, and he still often woke up in cold sweats and screaming some nights after another dream of Brockton U, repeating to himself over and over again that Professor Hebert had been dead for years, that he'd seen her grave, and that she couldn't hurt him anymore. Some nights, he even believed it.

Max closed his eyes and shook his head, banishing the ghosts and memories. When he met his reflection's gaze again, he rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the line of stubble. He looked like a mess. He felt like a mess. Normally this was something he would've felt the need to correct. As Max Anders, the respected CEO of Medhall, he had to be presentable. But as Max Anders, publicly detested neo-Nazi gang leader, the pretense of civility just seemed dishonest somehow. He had never cared much about honesty before, but really, what was the point of lying anymore? He had no more secrets left to guard.

So he left the beard, looked for something to wear in the neatly folded pile of clothes Kayden had left near the closet (presumably the ones she'd brought back from his penthouse last night), and started getting dressed. He considered his usual white suit and tie near the bottom of the pile, but for the same reasons, decided against it in favour of a simple grey t-shirt and jeans that felt just slightly too loose on him.

When he returned to the living room, Aster was in her crib, and the smell of bacon wafted through the air from the kitchen. Max moved the bundle of blankets aside and sat back down on the couch, laying back and staring at the ceiling as he took a deep breath.

To keep himself occupied, he did some more work on his leg, trying to fix his remaining injuries from last night's indiscretions. Again the power came quicker than usual, and in short order, his leg was at last fully healed.

Yet, once he was certain that the last of the damage had been repaired, he couldn't help the nagging feeling that there was more he could do. Compared to some of his past injuries, fixing his leg had been comparatively easy. He'd even gotten the bone right on the first attempt this time. Could he do better than just fix it? Could it be possible to make enhancements? He'd never seriously tried before with his power's limitations, but...

Before he could experiment much further, Theo started serving up breakfast. Max stood and went to join him at the kitchen island, taking a seat opposite him.

"Would you like anything, sir?" Theo asked.

"OJ. Please."

Theo brought him a glass shortly afterwards, which Max took with a grateful nod. As they started eating in silence, Max looked around the room some more, trying to think of something to say.

"So... are you... doing alright?" he asked, taking an awkward bite of his toast.

"Yes sir," Theo said after swallowing, not looking up from his plate.

Max frowned.

"Look me in the eyes when you talk to me, boy."

Theo flinched, and reluctantly met his gaze. Those eyes, so much like Heith's, looked at him with a mixture of wariness and resentment.

Normally that would never bother him. As both Kaiser and as Theo's father, he was used to being hated, used to laying down the law while knowing that his efforts would ultimately go unappreciated. But today, that look stirred an uncomfortable emptiness in his chest. It was a look devoid of any of the love or affection Heith's eyes had held. It had more in common with the looks Kayden often gave him these days. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it until now.

It struck Max then that he could've died yesterday, and that he doubted his own son would have felt any sadder for it if he had. He might have even been happier for it. Happy to finally escape his monstrous father, just like Max had been happy when Allfather had slipped on that banana peel, fallen into that shopping cart, and gone careening down that hill, only to be hit by that school bus, and launched directly into that industrial wood-chipper. Which had then caused him to be taken away in that ambulance, which then crashed into that ditch, caught on fire, and exploded. And then the Butcher had found him alive in the burning wreckage and shot him two hundred and twelve times with a minigun.

The realisation chilled him. Max didn't want to be that person to anyone else. He wanted to be missed when he was gone. But right now, he knew he wouldn't be. Right now, he knew that Kayden, and Theo, and Aster, and everyone else he valued would all gladly leave him again tomorrow if they could. He didn't think he could take anyone else leaving him right now, but what else could he expect, when he'd done nothing to earn their loyalty?

The words echoed through his head, unbidden.

...What a f*cking waste.

Steeling himself, Max let out a breath.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I'm trying to..."

He searched for the words, all the while Theo stared at him with one raised eyebrow.

"...I'm a bad father," Max finally said. "I want to... do better. If I can."

Theo's eyes darted back and forth, as if looking for a hidden camera.

"Are you... feeling alright, sir?"

Max frowned again.

"No." He shook his head. "No, Theo, I am not. An Endbringer cut my head open last night, and I lost half my brain and then grew it back. I'm not even completely certain I'm the same person as the Max Anders that you knew. But I've decided I don't like that person anyway, so I'm making a fresh start, right now."

Theo stared a second longer, and then shrugged.

"If you say so, sir," he said, eating a piece of sausage.

Max sighed.

"You don't have to call me 'sir' anymore, Theo. You're your own man now. I'm not going to demand obedience from you anymore."

Theo looked at him like he'd just said he didn't believe in the moon.

"What?" asked Max.

"Nothing."

"Look, you can talk to me," Max said with a grumbling sigh. "I'm not going to punish you for having an opinion or talking back or whatever. We're done with that."

Theo looked at him with hard eyes, almost challenging.

"Are you... sure about that, sir?"

Max rolled his eyes. "Yes, and please don't call me 'sir.'"

Setting down his knife and fork, Theo looked his father in the eyes intensely.

"You've held me to this standard my whole life. You've always expected me to do as I was told, punished me for speaking up or disobeying, never allowed me to do anything without your approval first, and you always told me it was my fault, made me feel like I was wrong for wanting different. You're saying you aren't going to do that anymore?"

Max quashed the reflexive flare of indignance at being questioned like this, and instead took another deep breath.

"Yes."

"Then I have a question. If you realise that was wrong now, then why did you do it before?"

Max forced himself to seriously consider it. The answer again took his mind back to unhappy places, and he couldn't help but let some of that melancholy show on his face.

Honesty. That was what he'd decided. No more pride, no more pretense. If he wanted to be a different man, he would start by giving his son a straight answer.

"Because I don't know how else to do it." Max admitted with a begrudging sigh. "Command respect, command authority, expect only the best from others, and punish failure. That's how I lead the Empire, because that's what works, and I thought raising a family would work the same way. As a husband and a father, I only had the one example to learn from, and he... was not the best. I didn't want to follow his example, wanted to take a lighter touch, so I tried it this way instead. My way. That's why I never beat you. That's why I never raised a hand to Kayden or your mother. I thought that my way was better than the way I was raised. But I'm beginning to see now that maybe I'm not as different from him as I thought."

Theo stared at him, expression unchanging.

"...I'm saying your grandfather was an asshole, alright?" Max clarified.

"Yeah, I got that," said Theo, holding up a hand. "That's not an excuse for everything you put us through."

Max shrugged. "Okay. You're right. It isn't. I'm sorry, and I'll try to do better from now on."

"Just like that?" asked Theo.

"Just like that."

After a long stretch of mutual silence, Kaiser crossed his arms and leaned over the kitchen island.

"Anything else you want to get off your chest, while we have the chance?"

Theo stared down at his plate, considering, before looking up at him again with an uncertain hesitance.

"Umm... yes. I think white supremacy is bad? I disagree with it. And I think you should stop promoting it."

Max sat up straight, curious at this new development. His arms remained folded.

"Hm. Very well. What would you have me do instead?"

"Leave the Empire, sir," Theo said with a surprising conviction. "Stop encouraging your followers to make other people's lives worse. Take responsibility for what you've done, and try to be better."

"Mmm..." Max rubbed his chin. "Hmmm... mmm... No."

Theo's expression soured.

"Okay, sir," he said, sullenly spearing another piece of sausage on his fork.

"Don't be like that." Max glowered. "It just isn't that simple. I'm not some footsoldier who can simply walk away without consequence. I'm the leader of the Empire Eighty-Eight; my actions affect everything we do. Reducing harm and taking responsibility means staying with the Empire and steering it better, not running away. Or would you rather I leave Krieg or Hookwolf in charge?"

Theo winced.

"I'm sorry, I didn't..." He blinked. "Wait... are you saying you're actually going to try to rein the Empire in?"

Max returned to his breakfast as well.

"Believe it or not, Theo," he said through a mouthful of bacon, "I don't actually believe in this white power sh*t anymore than you do. I only do this crap because you don't get far in a white supremacist clan without sieg heiling. That's why I always taught you about the importance of obeying and paying lipservice, rather than the importance of preserving the white race or the nobility of the cause, or whatever other horsesh*t I was feeding the true believers that week."

Theo's mouth hung open.

"You... you asshole!" He slammed his fists on the counter. "You mean you've been ruining people's lives with this sh*t for years, and all this time you didn't even believe in it?"

Despite the boy's insolence and impropriety, Max suppressed the urge to reprimand him, instead reminding himself that it was not an unwarranted reaction, and that he wanted his son to be his own man now, even if that man would grow up to disagree with him.

"Yep," Max said instead, glowering. "You're welcome, by the way."

"For what?!"

"For not indoctrinating you from childhood. You like being a 'free thinker,' playing along for all these years, while secretly disavowing your father's ideology? Good. Me too. I taught you that."

