Blood pulses in my temples. Throbs with impatient beats, begging to be released. I—can control blood. It's so simple—just a thought, and blood-forged blades fly out, tearing through everything in their path. Lisa... she's tilted her head so conveniently; one upward swing and…her head would be severed, rolling across the table… thump-thump-thump… Coil. Thomas Calvert—a sharp movement and I'd slice him in two, from shoulder to groin, the blades so thin and sharp he wouldn't even know what happened. He'd just stand there, with those meaningless little eyes of his behind his spectacles, glass cracked right down the center… until I shove him in the chest and he splits apart.
I breathe out. Clench my fists. Stay calm, Taylor. Everybody has thoughts like these, right? Everyone—absolutely everyone—sometimes imagines lopping off their friend's head, right? Punching right through her chest, ripping out her heart. And it's even more natural to think this about your enemy. And Coil—he's no friend of mine. Maybe I should just kill him? Lisa would like it, she wanted him dead too. Slowly. Eaten alive by insects… no, ripped apart with bare hands, gouge the eyes out and savor his last breath… then finish off Lisa, that girl who seriously thinks she's smarter than anyone else.
God, what am I even thinking? I catch myself, exhale, Taylor, breathe, breathe deeper. Is this how you become a Butcher? Was everything I did for nothing? Is my power useless? Did I not defeat the Butcher's curse?
"That's not true, Taylor," the Fifth's voice sounds in my head, "It's not us. It's you. You're the monster, Taylor. You want this, just admit it to yourself. Stop hiding. Stop lying to yourself."
"No. That can't be. I'm not like that. I…" I recall the sweet satisfaction that washed over me when Oni Lee clutched at his throat by my feet. The sweetness when my foot shattered his skull, splattered his brain across the sidewalk. It felt good. I was right. I had every right, he started it! I wanted to talk, but the bastard pushed his luck.
"These are all excuses, Taylor. Admit it—you liked it. Admit it—you wanted it. You even played with him. With the power you've got now, you could have easily taken him alive. Could have. Or you could have killed him straight away. But you chose to play with him and then kill him. Because you needed an excuse."
"Screw you, Fifth. Fine. Suppose I am a monster. I'm a beast who enjoys killing. I don't know what's wrong with me, but… whatever! That doesn't change the fact that I want to do good. For Lisa, for my father, for this city!"
"Oh. So Coil is just the same. Wants to do good and tortures Lisa. If not for his power, he'd be torturing here, now, in this reality. He's a special forces commander, a veteran. You think he's never tortured anyone in the field?"
"…Taylor? Are you listening?" Lisa turns, eyes wide, her face pale as she shifts away from me. "Tay-Tay? Please, don't—"
"What? Lisa, you got it all wrong, wait…" I blurt out, feeling my heart in my shoes. Did she read my intentions? They were just thoughts, I wasn't going to… I've got myself under control!
"Y-yeah. Sure." She nods, but the tightness in her shoulders betrays her. She's scared of me.
"Lisa…"
"It's okay, Tay-Tay," she smiles, brushing hair from her face, "really. I knew this would happen. Let's keep going."
"Lisa…" I look at her with pain in my heart. Never in my life did I want to frighten my friends. Is that all I'm good for? Killing and scaring people shitless? Horrible Taylor, Terrifying Taylor… Maybe I should call myself the Grim Reaper?
"No, really, I'm fine. You're not actually going to do it, right?" she says with a strained smile, stretched thin and awkward like a tiny jacket on a large hanger.
"Butcher personalities push the host toward constant conflict, volatile outbursts, impulsive violence," Coil says, adjusting his glasses, looking just like our history teacher, "That's why people like me, like Miss Wilborn, are essential for your immediate circle, Miss Hebert. We're your anchor of sanity, your external moral compass. I know I'm pragmatic and cynical, but Miss Wilborn is well-suited for the job. For all her sarcasm, she's highly moral. In my opinion, excessively so."
"Says the guy who wants to abduct a child!" Lisa snaps.
"She's the most powerful precog on the planet. One way or another, her power will be used. It's too important—not just for you, me, or Miss Hebert. For the world," Coil shakes his head. "Dinah Alcott—a Level Twelve Prophet. I can't predict futures, especially not on that scale. If we don't kidnap Dinah Alcott, someone else will, and they won't care about morals. Most likely the Yangban. Imagine the conditions they'd keep her in."
"Oh, like yours are any better! You'd keep her chained up and doped! Freaking pedophile…"
"That's not true—"
"Want to argue, Coil?" Lisa tilts her head. "I can see right through you, all the way to your last filthy thought… Not so complicated, are you? You know how easy you are to kill? Delayed poison… radioactive materials. Terminal illness. Or just a situation where Taylor decides to kill you in both probability lines."
I watch them, reclining in my chair, drumming my fingers on the table. Lisa's distracted from me, focused on Coil. Good. Coil is like a red flag to a bull for her; she stops acting like the arrogant top student and starts spitting venom. Maybe he's worth keeping around just for that. Though…the Butchers are right, it's dangerous. Shall I let them kill him? For now he's useful… but for how long? And am I enjoying this more than I should? The path to becoming a Butcher starts with little steps down a slippery slope, right? First you kill those who attack, then those who even think about it, then those who might, and then anyone you think might possibly pose a threat. Then everyone else. Whatever… I'll save Coil's fate for later. There's always time to kill. Especially since, as practice shows, it's surprisingly easy for me. Right now, I have crises—several, actually—and I need all the resources I can get.
"Look at her," Lisa continues, pressing Coil morally, "You know what she's thinking? How easy it'd be for her to decide you never existed? So, think twice, dammit, before provoking me, Coil. You're walking on thin ice—a tight line called Lisa Wilborn's patience, and I never had much of it, Thomas Calvert! Taylor!" She turns to me, "Tell me, are you the sole person who decides if this specimen of humanity lives or dies?"
"No," I answer immediately. "You're my partner, and I include you in that decision. Regarding Coil—excuse me, Mr. Calvert, but I trust Lisa. If she gives the thumbs down, you die. So don't quarrel with her. I'll miss you. I don't care about your resources, your connections, your money, mercenaries, contract teams, obligations—none of it. If Lisa says you've outlived your usefulness, you die. Instantly. Remember the beacon I put in you? It multiplies. They're all through your body now—heart, liver, lungs, brain. I just have to give the command." I shrug. "There's no way back for you."
"Miss Hebert…" he starts, but I cut him off.
"No, let me finish. Your previous actions haven't inspired my trust. Still, I believe in second chances—and that's what you get. But it won't be from currying favor or sowing discord between me and Lisa. Your second chance lies through Lisa Wilborn, Mr. Calvert. She's the one you threatened, she's the one whose probability clones you tortured, and she sees right through you. Your chance lasts until her patience wears out… as she said, her patience is delicate stuff, and I'd advise not to test it. You have probability-checking powers, right? So go on—try, in another reality, telling Lisa you won't cooperate. Test my intentions. Maybe I'm bluffing. Maybe you'll survive, maybe I need you more than I let on… well?"
I look him straight in the eye. All it would take is a little rebellion, and he'd be dead, right here at the briefing table, in his underground base. I'm tired of these games between them. Any day, any time—I'll choose Lisa. No matter how useful Coil is. So—he'd better know his place.
I watch, and catch a flicker in his eyes. Outwardly, he shows nothing, but the beacons in his body let me know his pulse has spiked and his body's gone into fight-or-flight. So, he tested my resolve in another timeline—and died of massive ruptures and brain hemorrhage. I keep my eyes locked on his. He swallows.
"I… understand, Miss Hebert. Miss Wilborn, my apologies. I'm ready to cooperate further."
"And I don't want to come back to this ever again," I say. "Lisa, if he crosses the line, just tell me. I believe in second chances, not third. Mr. Calvert, is that clear?"
"Yes, Miss Hebert."
"Good. Now that we've sorted out the chain of command… what's the deal with Dinah Alcott? Save us the stupidity—I'm siding with Lisa: no kidnapping kids on my watch."