Theo spluttered some incoherent words of disbelief and outrage, but Max continued, rolling over his son's protests without pause.

"I taught you that because I didn't want my son to grow up to be a crazed fanatic like the rest of his family. I loved your Aunt Minnie, God rest her, but she was a f*cking lunatic. You couldn't even go out to the movies with her, because she'd be screaming racial slurs at the concessions stand if the guy's hand touched any of her popcorn. Every goddamn day with her was 'chinks' this, and 'nigg*rs' that, and Jews, Jews, Jews, JEWS!"

Max put down his fork with an exaggerated sigh.

"I mean, I know I run a white supremacist clan, so I don't have room to talk, but it's f*cking exhausting, Theo. Don't be like these people. Do your own research. Develop interests outside of race theory. Go outside. Read a book. Eat Chinese food. Criticise the side you vote for. Learn to play an instrument. Sell meth to the cops. Marry a cute Mexican girl and give me fourteen brown grandkids. Don't be a f*cking sheep."

If Theo's jaw dropped any lower, it would've been on the floor.

"So... so what?" he spat out angrily. "You just do it all for... for what? For money? For power?"

Max laughed out loud. "No, son, I do it to get laid."

"I..." Theo recoiled. "What?"

Honesty.

"Listen, I don't expect you to understand this, but the girls in the Empire back when I first started out were some of the most eminently bangable women you've ever seen. Especially your mom."

"Uhhhhhhh..." Theo leaned away slightly.

"I mean it. Heith was gorgeous. Face like a vision, voice of an angel, and the fattest ass you've ever seen on a white girl, while still somehow being well-proportioned. Absolutely perfect."

He made an illustrative shape in the air with his hands, and Theo began to worriedly look towards the exit.

"Not to mention her head game was crazy."

"Okay, I really don't want to hear this—" Theo said, holding up his hands.

"I mean, your mom could suck a basketball through the eye of a needle," Max continued, oblivious to Theo's growing look of horror. "A human mouth shouldn't be able to do the things that woman did to me. If NASA were still around, they'd have been studying her to make more powerful airtight seals for spacecraft. I'm half convinced it was a secondary parahuman ability."

"Alright, I get it!"

"Most importantly, she had a size-changing power, like your cousins." Max dropped his hands to the table, shaking his head. "Jesus, Theo, do you know what it's like getting taken by a woman twice your size? Your mom could crush a motorcycle between her thighs. She could overpower a man and pin him to the ground with a single finger. She could literally fit my entire body between her breasts. It was insane, Theo. Like a macro fetish hentai in real life. I didn't have sex; I went cave exploring."

"f*cking hell, please stop!" Theo groaned, burying his head in his hands.

"Oh." Max winced, backing up. "Sorry. I guess that was a little too much detail. Still not used to this... parenting... thing. My point was, it's not about the money or power for me, any more than it's about ideology. Those are just bonuses. It's about finding personal happiness. And when your idea of personal happiness happens to be big ladies who are willing to peg you—"

"LALALA, I'M NOT LISTENING!" Theo screamed, covering his ears. "LALALALALA!"

Max snorted.

"There's no need to be immature."

He went to pick up his fork again, but stopped as a rumbling came from his his side, accompanied by the tinny sounds of an Aleph song ringtone. The lyrics became clearer as Max fished it out of his pocket, causing Theo to stop his chanting and stare.

"You claim to be a playa, but I f*cked your wife! We bust on Bad Boys, nigg*s f*cked for life!"

Max casually flipped open his supervillain cellphone, and tried not to sigh.

LITERALLY HITLER, read the caller ID, accompanied by a smiling black and white photo of the Austrian dictator himself, with the button to answer the video call plastered directly on his forehead like a bullseye.

"Sorry, son. Gotta take this." Max stood from his seat, pointing at the phone while the sounds of Tupac continued to play. "Thanks for breakfast."

With no further explanation, he turned and headed for balcony, leaving Theo staring after him with a look of lost bewilderment.

"...WHAT?"

"Alright. Cya in five."

Lisa put the phone down and sighed, leaning back against the wall of her apartment. Over on the couch, Taylor continued to stare down at her tea, which she cradled in both hands while hugging a purple couch cushion to her stomach. The lights flickered overhead, barely maintained by the building's backup generators.

"Are they still mad?" Taylor murmured.

Lisa shrugged.

"Brian, not so much, now that he's had a night to cool off. I don't think Alec felt that strongly about it in the first place, so he'll hear you out. Rachel is still mad, though."

Taylor's expression didn't outwardly change, but Lisa could sense her disappointment.

"That's fair," Taylor said quietly. "She put her dogs at risk for me. I made her trust me. Then I betrayed that trust."

"Yes, you did." Lisa nodded. "But you can still earn it back. Rachel is mad, but she doesn't completely hate you. If any of her dogs had been killed, that would be a different story. I don't think she'd ever forgive you then. But no harm, no foul. She'll come around. Eventually."

Taylor sat up straight. "You really think so?"

The hopeful note in her voice made Lisa smile.

"Power says so. I didn't think it was possible before, but you were really getting through to her for a while there. She enjoys your company. I don't think she would want to lose it. It's just a matter of convincing her that you weren't faking that part. She doesn't like being played, but the key is, she doesn't want to believe you were playing her."

"I wasn't," Taylor said, quietly turning back to her tea. "I might've started out just looking for info, but I really did like spending time with you all. I wouldn't have done all that if I... "

Taylor Hebert feeling immense guilt. Offloading emotional reactions to bugs.

"Hey, hey, I know." Lisa sat down on the couch next to her, smiling gently. "I wouldn't have played along as long as I did if I doubted you that much. I could see how you felt, and I know it was real. And we'll convince the others as well. Even Rachel."

She held out an arm, and Taylor returned the smile as she leaned over, accepting the hug.

"You do realise she'll probably beat the sh*t out of you first, though, right?"

Taylor's smile immediately soured.

"Yeah..." she muttered. "Not looking forward to that."

It was several more minutes after that before Taylor sat up, evidently sensing the Undersiders arriving at the edge of her range. She finished and set aside her tea, and stood with Lisa as the others entered the building.

They more pounded at the door than knocked, and Lisa quickly ran to let them in before Rachel tried to kick it down. As soon as she did, the other girl roughly shoved past her and made a beeline straight for Taylor, her dogs pushing past Brian and Alec to follow her inside.

Brutus and Judas stayed back as Rachel grabbed Taylor by the lapel and shoved her down into the couch. The taller girl's eyes widened as she landed on her back, and Rachel loomed over her, noses almost touching as she growled and bared her teeth. Taylor squirmed under her gaze, but seemed unable to immediately break away.

Lisa was torn between intervening and letting the confrontation play out, until Alec sauntered paster her into the room, raising an eyebrow at the display.

"Gotta tell you girls, this is probably the gayest thing I've ever seen," he said. "And I've been to pride marches in Canada."

Rachel's head snapped around to snarl at him. He smirked, but raised his hands in surrender and backed off. Lisa shot him a subtle smile, thankful for him so expertly breaking the tension.

"Rachel, get off of her," Brian sighed. "Let's not have a repeat of last time."

Reluctantly, Rachel let go and backed off, now red in the face, though it was hard to tell whether it was from rage or embarassment.

Likely both, Lisa's power supplied.

"So," Brian said coldly, crossing his arms. "Lisa thinks you're still trustworthy, despite planning to betray us. I've heard it from her. But I want to hear it from you. Why should we believe this? You fooled us once already. How do we know you aren't fooling us this time?"

"For the record, she never fooled me," Lisa interrupted, looking mainly to Rachel and Alec. "I played along and didn't say anything because I knew I could make Taylor change her mind."

Brian silently glared at her, before turning back to Taylor as she sat up.

"Well?"

Taylor crossed her legs and folded her arms, going rigidly still.

"I'm sorry," she said, keeping a clear, firm tone. "When I met you all, I was trying to be a hero. I just wanted to help people. When you guys mistook me for a villain and invited me to join, I didn't know you, so I wasn't thinking about you when I made my plan. I wasn't thinking about who I would be hurting. I just wanted to learn what I could, and use it to do some good and impress the heroes. And I still want to do good. I still want to help people. But I didn't realise before how much it meant to me, having friends again."

Rachel snorted dismissively, but didn't interrupt.

"...I was planning to betray you," Taylor looked to each of them in turn, her eyes settling longest on Rachel. "At first. It was f*cked up of me. I nearly did to all of you what Emma did to me. But I changed my mind. When I really got to know all of you, I realised I couldn't go through with it. Lisa was right. She saw through me from the start. I liked being an Undersider. I liked being your friend. And I want to go back to that, if you'll all have me."

"f*ck off," said Rachel.

"You walked away from us over the Dinah thing," said Brian, his expression unchanging. "That was just after you got the information you joined for. If it weren't for Leviathan, are you saying you wouldn't have handed that info over to the heroes?"

Taylor shook her head.

"No. I'd already decided by then that I wasn't going to do it." Her statement made Rachel huff, but she continued. "I respect you guys. I don't respect the heroes. I've seen what they are now, and I can probably do more good as a villain than I ever could've as one of them. But what Coil's doing to that little girl makes my stomach turn. I didn't want to be a part of that, and it hurt me that you guys did. And I didn't know how to deal with that at the time, or how I could help her, so I left."

"Come on, it's not like any of us were just fine with it," Brian said exasperatedly. "It's a sh*tty situation, and I don't like it anymore than you do. I just..."

Taylor swallowed and nodded.

"I know. You have other priorities. You're in this for you and yours."

"That's not—"

"I get it," said Taylor. "I don't like it, but I get it. I was hurt because I expected more from you guys, but I wasn't thinking about it from your point of view, and leaving was just my gut reaction. But even after that, you guys still came to save me. Rachel, you saved my life. You and your dogs. The rest of you, you stood up to Legend for me. That means something. I owe you guys big. If you give me the chance, I promise I'll make it up to you, and I'll never f*ck up like this again."

Lisa gave an encouraging smile. Rachel only glowered in response, but Brian and Alec looked to each other, and then back to Taylor.

"And what about Dinah?" asked Alec.

Taylor took a moment.

"I still want to save Dinah somehow, if I can. But I can do it by working with Coil, as an Undersider, if that's what it takes. I can work out a deal with him. Lisa's already said she'll help."

All eyes turned to Lisa, who only smiled and shrugged.

"Coil's got wants and needs like anyone else," she said. "Dinah's valuable to him, but there's gotta be something he'll give her up for. We'll work out an angle."

"Hopefully an angle that won't f*ck up our working relationship?" asked Alec, raising a hand. "Don't get me wrong, Tay, I'm not the grudge-holding type, and it'd be nice to have you back, but if you piss off our boss and ruin this gig for the rest of us, I might be a bit miffed."

"I can be diplomatic," said Taylor, expression neutral.

Alec was silent for a few seconds, before shrugging.

"Okay. Good enough for me."

Rachel growled and turned away, stomping off to another room. Brutus and Judas fidgeted, but stayed sitting where they were.

"...Fine," Brian said reluctantly. "But consider this your probation. I'm not saying I trust you again. I'm just giving you a chance to earn it back. You're still on thin ice as far as I'm concerned."

"...That's fair," Taylor said evenly.

"And you too, Lisa," Brian continued, turning to her. "I'm still not happy you hid this from us. No more f*cking secrets, got it? I don't care what the boss says. If it's something that affects the rest of the team, we need to know."

Lisa wilted, but nodded. At least he wasn't throwing her against a wall and choking her out like when Rachel pissed him off.

"Got it, boss man," she said trying to inject some levity back into the conversation.

"Also, if you're vouching for Taylor, it's your ass if anything goes wrong, and that includes this Dinah thing."

"We'll be careful." Lisa smiled, putting a hand on Taylor's shoulder. "Believe me, none of us want to piss off Coil without good reason. He's a dangerous man, and his operation is a well-oiled machine."

"Yes, I'm serious. It's a corpse in my dumpster. Specifically Kaiser's— Look, why the hell would I joke about that?"

In the timeline where he was being a semi-functional human being for a day, an extremely tired but caffeinated Dark Coil growled into the phone, as he got caught behind traffic again for the fifteenth time this morning. The roads were a mess after Leviathan's rampage, and getting from Captain's Hill to the PRT HQ was a nightmare at the moment. He took out his frustration by beeping the horn while yelling at his mercenary underling.

"And just who do you think you are questioning my orders anyway? What do you think I'm paying you for? Get over there and clear it out! I should not have to say this twice."

He hung up with an angry tap of the button, and continued mashing the horn, while over in the timeline where he was half-dead from alcohol poisoning, Light Coil groaned on his couch and threw an empty glass bottle at a random wall.

He almost regretted sleeping there last night. Almost, because if he hadn't, he wouldn't have discovered the Empire's little message this morning, and who knows where that would've left him? But he couldn't help but think that he probably would've had a shorter commute today if he were coming from his other house in the city. The house on Captain's Hill was nicer (especially after Leviathan), but the townhouse was closer to work.

Come to think of it, he wondered if the Empire knew he had two addresses, since of course he actually had three identities to maintain – the supervillain known as Coil, Thomas Calvert the PRT consultant, and Curtis Talbert, CEO of the well known Brockton Bay based construction company, Castle Making. If the Empire had made him in one identity, it was probably safe to assume that they knew the other as well, but he'd need to dedicate a timeline to making sure first.

Well, he could worry about that later.

After many hours of crawling through the traffic, Dark Coil eventually reached PRT headquarters. He parked up in his usual spot, and stepped out in the innocent guise of Thomas Calvert, making his way towards the building.

Various other people and vehicles swarmed outside, while a line of faceless PRT agents kept a perimeter. Most of the people were scared and desperate refugees, likely newly homeless after Leviathan's attacks and begging for help, while some of the more official-looking ones in suits or uniforms were there representing other three-letter agencies. With so much of the city damaged (including the Protectorate's offshore base), the PRT headquarters had become the de facto nerve centre of both the relief efforts and the Protectorate overnight.

Thomas passed through the usual security checks on his way inside, flashing his badge and rattling off code phrases from memory, while all around busy people rushed about. A defeated-looking Clockblocker from the Wards was talking to some important-looking suits in the lobby, apparently unsupervised, which Thomas didn't entirely approve of, but he had far too much on his plate at the moment to care about PR.

Heading up to the office levels, the first thing he did was go to the break room. Though he'd already had his morning coffee, he already felt like he needed another one, especially with the day he had ahead of him. A junior clerk was luckily just finishing making a cup for herself as he walked in, so he snatched it out of her hand and drank it in front of her, maintaining eye contact with the trembling woman entire time to establish dominance.

In the other timeline, Light Coil leaned over the edge of the couch and puked over the carpet, before reaching for another bottle of vodka.

The important business done, Dark Coil headed to Piggot's office to begin the real work of the day. Her overworked secretary manned the desk outside, bags under her eyes and hair frizzy as she shifted through a mountain of paperwork.

"Morning, Jill," he grunted as he walked past her.

"Morning, Tom," she muttered back without looking at him.

Inside the office, Emily Piggot sat behind her markedly much cleaner desk, while Miss Militia and Legend stood before her.

"Thomas," Piggot said with a faint smile. "You look almost as bad as I feel."

"Same to you, Emily," said Thomas, also nodding towards the two heroes. "Miss Militia. Legend."

They politely returned his greetings.

"You're late today." Piggot grabbed a folder and tossed it across the desk. "I don't blame you under the circ*mstances, but there's a few things to catch you up on."

"How bad?" he said, picking it up and flicking through.

"Things could be worse," said Miss Militia, twirling a combat knife in her hand. "But they could be a hell of a lot better."

"Miss Militia will be taking over leadership of the Protectorate East-North-East for the time being, following Armsmaster's... indiscretion," Piggot said with clear distaste.

Outwardly, Thomas solemnly nodded. Inwardly, he couldn't help but grin. It was a shame to lose a potential asset like Armsmaster, whose vanity and ego he had hoped to exploit to get him on side, but this was still his gain. Armsmaster's f*ck-up was an unexpected but welcome blemish on the Protectorate ENE's reputation, and by extension Piggot's record as director of the Brockton Bay PRT. Either way, he won.

"Dragon expects to have Protectorate Headquarters' systems back online within the day," Miss Militia said to both of them. "When she does, the plan is to move Colin's confinement to there, to keep him under heavier guard, and announce his retirement."

Thomas nodded. "Good. One less loose cannon. What about the witnesses at the hospital?"

"Keeping quiet, for now," Legend said with a grave look, arms folded. "The heroes are all cooperating, for the sake of the truce. The villains..."

"The Undersiders are an unknown." Emily shifted in her seat. "Especially given Skitter's uncertain status. Armsmaster's actions may well have alienated her permanently, and second triggers are also notoriously unpredictable. We should be ready for reprisals."

"Are we not worried about Skitter's breach of Shadow Stalker's civilian ID at all?" asked Miss Militia.

"It's worth keeping an eye on, but I wouldn't be overly concerned," Thomas drawled, idly scanning through Piggot's folder. "From last night's reports, it sounds to me like a genuine accident on Skitter's part, and I trust Legend's judgement."

Legend nodded his way. "I doubt that the Undersiders would act on the information, given the circ*mstances, and how we usually treat such breaches."

"It still couldn't hurt to keep a protective detail on Shadow Stalker and her family for now," said Miss Militia. "I would rather not trust an outed Ward's safety to the goodwill of villains."