"In that case, we'll have to sign a contract with her. But she's the mayor's niece. Soon, her services will be so expensive, we won't be able to afford them. As soon as everyone learns about her power… the cost of a question to a precog of this level will skyrocket. Way more than a million dollars," Coil says.
"I see," I say, "so what? Make more money."
"Not necessarily." That sardonic smile finally returns to Lisa's face. "Barter's an option. After all, Dinah Alcott and her family live in Brockton Bay, and if we become the strongest political and military force here, we'll be able to trade favors with the Alcotts. Starting with protection, which a little Prophet 12 will need."
"Just extortion." I shake my head. "I don't like the idea of selling protection. But there's a point."
"We need a pilot project," Coil says. "I suggest we immediately take control of ABB—or what's left of it. Thanks to Miss Hebert, they've lost their last cape and…"
I listen, but my mind conjures up the image of me standing over Oni Lee's headless body, fists clenched, breathing heavy. In that moment, I felt invincible. But Fifth brought me down quickly. He told me—foolish—I couldn't have reasoned with Oni Lee. He saw it in Oni Lee's behavior. Oni Lee didn't go to the bathroom, never shifted from foot to foot. He just teleported and… his body always had an empty bladder. What does that mean, Taylor? If his body vanishes with a full bladder, turning to dust? It means he doesn't teleport—he creates new bodies. The old ones dissolve. And with them—self-preservation instincts, and, it seems, intelligence. He's a puppet, Taylor, that's why you beat him so easily. If he had a shred of imagination, you would've had to do much more.
So don't get cocky, Taylor. You're still small fry among the big, scary capes, especially since there are powers that can counter yours, like rock-paper-scissors. Like Gray Boy… or Bakuda's bombs.
"…especially since Miss Hebert managed to recruit Bakuda," Coil continues, adjusting his glasses, "that'll make things easier. Miss Wilborn, what do you think? Since you're my boss now."
"Plans. You make good ones," Lisa admits, grudgingly. "And, yes: if we intend to control the city, now's the time. Hesitate, and Empire and Merchants will grab the turf—it'll be harder later. But we need a rebranding. We can't fly under the Butchers', Teeth's, ABB's banners, or hide behind your faceless mercenaries."
"PR and public opinion aren't my strong suits," Coil shrugs. "That's your department, Miss Wilborn."
"I wonder, when you tortured me, were you this polite?" Lisa narrows her eyes. "When you drilled into my skull to wire in electrodes?"
"Usually, yes," Coil answers dryly. "But sometimes, you got under my skin, Miss Wilborn. You're remarkably good at it."
"So, you can be gotten to." Lisa nods. "And I managed it without even a swarm of bugs. I'm glad. Did you like it?"
"Sorry, Miss Wilborn, but no. You can be… rather unbearable."
"Hm. Well." Lisa smiles mockingly. "Can't help it. Taylor!"
"Yes?"
"We have another crisis. Armored chamber, lower levels. That eldritch thing, Noelle—she's a disaster on par with the Slaughterhouse Nine, the Simurgh, or the Blasphemies. But she can be reasoned with. Shame you fell out with Panacea…"
"Another crisis? Of course…" I sigh. "Noelle. She's from the Travelers, right?"
"Yes. The deal with them was, we'd look for some cure, fix her form. Command's changed. These obligations are on us now. Along with Faultline's crew. Accord. The agreements with Alexandria."
"What?! Mr. Calvert—explain."
"In the interest of order and prosperity in a single city, I've made arrangements with certain organizations," Coil admits. "Alexandria—"
"Rebecca Costa-Brown," Lisa adds.
"—who is also deputy chief director of the PRT," he nods, "offered limited cooperation to integrate capes into government and municipal frameworks. The goal is to set up a platform for a social experiment that, if successful, can be used to promote anti-parahuman bigotry's eradication at every level. The 'Bug in the Anthill' project has been running for five years, and—"
"This is insane," I say. "Peak-level conspiracy stuff. Alexandria is really at the top of the PRT? She's in two roles at once? And they're running a secret social experiment with a whole city? No, I need to go back to school—back to when I was just an ordinary student. My locker was so warm. So cozy."