"Shadow Stalker has a known grudge against their leader, Grue, and has pursued him with extreme prejudice in the past," said Piggot. "If he's even half as vindictive as she is, then extra precautions are only prudent. We can spare a few troopers to watch her."

Legend paused to consider.

"That seems prudent, yes," he agreed.

Miss Militia cleared her throat. "Back to the hospital incident, I am also concerned about the Empire Eighty-Eight's response."

Legend nodded again, and met Thomas's eyes.

"We know that both Krieg and Purity were nearby the time. It remains unknown if either of them actually learned of Armsmaster's betrayal, but safe to say, we can't assume that this information hasn't already reached them."

"So we should be prepared for reprisals from the Empire as well," Piggot sighed, rubbing her temples. "Armsmaster really f*cked the dog on this one."

"Speaking of the Empire..." said Thomas, looking to each of the others in turn. "Do we have any idea what the hell happened to Kaiser yet?"

"Unfortunately not," Legend sighed.

"This kind of thing would usually be Armsmaster's job." Miss Militia's eyes were downcast. "And Brockton Bay Police are too busy peacekeeping to spare resources for a forensic investigation right now. Battery was at least able to follow the blood trail from the hospital, but it apparently went cold somewhere in Captain's Hill."

Thomas frowned at that. It was a lucky break for him, and he wasn't usually one to question good fortune, but he wasn't sure how that had happened. The trail leading to his home was fairly obvious if one was looking for it, or at least it had seemed so to him this morning.

Meanwhile, his phone was ringing in the other timeline.

Drunkenly grumbling, Light Coil felt around behind his head, and pulled his phone out of the pocket of the crumpled jacket hanging off the couch behind him.

"Yeah?"

"Thomas, where are you?" asked the other timeline's Emily Piggot.

"At home," he said with a sarcastic huff.

"What are you doing at home? Are you okay? You sound... off."

"I'm drunk," he slurred.

"Dru— Thomas, I need you here! Sober up and get down to PRT HQ right away!"

"I am taking a personal day," the drunk Thomas said indignantly.

"Personal days have to be called in and approved by your superior, Thomas. You know this. And in any case, I'm not signing off on it. You know the situation. I can't spare you right now."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not coming in today, Emily, you fat f*cking cow, and that's final. f*ck off and leave me alone."

At her indignant squawk, he hung up, and dropped the phone in the pile of vomit beside him.

God, he loved his powers.

The door clicked behind him as Max stepped out onto Kayden's balcony, looking over the sodden grey ruins that were once Brockton Bay. Any other time, he might have stopped to reflect on the sight and lament all that they had lost. But right now, he was getting a video call from Hitler, so instead he took a deep breath, put on a smile, and held up the phone to eye level as he answered.

"Hiya, Adolf," he said with forced joviality. "What's crack-a-lacking?"

On the screen, Adolf Hitler looked back at him with a noticeable frown, which might have been intimidating were he not dressed in a frilly red and yellow costume with bells and a green feathered cap, like a cross between a court jester and Robin Hood.

"First, please never use these awful American negro words in my presence ever again," he said sternly, his bells jingling with every motion. "Second, I should not need to tell you, we do not use our civilian names in uniform. You are usually much more circ*mspect about this."

Max shrugged.

"What would be the point? You and I are both out to the public. It seems silly to stand on ceremony anymore."

"You underestimate the importance of 'ceremony.' Everything about the world of parahumans is theatre, but that sound and fury grants the people the illusion of separation between our myths and our true identities. Even knowing who we really are, the people can more readily accept the reality of the Pied Piper than they can Adolf Hitler's return, just as Brockton Bay will still more readily fear and respect the name of Kaiser than they will Max Anders."

"Yes, mein fuhrer," Kaiser sighed, trying not to roll his eyes.

Pied Piper nodded, satisfied, and sat up straighter in his chair. From the background, he seemed to be in his personal office in one of his many secret bunkers around Germany, though Kaiser couldn't guess which one.

"I was calling to check upon you. I heard from Krieg that you had perished. I am glad to see that his report was... exaggerated."

"Thank you," Kaiser answered in a clipped, formal tone. "It was... an ordeal. But the Empire Eighty-Eight stood strong, did our duty, and we and the city survived."

Hitler nodded sympathetically.

"You did well. I would not have wished an Endbringer on Stalin. To have faced such a monster and survived is always commendable. But I was not speaking of the battle. I heard that you survived Leviathan, only to be left little more than a vegetable, and that you were then seemingly murdered in a hospital bathroom? I am glad to see that is not the case, but I am also perplexed, and would like an explanation for this incongruity in accounts."

Kaiser waved dismissively.

"Rumours and hearsay. I don't know what Krieg saw, and I can't rule out that some murders might have taken place; a lot happened that day, and I was not entirely coherent for all of it. But as you can see, I am still here, and I'm fine now. Unless of course I really did die, and this is Hell. But then, these days, how could you tell?"

Hitler snorted, almost smiling.

"I would not know. When I died it was all golden clouds and angelic choirs."

That was a joke. Probably. Kaiser couldn't entirely rule out that Hitler had heard singing angels, considering that the Simurgh existed, but he definitely didn't believe in any kind of afterlife. Even if he did, Pied Piper wouldn't have any reason to remember it anyway, since he technically wasn't the real Hitler, and had never truly experienced death himself.

Pied Piper liked to pretend otherwise, but it was common knowledge these days that he wasn't really the same man who'd kicked off World War II and initiated the holocaust. This man was actually little more than a parahuman clone of Hitler with all of the original's memories, just another of those sh*tty accidents of fate that tended to happen when powers were at work. Some Russian serial killer in the nineties had triggered after Behemoth levelled Moscow, acquiring a master power to summon and control perfect clones of dead people from their bones, and unbeknownst to her, one of her samples just happened to be the remains of Hitler taken by the Soviets.

Hitler spent some years as one of her many anonymous thralls, and everything was fine for a while (or at least as fine as it ever could be with a zombie horde slowly rolling across Europe), until eventually some reckless government cape in Lithuania plastered her brains over a wall. And so, because every evil on Earth Bet was always secretly holding back an even bigger evil, killing the master set all of her clones free rather than destroyed them, and Adolf Hitler himself now walked the land once again, now with added parahuman ability to hypnotise rodents and small children with music for some reason.

Thus was born the Pied Piper, and with him came Gesellschaft, and a new golden age for white supremacist movements worldwide, which Allfather and the Empire Eighty-Eight had gladly taken full advantage of.

And now Kaiser was stuck appeasing this asshole, too.

Thanks, Dad.

"Regardless," said Hitler, his face growing serious once more, "it is good that you have survived. Whatever else may have happened as of late, the Empire Eighty-Eight remains vital to Gesellschaft's North American interests. As I have said before, with your identities exposed, it falls upon you to keep your organisation strong and united. It is not a task I envy, nor one I would have trusted to any other. And with your own children not yet of age to lead, had you fallen here... let us say I would have had doubts about the Empire's future."

Kaiser tried to picture the Empire without his leadership, and his vision was not too optimistic either. True, he had offered leadership to Kayden back in April in order to bamboozle her into working for him again, but he had always been setting her up to fail. She had her supporters and allies within the Empire, but she would never have been able to control the likes of Hookwolf or the clans. Not without making enough concessions that her leadership would have barely been any different than his. Which was the point, after all.

"I agree," said Kaiser, nodding. "My ploy with Purity aside, I still lack for able successors. Perhaps that is my failing, but not many are equal to the task. I will endeavour to train up new people."

"Hmph." Hitler grumbled. "I would not count Purity out entirely. Were you to truly groom her for the role, rather than merely let her fail for your own ends, she would at least be a better choice than most. A choice I could abide, if needs must."

Kaiser tilted his head. "Really? You would approve of Purity truly leading the Empire? Not Krieg or Hookwolf?"

"Do not be mistaken." Hitler held up a halting hand. "Her antipathy towards the Gesellschaft is problematic, and I still do not personally approve of women leading soldiers. But it is 2011 now, and much has changed since my time. The Fourth Reich must necessarily be more progressive than the Third if we wish to avoid making the same mistakes, and parahuman abilities do warrant additional consideration.

"Whatever her other weaknesses, Purity at least has the power necessary to command respect from men, and that cannot be ignored. Hookwolf is powerful, but she is stronger even than him. And while I would normally be willing to overlook that for a male leader if Hookwolf at least showed greater agency, intelligence, or charisma than her, the fact is that he does not. My impression of him has always been that he lacks for direction or true ideological conviction. Hookwolf is, in short, a follower, not a leader.

"And as for Krieg, he is a... how do you Americans say it...? A little bitch-boy."

"...Yes, that's all very fair," said Kaiser.

He paused.

"Why does he do that stupid f*cking fake German accent anyway?"

"I don't know," Hitler groaned tiredly, shaking his head. "I have asked him to stop many times. I find it extremely offensive."

"He's not even German!" Kaiser shouted. "He's from f*cking Missouri!"

"I know!" cried Hitler, burying his face in his hands. "It's so embarassing! Mein Gott, does he know how he sounds? Does he think it's 'cool,' or something?"

"Krieg really is a little bitch-boy."

"He is such a bitch-boy!"

Taylor watched from the couch as Lisa led Rachel back into the room, gently tugging her by the sleeve while Rachel smouldered at her. Alec had taken a seat beside Taylor, and now had his feet up on Lisa's coffee table as scenes of disaster blared on her TV, while Brian sat in the chair next to Alec, still rigidly serious as he looked them over. Slowly, Taylor stood again, nervously facing Rachel as Lisa gave her an encouraging smile and thumbs up from over the girl's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," said Taylor, meeting Rachel's glare head on. "You risked your dogs to save me from Leviathan. I know how much they mean to you, and how much it must have hurt to make that choice. I'm sorry if I've made you regret that by betraying your trust. I just want you to know, it wasn't all bullsh*t, and it isn't just words. I am grateful, and I do want to make it up to you."

"f*ck you," Rachel spat.

Taylor took a deep breath.

"Okay. How about we make another deal? Number three, I think. And my deals with you are usually pretty fair, if I may say so myself."

Rachel's eyes narrowed.

"Last time, I offered you one free shot if I ruined your day," said Taylor. "This time, I think your day is already pretty well ruined, so you can just go ahead and take it. One free punch, as hard as you like, wherever you like. And then we call it even, put this all behind us."

"No," said Grue, standing up.

Taylor raised a hand, telling him to stay back without words or eye contact.

"But I'll go one step further," said Taylor. "If you can be satisfied with that, and you're willing to start over, I'll keep coming with you to help take care of your dogs. I'll bring you lunch, if you want it. I'll be your friend. Whatever you want. That's the deal I'm offering you."

"f*cking mind games," Rachel growled. "You think I'm stupid? You think if I hit you, then you can call it done, and go right back to manipulating me? f*ck you. I don't want any more of your fake bullsh*t."

Taylor's lower lip worried, but she kept steady.

"It wasn't fake, Rachel," she said. "I lied about being a villain. I didn't lie about the rest. I just wanted to get to know you."

"f*cking bullsh*t."

Taylor looked over to Lisa, who took that as her signal to intervene.

"Rachel, think about it," said Lisa, stepping to her side. "You didn't know anything special about Coil. You aren't the leader, or the one making all the plans. Taylor could've just ignored you after she joined if info was all she was really after. Why else would she have spent so much time with you if she didn't care?"

Rachel's brow furrowed. She was silent for a moment, looking over to Taylor, before turning back to Lisa with a determined frown.

"Because she's trying to f*ck me."

Alec burst into sudden laughter, while Grue sat up suddenly.

"What?" Taylor spluttered.

"Uhhh..." Lisa rapidly blinked. "I... don't think that's actually the case...? Taylor?"

She looked over to Taylor, who had gone slackjawed.

"What— Why do you even have to ask me that? Of course that's not what I was doing; I'm not into girls that way."

Rachel snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Rachel, you know I like guys," said Taylor, now visibly annoyed. "You even gave me advice about my crush on Brian."

"Wait, what?" said Brian. "When did this happen?"

Taylor blushed and looked away from him, while Alec snickered.

"Sorry, Tay, but I'm actually with Rachel on this one. Liking guys doesn't prove anything. Bisexuals exist, and we're valid. Can I get a hell yeah, sister?"

He held up a high-five to Rachel, grinning, but she instead gave him a furious glare.

Taylor crossed her arms and gave him a glare of her own.

"I never said they didn't, but I really don't like girls. I can promise you, Rachel, that's not what I'm after."

Lisa looked Taylor up and down, and then tilted her head.

"...Huh."

"Huh, what?" Taylor abruptly turned back to Lisa. "What's huh?"

"You aren't interested in Rachel that way; that much is true." Lisa nodded to Rachel, who seemed to ease up slightly. "Buuuuuut... power's slightly less convinced about your straightness."

Alec laughed again, and Taylor resisted the urge to kick him in the shin.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped. "I'm not in the closet. I don't have a reason to lie to you about this. And I think I have pretty good grasp on my own preferences. If your power's saying otherwise, then sorry, but it's wrong."

"It's not saying you definitely are." Lisa rubbed her chin like a scientist examining a particularly fascinating lab specimen. "It's more just... pointing out that you're oddly defensive about the topic."

"No sh*t," Taylor said flatly. "This is Brockton Bay, neo-Nazi capital of New England. Getting labelled as gay here could get you killed if the wrong person heard it. Even the girls at school never went that far, and there were very few lines they wouldn't cross."

Alec nodded solemnly. "The struggle is real."

"Well yeah, but none of us would out you to the Empire," said Brian, shrugging. "So why would it matter if we knew?"

"It doesn't. It wouldn't. There's nothing to out! I don't like girls!"

The swarm buzzed at the edge of Taylor's senses, and she took a deep breath as she centred herself, offloading her emotional reactions to her power.

"Look," she said, her voice now calm and even. "I don't know why this is such a big deal to you guys, but just trust me, alright? If I were gay, I wouldn't be in denial about it. I grew up in a very progressive household, with a very attractive best friend for most of my childhood, so I had plenty of opportunities to discover an interest in girls if I had one."

"Wait, wait, hold up," said Alec, holding back giggles. "Tell us more about your 'very attractive best friend,' straight girl."

Lisa rapidly shook her head at him, and Taylor's swarm briefly frenzied, though she gave no outward sign of it. She had to remind herself that Alec didn't yet know the full story of Emma, and that even he wouldn't intentionally poke at trigger trauma.

"I was talking in a descriptive sense," Taylor said evenly. "Like, all the guys in school found her attractive. She has an attractive appearance. That's not a judgement from me, or anything to do with my tastes. She's just objectively beautiful."

Alec smirked. "Sure. Descriptive. Objectively."

"She is literally a model!" Taylor shouted, no longer bothering to hold back on him. "I didn't decide she's hot! Society did!"

"So you're saying you wouldn't make out with her, given the chance?" Alec asked probingly.

Taylor's glare intensified.

"Absolutely not," she said venomously.

Lisa's eyes widened, and she she broke into a grin, opening her mouth to speak, before suddenly clamping her own hand over it to stop herself.

"I saw that!" said Alec, pointing a finger at her. "What did your power tell you? Spill!"

Taylor raised a threatening eyebrow at Lisa.

"N-Nothing," Lisa said with a nervous laugh.

Taylor sighed again, shaking her head.

"Okay, fine, I kissed her once," she grumbled, causing Alec to crow triumphantly. "But it wasn't anything like that! We were ten! Neither of us had ever kissed a boy before, we wanted to know what it was like, and I'd been reading Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit at the time—"

"Wait, back up," said Brian, holding up a hand. "You were reading sapphic literature at ten?"

"My mom was a college professor, alright?" Taylor rolled her eyes. "I read it along with her for her class."

Brian bit his lip, visibly straining not to say something.

"...Anyway, we kissed once to try it out, both thought it was weird, and then never talked about it or did anything like that again. That doesn't make me a lesbian. If anything, that's how I know I'm not, because it did nothing for me."

"Words," Rachel grumbled, folding her arms.

"Wha— Why do you care?" Taylor asked, turning to her. "Why do any of you care about this?"

"Because it's funny." Alec grinned.

"Because it's interesting." Lisa smirked.

"Because it's nice seeing you be the one to squirm for once," Rachel sneered.

"Do we really have nothing better to do than to debate my sexuality right now?" Taylor groaned. "An Endbringer just tore our city a new one, our boss is keeping a little girl drugged up in his creepy supervillain lair, and Armsmaster and everybody else at the hospital think he made me second trigger. Who f*cking cares if I'm gay or not?"

Alec shrugged.

"You're the one who brought up your hot best friend who totally wasn't your bisexual awakening, unprompted."

"To prove a point, because I wasn't attracted to her, and anyone who likes girls would be."

"I dunno about that," said Alec, leaning back and putting his arms behind his head. "Not everyone likes models. You're obviously into manly men, if tall, dark, and smoky here is anything to go by. Excellent taste, by the way. So maybe you're into butch women as well?"

Brian coughed and looked away, while Alec grinned over at Rachel, who noticed his look, and turned to squint suspiciously at Taylor.

"No," Taylor said firmly, fighting back a blush, from Brian's reaction, not from what Alec said.

"You sure? You're saying tall strong muscle mommies do nothing for you? You did say Alexandria was your favourite hero!"

"When I was nine!"

"I saw you staring at Narwhal before the Leviathan fight! Don't deny it!"

"She's seven foot tall and naked, with a giant horn growing from her head! Of course I was staring! Everyone was!"

"Hey, I'm not judging! Narwhal is top tier. She knocked out my dad's teeth once. That's an automatic ten out of ten for me."

Taylor groaned again and covered her face.

"Don't listen to Alec; he's an asshole," Lisa said, moving to Taylor's side. "I believe you. You know who you are."

She put a hand on her shoulder, and Taylor let out a breath as she stood straight again, while her bugs outside continued to go crazy.

"Thank you."

Lisa gave her a gentle smile. "I'm sorry for prodding. Can't help it sometimes. We don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Yeah, yeah," said Alec, rolling his eyes. "Don't take it personally, dork."

Taylor sighed.

"...It's fine."

"But you do know you can tell us anything, right?" Lisa said encouragingly. "We're your friends, and we'll always accept you for who you—"

"Lisa, I swear to God, I will give you head lice."

Thomas savoured the contrast between his two timelines. It was nice to be able to feel Light Coil's altered state of mind without it affecting his ability to conduct business as Dark Coil. It was a unique feeling – one which he doubted any other human could truly know. The best thing he could compare it to was an out of body experience. The drunkenness was happening to him, and yet he had a sense of distance from it all, an outside observer to himself. It was surreal, but in a good way.

While Light Coil lay on the couch, near comatose, Dark Coil had taken one of the seats in front of Piggot's desk to finish skimming the folder she'd handed him, while Miss Militia and Legend remained standing. Their discussion continued, with Thomas easily dividing his attention between both his reading and the conversation.

"...It could very quickly get out of hand," Miss Milita was saying to the group. "People who are desperate make prime recruiting material. The last thing we need right now is the Empire or Merchants gaining more power while we're understaffed."

"Short of shoring up our own numbers, I think our best bet is getting public services and infrastructure back in working order as quickly as possible," Thomas said without looking up from his reading. "The refugees would be a lot less desperate if we could depend on the shelters having food, water, and electricity. We should see what we can do to hurry along relief efforts."

"I agree," said Piggot. "But it's not our jurisdiction. Governor Northbrook and the federal government will decide what relief we get and how quickly, and large scale restoration projects will likely have to wait until after we know if the city is to be condemned or not. Our ability to affect the process may be limited."

"We could at least try to divert some resources to clean-up, couldn't we?" asked Coil. "Perhaps we could ask Legend and some of the other out of town capes to help clear debris from the roads? Even just opening up routes for transport again would significantly speed up relief efforts."

And save me that God-awful commute, he privately added.

Legend gave a small smile.

"I could indeed help with that, if need be. I believe Miss Militia's explosives could also break up some of the larger obstructions?"

She nodded in response. "Yes. Although, what we really need is brutes who could clear it away entirely, not just break it into smaller pieces."

"We don't have many brutes left in Brockton Bay, since losing Aegis and Dauntless," Piggot said with a sigh that was more annoyed than mournful. "Even New Wave lost Manpower."

"We still have Triumph, and the out of towners," Thomas pointed out, pausing his reading to look to the others. "Glory Girl from New Wave may also be helpful... if she's feeling up to it after her recent family losses."

Miss Militia nodded. "Browbeat, too."

Thomas turned to her.

"...Who the f*ck is Browbeat?"

Before Miss Militia could answer, Piggot interrupted.

"These are all good suggestions, but regardless, road clearance should not be our highest priority at the moment. It will take a few days, but city services do have the means to move the rubble on their own, and in fact have already begun doing so. Some areas are even still getting trash collection on time today, if you can believe it. I believe we should focus our efforts on the areas that we alone can make a difference with, namely limiting violent crime, and keeping problematic parahuman elements under control."

Thomas Calvert blinked.

"Excuse me, what?"

"What?" said Piggot, turning to him.

"Say that again?"

"...I believe we should focus our efforts on—"

"No, no, before that." Thomas waved his hand in a backward motion.

Piggot raised a curious eyebrow.

"I said some areas are still getting trash collected?"

"Which areas?"

"I... don't know? The areas that were due for collection today, I assume. Why is this important?"

Thomas nearly choked. Though he couldn't see the colour of his skin was while using his power, he was sure he had gone white as a sheet.

Of all the times for municipal services to do their f*cking jobs!

"Excuse me, I have to make a call," he said, flipping open his cellphone and rushing out of the office as quickly as possible.

Dark Coil slammed Piggot's office door behind him in one timeline, running past Jill and down the corridor to a maintenance closet as he dialled a number, while Light Coil in his own timeline rolled off the couch and directly into a puddle of puke.

"Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up you son of a— Pitter!" He grinned as he closed the closet door behind him, fumbling with a lightswitch to illuminate the cramped, dark room.

"Sir? What's the problem?" asked the man on the other end.

"I need an update on that trash situation, right now," he whisper-shouted. "Have the men picked it up yet?"

"Ummm... no, I don't believe so, sir. They left thirty minutes ago, but the usual routes from the base to Captain's Hill are blocked today. Allowing time for them to make it there while avoiding downtown, locating the target, and discretely removing it, I would estimate..."

Thomas was no longer paying attention, looking to his watch instead, which reported the time as nearly ten in the morning already. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

In his throwaway timeline, Light Coil forced himself up, stumbling to his front door and drunkenly staggering down the garden path back to his dumpster. When he reached the road, he stared up the hill, and his heart leapt into his throat at the sight of the garbage truck in the distance, slowly making its way past his far away neighbours' houses.

"Oh, damn it all," Dark Coil said in what was supposed to be his main timeline. "The garbagemen are less than two minutes away. They aren't going to make it in time, are they?"

There was an awkward silence from the phone, until Pitter reluctantly answered.

"It seems not, sir."

Dark Coil let out a sigh.

"Thank you, Mr. Pitter... It's been awful. Kill yourself."

He ended the call, and furiously kicked the nearest stack of cleaning supplies, spilling bottles of bleach everywhere and knocking over mops and brooms.

While Dark Coil raged, Light Coil was busy climbing inside the dumpster and trying to hoist Kaiser's corpse out as the flies buzzed around him.

"Come.. onnnn...!"

He was lifting it, but very slowly. He wasn't just moving an entire human body, but a hundred pounds of sharp metal as well, which cut his hands and caught on the edges of the dumpster as he tried to pull it out, as well as slicing open other garbage bags and spilling rotting food and dirty plastic packaging everywhere. To make matters worse, only Kaiser's own power was able to alter his blades once created, so his armour was a stiff, unbending shape. It was more like trying to pick up a particularly awkwardly-shaped statue than a dead body.

"Goddamnit!" Coil growled.

The garbage truck was getting closer.

"Damnit..."

He had no choice. He dropped the timeline where he went to work this morning and was now screaming incoherently in a closet, and immediately split the timelines again while running back towards the house.

The sense of disconnect as an outside observer disappeared, replaced by one hundred percent intoxication in both timelines. Thomas was not happy with this development, knowing objectively that his judgement was compromised, and that any plan or course of action he took right now was questionable at best, but there was quite literally no time left to doubt himself. He had to take action, and so while Dark Coil ran upstairs to get the supplies he needed in one timeline, Light Coil went for the cellphone he'd left in the puddle of his puke and phoned the PRT in the other.

"This is Commander Calvert," he said, trying not to slur his words. "I have a... I need to report a situation. There's a dead body in my dumpster, outside my house... It's Kaiser."

While he tried his best to explain the situation in a non-incriminating fashion, Dark Coil ran outside carrying several bottles of flammable spirits, which he began rapidly pouring into the dumpster. His eyes were wide and manic as he coated Kaiser's body and the surrounding garbage with as much of the stuff as possible, periodically looking over his shoulder at the approaching garbage truck. When he'd done as much as he could, he opened a box of matches, lit one, and tossed it in.

Calvert's dumpster erupted into an inferno, and he staggered back away from it, shielding his eyes, even as Light Coil in the other timeline play-acted his distress at discovering Max Anders' body.

The garbagemen approached more or less simultaneously in both timelines. In one, Light Coil tried to stammer out an explanation, showing them the body and including them in the conversation with the PRT as corroborating witnesses, hoping and praying that the near lethal level of vodka in his system didn't make him say something f*cking stupid and blow his cover story. In the other, Dark Coil tried his best to ward them away from the literal garbage fire he had created.

"Get out! Go away!" he screamed at the confused and fearful men, practically foaming at the mouth as he waved his arms wildly at them. "This is my garbage, goddamnit! I'm free to burn my own property if I want to, you f*cking fascists! I'M AN AMERICAN!"

It was only after the two left without checking inside the dumpster that Dark Coil finally let himself breathe a sigh of relaxation, collapsing back against it. He would keep both timelines going for a while longer, and see which approach worked out better for him. He strongly suspected that owning up to finding Kaiser's body would work out worse for him in the long term with the obvious unanswerable questions it raised, but he'd have to wait and see what the consequences of the arson route were before he could decide.

It was only then that it dawned on him that he'd now admitted to skipping work to get drunk, and called Piggot a fat cow, in both his timelines.

Thomas Calvert buried his face in his hands and screamed.

Kayden slowed as she approached the roof, touching down gently as her white glow dimmed. Not far away, Max sat at the edge, legs dangling over the side of the building as he stared absently across the city, looking oddly naked in his T-shirt and jeans. It was probably the most casual she'd seen him dress in... she couldn't even remember how long.

"Troops are gathering at Medhall," she reported. "Krieg and Hookwolf will be there with their people. I told them to expect us this afternoon, as you said."

He glanced aside at her as she walked over to him.

"Good," he said simply, turning back to the city.

"Something the matter?" she asked coolly.

It was courtesy, not concern. Max had been a mess last night, and the Empire needed him fighting fit for the days ahead, so it had fallen to her to help him recover. But now that he'd had time to comport himself, she knew it would be back to business as usual. Whatever trauma he had suffered at the hands of Leviathan, Max Anders wasn't the type to expose weakness willingly. She had brought herself some goodwill with him, she was sure, and she intended to use that in the days ahead. But now was the time to get things back on track.

Max shrugged.

"I was thinking," he said in his smooth, familiar lilt. "How much of my life do you think I've wasted on theatrics?"

The question took Kayden aback.

"I... don't understand?"

"What I mean to say is, I've spent so much of my life on appeasing others, telling others what they want to hear, playing this masquerade with so many people. I've never just been direct about what I want, have I? How often have the two of us simply had a conversation, without all the layers of metaphors and double meanings hidden between?"

He looked at her again, and Kayden was struck by how defeated he looked. This was not business as usual with Max, as she'd expected. This was still the Max she met last night.

She shifted into her more sympathetic mode. It didn't sit right with her, with how she felt about the man, but it was evidently what he needed right now.

"You seemed pretty direct last night... What's brought this about?"

Max sighed, turning around and standing to his full height.

"Kayden... I could've died yesterday. My life was over, and what did it all amount to in the end? A disgraced name? A corporation no-one will do business with? An ex-wife and son who hate me? A white supremacist gang fighting over scraps in a dying city?"

He laughed bitterly, and Kayden couldn't help but wonder where he was going with this.

"I can't even take solace in what I've accomplished 'for the cause,' because the ugly truth is that I've never really given a sh*t about the cause. That was my family's calling. I'm just the one who kept it going. I've only ever been in this for personal gain, and yet in the end, I've gained nothing. What kind of legacy am I leaving, Kayden?"

Kayden blinked.

"Wait, what do you mean you don't give a sh*t?"

"I mean it's all bullsh*t, Kayden," Max said bluntly, looking back out over the city. "The ideology, the speeches, the spectacle, they're all just tools for binding a large group of useful idiots together. I've honestly never really even cared all that much about race. Sure, the blacks and Asians commit violent crimes and sell drugs and scare off the tourists, but the Empire does all that and more. If you ask me, about the only thing we have going for us that makes us better than the other gangs in this sh*thole is that we don't keep slaves. Which is highly f*cking ironic when you think about it."

Kayden stared at him.

"Are. You. f*cking serious?!" she growled. "You're the one who convinced me that it's the other races who are the problem! Ever since high school, you were whispering that in my ear. 'It's their fault. They're the enemy. We have to look out for our own.' You lured me back to the Empire and away from being a solo hero by telling me that! And now you're saying that was just another one of your lies all along?"

"Yes." Max turned back to her and raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're surprised by this? I've lied to you about everything else. Why is this any different?"

"Oh my f*cking God!" she said, turning away and burying her face in her hands. "I can't keep putting up with this, Max! This, right here? This is why everybody leaves you. You are pathologically incapable of telling the truth, aren't you? And I knew that! I knew you were a liar, I knew you always played me for a fool, but God help me, for some f*cking reason I thought I could at least trust you on this! I thought surely the head of a f*cking neo-Nazi gang must at least believe in some of that gang's ideology and rhetoric. Surely it couldn't all be bullsh*t, right? But no! It really is! It's all just more Max Anders lies, all the way to the bottom!"

"...Okay, harsh, but fair," Max said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "But that's exactly why I want to start being more honest from now on."

Kayden threw her head back and let out a hysterical laugh.

"Jesus, are you serious? How am I supposed to believe that? How is anyone supposed to respect or trust you ever again? All you ever do is manipulate and use people, like it's some giant f*cking game! You take and take until we have nothing left to give, and then throw us away like trash! I don't believe for a second that you're going to be honest from now on. I don't even believe you're being honest right now."

"Am too," Max said with an annoyed frown.

"Prove it," Kayden growled.

"And how the f*ck am I supposed to do that?"

He yelped as Kayden stomped over and grabbed him by the lapelle, backing him towards the edge of the roof.

"I don't know," she said, looking him in the eye as she raised a fist, "but you'd better think of something quick. Give me one good reason to believe that this all isn't just another big lie."

She expected a predictable response. A glare of steel. A veiled threat. A latticework of blades forming around him. But instead he simply glanced down at the edge of the roof behind him, took a deep breath, and looked back to her with those sad eyes.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he said, spreading his arms. "I'm sorry, I suppose? I am. I'm sorry. I was selfish, and dishonest, and I didn't respect you or Theo as I should've, and now I regret it. Believe me, or don't. It doesn't really matter. I can't prove it to you one way or the other. You have no reason to trust me."

Kayden nearly faltered, but steeled her resolve and pulled him close to her face.

"You're damn right about that," she snarled. "So here's what's going to happen. You're gonna get off your ass, get over whatever the hell this is, and never breathe a word of this to anyone. You're going to lead the Empire. We're going to rally the troops. We'll kick Coil's f*cking teeth in, and put the Empire back on top. Then you're going to make good on our deal to put me in charge, and we're going to do some actual good for this city. I think that's the least you owe me."

The corner of Max's mouth quirked, and he held up both hands in a gesture of surrender.

"As the madam demands."

She turned him away from the edge and let him go, and he took a stumbling step back from her.

"What's with the new clothes, anyway?" she asked, eyeing him up and down.

"New me, new look," Max said, dusting himself off. "Why are you asking, anyway? You left these out for me with my other clothes, didn't you?"

"No? Actually, I'm pretty sure those are Theo's."

"What?" Max looked down and grabbed his shirt. "No, he's a teenage boy, there's no way his clothes would fit a grown—"

It was only then as he held a was of balled up shirt in his his hands that he realised just how baggy it was on him. Come to think of it, the pants were pretty loose as well. He'd needed to tie his belt pretty tight this morning.

Max was quiet as he stared down at his clothes again, reassessing, before looking back to Kayden.

"...Why is my son so f*cking fat?"

"Jesus Christ, what did the boss do to this guy?" asked Terry, lifting the dead Kaiser by the shoulders as he backed up into the van.

"I don't know, man," Nate said with a sigh, lifting Kaiser's legs. "I don't get paid enough to ask."

The back of the delivery van bounced as the two disguised mercenaries lifted the blanket-covered corpse inside, which they gently set down on a filthy roll of carpet, while flies buzzed around the festering, gaping holes in Kaiser's back and forehead. In the enclosed space of the van, the body stank of charred flesh and burned garbage, and Terry coughed and sprayed the air with deodorant to stop it.

"When we get back to base, I'm handing in my notice," he said, eyes watering as they climbed back out. "I didn't sign up for this sh*t."

"We're under contract." Nate frowned. "You ain't getting out of here 'til November, at least."

"f*ck that," said Terry as they climbed into their seats and buckled up. "I signed up thinking this was a professional operation. That's what Accord promised. Bond villain henchmen. Not this psycho hillbilly sh*t."

He started the engine, and soon they were cruising down Captain's Hill towards the city centre, Leviathan's recent devastation passing by either side of them, and becoming increasingly more obvious the further they went.

"You don't wanna stick it out, see if anything comes of Tattletale's offer?" asked Nate.

Terry sighed.

"I don't know, man. I want to, but she didn't exactly give us a timetable. How long am I gonna have to ride this out in the meantime? Did you see the boss back there? He was obviously tweaking, or drunk, or something, which ain't good for someone with that kind of temper. I was half expecting him to shoot us, he was so pissed. And now I've got the body of an infamous neo-Nazi gang leader in the back of my van, who he did God knows what to, and it's just like... where does it end, Nate? What am I doing with my life? My dad was right, this whole thing was a f*cking terrible idea."

"Hmm." Nate's expression didn't change. "Speaking of, any objections to calling Tattletale and letting her know what the boss has had us doing?"

Terry kept his eyes on the road, but performed a flourish with his free hand.

"By all means."

But just as Nate opened his phone and began to dial, his eyes darted to something on the street corner.

"Holy f*ck—!"

Contessa wasted no time as she stepped once again onto the sodden streets of Brockton Bay, the portal disappearing behind her as she checked her watch. She had been running all over this town for the past eighteen hours, putting out various fires while setting up a Rube Goldberg machine of events for reasons beyond her immediate comprehension. It was nothing she hadn't done before, but she didn't like it when the Path guided her this specifically for so vague a purpose.

The allotted time had passed, so it was safe to move now. She now had twenty minutes to set up the rest of the chain. First, she reached into her suit jacket's inner pocket and drew a black .38 special revolver in a sealed plastic bag, a standard issue police pistol. Opening it, she dropped the gun in a muddy puddle just at the entrance to an alleyway where it blended into the ground, and kicked a wet candy bar wrapper over it. Then she immediately turned and raced up the nearby hill, sprinting as fast as she could.

This part of the Path demanded a series of perfectly executed tasks. Letting it guide her, grabbed a rock from the ground, as well as an oil can she'd stashed earlier in the day, and began pouring it behind her as she ran, leaving a slick trail moving diagonally across the road, starting from a pothole roughly in the middle.

The oil ran out as Contessa detoured into a residential street, throwing the empty cannister into the middle of the road ahead of her. A child's trampoline stood in a nearby front yard, soaking wet, with partly rusted springs. Contessa jumped the fence and kicked out one of the trampoline's legs, snapping it in one smooth motion, and causing the trampoline to fall on its side at an angle. She didn't pause, instead leaping back over the fence and continuing to run up the street, until she lobbed the rock directly through an upper window at the end.

"Hey!" an old man called out from inside.

No time to stop.

Soon she was out of the residential side street, and near a crossroads further up the hill. Contessa drew a gun from her holster and shot out one of the amber traffic lights, still not stopping even for a second.

She was just starting to sweat now from all the uphill sprinting, which was itself a step on the Path, but relief was ahead, along with the next phase of the plan. A rundown convenience store sat a little further up the street, with a line of upturned and abandoned shopping carts outside, and trash littering the floor from where looters had hit.

Contessa darted inside, evading the paths of the cameras, and grabbed a large water bottle from the shelf, before bolting for the door again.

"Hey!" the boy at the counter called.

"You were right, Cheryl was cheating!" Contessa shouted. "She told Emily all about it!"

"WHAT?!"

That would presumably keep him too distracted to report her, so now free, Contessa chugged the water from the bottle until it was half-empty, grabbed a free shopping cart, and drove it uphill as fast as she could move. As she passed a tree, she quickly stripped off her suit jacket and threw it onto a loose branch, and then began unbuttoning her shirt as well.

She checked her watch again. As the clock ticked over, she abruptly threw the shopping cart off the sidewalk, maneuvering it behind a parked car, and then continued sprinting the rest of the way. She was almost at the top of the hill now.

As she approached the summit, Contessa stripped off her shirt as well, and tied it around her waist, leaving her in only a thin tank top with a mostly bare midriff. Sweating and nearly out of breath, she doused herself with the rest of her water, soaking both her hair and her top, and then came to a stop at the final intersection, where she tossed her empty water bottle into a trashcan across the street with a perfect throw. She checked her watch one last time, and then looked to he right to see the approaching delivery van.

Contessa sighed.

I always hate this part, she mused, facing the driver and lifting her tanktop.

"Holy f*ck!" she heard a man shout inside the passing vehicle. "Terry, look at that girl's ti—!"

He didn't get another word in before another car came out of nowhere, hitting the delivery van and sending it careening out of control. The driver tried to brake, but succeeded only in flipping it on its side. The back doors burst open, and something that looked like a clumped up ball of swords went flying out the back and down the hill, rolling and bouncing until it landed directly in the shopping cart further down.

Contessa stared on with a quiet melancholy, watching as the drivers struggled to escape the overturned van, and her power's latest Rube Goldberg machine was finally set into motion.

Tanktop Tessa strikes again.

The trolley containing Kaiser's charred and rotting corpse rocketed down the hill with no regard for any in its way. Pedestrians and vehicles alike swerved to avoid its path, and all but one succeeded. A suit jacket blown from a nearby tree fell and covered the back window of a resident's car, just as he was trying to back out of his driveway, causing him to collide with the shopping cart and change its course at a critical moment.

The shopping cart rolled at an odd angle down the remainder of the hill, until it came to another crossroads. Without an amber light telling him to prepare to stop, a driver who would have otherwise slowed his approach instead shot across the intersection, colliding with the trolley and sending it spinning out.

Rather than continuing straight down, the shopping cart veered off into a side street at high speed, entering a residential neighbourhood. It narrowly passed by an old man angrily stomping around the street outside while pointing at a broken window, and collided with the parked car of a concerned neighbour who had paused his morning commute to help. Both shouted in shock and anger as the trolley crumpled against the car, and a spiky lump of metal flipped over through the air, showering blood and meat everywhere.

Kaiser's corpse rolled across two more parked cars, over a garden wall, and landed on a child's trampoline at high velocity, which had collapsed on one side in just such a way to send the body hurtling back towards the road. One of the corpse's blades impaled an empty oil cannister lying in the middle of the road, and together they went skidding out into another street, with the corpse riding the oil cannister like a macabre snowboarder.

Back on the main road, the corpse found an oil slick, and perfectly followed its trail downhill as it zig-zagged across the street, bouncing off walls, lampposts, and trashcans in perfect succession, changing directions at just the right times to avoid head-on collisions with traffic, or anything which would have arrested its momentum.

As it neared the bottom of the hill, the corpse of Max Anders rapidly approached its final destination at maximum velocity.

"Joel, slow— Joel. Joel. Listen to me, goddamnit!" Emily shouted down the phone, her voice muffled by the gas mask she usually wore while out as Spitfire. "Cheryl doesn't tell me dick about what she does, or who she's sleeping with. I barely know the girl. I haven't even spoken to her in a week."

Ahead of her, Newter crawled along on all fours, tail swishing behind him as he shot Gregor the Snail a puzzled look. Gregor, for his part, was ignoring both of them, reading over a notepad as he walked. The three of them made an intimidating enough sight that no-one gave them trouble, but the mercenaries of Faultline's crew were familiar to the local residents around Palanquin, so nobody went out of their way to avoid them, either.

"I don't know why, Joel! You still haven't said who even told you this in the first place! Have you ever considered that they may have just been making sh*t up? I— Yeah, I got a mask on. There's a carbon monoxide leak in my—"

Emily came to a sudden stop at the mouth of an alleyway, and Gregor and Newter stopped ahead of her, waiting with curious looks.

"You know what? Why don't you call Cheryl and ask her, okay? I don't mean to be rude, but we had just a f*cking Endbringer attack, and some of us have got bigger problems right now than your relationship issues."

There was a pause.

"Yeah, you're welcome." Emily hung up. "Change of plans, guys. We're going to the Shop Smart instead. I don't want to see Joel today."

"Awww, but Shop Smart's chicken tendies aren't as good!" Newter whined.

"I have no objections," Gregor said a nod. "It will save us the walk up the hill."

"Yeah, but—"

Newter's complaining was interrupted by a sudden scraping noise, and turned just in time to see a huge chunk of metal come flying downhill and hit a pothole. Something that looked like an oil cannister separated from the mass and flew off in another direction, while the larger, spikier centre came straight towards them.

Gregor and Newter cried out together as the metal hit them, throwing both Case 53s against a nearby wall, and spraying blood, snail goo, and hallucinogenic orange fluids everywhere. Had they not had parahuman durability, the impact absolutely would have killed them. Emily narrowly avoided the collision herself, stumbling back with a startled scream, until her feet caught on something which exploded underneath her and made her jump.

Scrambling, Emily found the source of the sudden noise. A loaded revolver lay on the ground by her boots, half-concealed by a soggy candy bar wrapper. She quickly scooped it up.

"Holy sh*t!" she said, running to her friends' side. "Are you guys okay?"

Gregor and Newter groaned in pain, the bigger man shifting the mass of metal off of them, while Newter slumped against the wall. The metal mass landed with a clang on the sidewalk, and it was only then that Emily noticed the flies buzzing around it.

"Wait, holy sh*t..." she whispered.

"Fuuu-uu-uuuuck...!" Newter whined. "I think I broke my everything..."

"Oh..." said Gregor, eyes going wide. "Oh, this is not good..."

"What?" said Newter, seething as he tried to stand. "What are you guys— Oh, sh*t."

"That's Kaiser," said Emily, not daring to breathe. "Somebody just threw Kaiser at us. Threw Kaiser's dead body at us."

"Who appears to have been... burned to death," Gregor said slowly, turning to Spitfire. "And is presently covered in my slime, and Newter's hallucinogens... and has been shot in the head... by a gun with your fingerprints on it."

Emily's eyes slowly moved down to the gun in her hand. More precisely, her bare hand, which she had ungloved to answer Joel's phone call.

"Oh, f*ck me."