AN: This will be updated once a month. This is written in Volumes, each contains 7 issues, or chapters. First Volume is Santana, Second is Charlie, Third is Quinn, then Charlie. It'll make more sense once more Issues come out. Once a month, probably the first weekend of the month but if I'm lazy it'll come out sometime within the month. First Four Volumes are available already.

Song: Hellfire

Volume One: Issue One: Begging for A Thread

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Santana glances down at her phone and back up at the building for a final time, frowning. She's glad for the cover of night, her customized superhero outfit providing her with the camouflage she desperately needs for this. This company might as well be Fort Knox for all the security that was surrounding the main office. She's spent weeks researching Charlie's schedule, called in as many favors as she can. The entire hero community thinks she's just another hero in a long list that's trying to bring in villainous Charlie Fabray. She wished it was that simple.

She still wasn't positive that this was a good idea. As if reading her mind, her wife's face pops up as an incoming call. She sighs and swipes to answer it quickly. "Hey."

'You aren't having second thoughts, are you?' Quinn's accusation is hard and Santana pinches her brow as she imagines her wheelchair-bound wife waiting for her to screw this up too. Everything has been different since Quinn's accident and the bone-crushing guilt weighed heavily on her.

"No." Santana denies quickly, snapping her mask into place. "Did you take your painkillers?" Santana asks without really thinking.

'I'm still a hero.' Quinn snaps quickly and Santana curses herself for starting the familiar argument. 'It's not like those pills do anything for me anyway.'

Santana winces and tries to think of the right thing to say. Ever since the accident Quinn's been emotional as fuck and Santana often doesn't do well at navigating that minefield. "That's why we're doing this, she's probably the smartest person in the world. She could probably come up with something that could make you walk again." She reminds her wife, "But I need you to be patient."

Quinn sighs audibly. 'I know. I'm sorry I'm being a bitch. I'm just stressed out.'

Santana smirks. "You? A bitch? Never."

Quinn laughs at the sarcasm and Santana decides she's going to take that for the win. 'It's just—I'm worried. She might be the smartest person in the world but that also makes her the most dangerous person in the world. It's like an open secret in the community that she's the greatest threat to humanity. It doesn't matter how many times people drag her to jail she always gets off. Going on the offensive may not be the smartest of ideas.'

"I tried to do it the legal way, I tried to get a meeting with her. I did everything I could think of, called her office, and wrote her an actual letter. I got one of those automated responses back and a signed picture, which she probably didn't even sign herself." Santana takes a breath, calming herself down. "Look, I might get slapped with a fine or something, but all I need is ten minutes of her time."

'And when she says no?'

"Who said I was going to let her say no?" Santana smirks when she hears Quinn's snort of amusement. "Okay, I should get going. I'll call you when it's over."

'Be safe.' Quinn cautions before Santana ends the call.

Santana exhales, wishing that it was summer, these shorter days were not good for her abilities. She couldn't store nearly as much energy as she normally did. But even with the shorter days, she was sure she still had enough juice left to lay waste Prometheus Enterprises corporate headquarters. She cracks her knuckles once before leaving the alleyway. No one seemed to notice her as she headed straight for the building, costumed heroes were simply a part of every-day life now. She stops at the entrance and pushes the door open after taking a breath, mentally preparing herself for the stares and the gawking. It was one thing to see a masked hero outside, it was something completely different going into a fancy building dressed like she was. But once again she was taken aback by how little people seemed to care. No one was gawking at her, in fact except from a few looks as people exited the building no one seemed to notice her.

It probably had to do with the CEO's penchant for collecting street-level super-thugs as her grunts though. It was part of the reason the entire super-hero community was after her. Apparently Prometheus Enterprises was big on rehabilitation. Most people in the community thought it was a load of shit, a clever ploy to build up power with the appearance of doing good, and the politicians loved it. Crime was down, and it was less expensive than holding these low level super-thugs.

At least Prometheus gave off the air of being just another tech conglomerate. There were a couple of security guards manning the metal detectors and X-ray machines. It was clearly for the guests of the building as it seemed that everyone else had their own pass that let them breeze past security. She was tempted to go through those entrances but if she could avoid getting into a fight it would be better. She heads over to the guest security clearance area and taps the metal desk once to get the attention of the security guard.

"Please take off your mask and remove any change from your pockets." The burly man at the security desk informs her barely glancing at her. He was most definitely bored.

"Yeah. That's not going to happen."

"Then please fill out form 482-B." He gestured toward a stack of papers beside him.

Santana stared at the rent-a-cop. "You've got to be kidding me." She's torn between actually filling out the paperwork and just barreling her way to her goal. But since it was dark, it would be smart to maintain her energy reserves for a sustained extended fight. She picks up a pen and angrily fills out the minimum required information. "There. Happy?"

"Please proceed to the metal detector and remove any keys, coins, or other items from your pockets."

"Does it look like I have pockets?"

The man finally looks up and sneers at her, "You're a superhero? You look a bit small to be one," he sniffed leering at her chest.

Santana's jaw dropped and for a moment she stares at him in shock before her hand moves as if it's possessed and her fist slams into his face. She grins at the sound of cartilage crunching as the man flies off his chair and skids across the ground. "Want to say that again to my face?" She demands angrily.

"You fubbin—bitch! You brobe my nothe!" The man swore loudly and almost immediately a siren goes off.

Santana glances up at one of the security cameras, "Oh for fuck's sake! He started it!" She snaps, twisting her body out of the way as the nearest rent-a-cop pulls out what appears to be a gun. The last thing she needed was to get shot again. Quinn would simply start an argument about it and they'd fight about it for days. "Alright, so we're doing this the hard way." Santana sighs her hands lighting up with an orange-red glow. She needs to put a stop to this before it gets out of hand and she flicks her wrist, sending an orange glowing orb flying in the direction of the man's gun.

Five men in SWAT gear flood the lobby and Santana rolls her eyes. "Seriously?" She shakes her head. It takes just a minute for her to start firing multiple glowing orbs at the impending threat, taking each goon out one by one. She manages to dodge someone throwing a punch to take her out and she slams her foot into the back of his knee caps as his own momentum knocks him off balance. Vaulting over the man, she lands a firm kick to a member of the SWAT team that had managed to get up. This was not going well at all. She could already hear people running and screaming and trying to get away. So much for doing this peacefully. She was definitely going to get a fine for this and maybe another strike. "Will you stay down?" She snaps flicking another blast at the man, watching as it exploded sending him flying.

"Get her!"

Santana turned, swearing under her breath as more rent-a-cops began to swarm her. "Fuck," she mutters, as she begins to duck and weave moving her body so she can launch her energy projectiles and still throw punches and kicks, sending men flying. She winces when someone grabs her shoulder roughly and immediately shifts her hips as she grabs his arm and sends him flying, the man crashes into the ground hard and she brings her boot down against his face. There's only guy left and even with the carnage surrounding him, he doesn't seem to be the last bit scared. It was troubling, maybe mind control? A hive mind of sorts?

Santana shifts slowly, she can vaguely hear the ding of the elevators but she personally doesn't care. She can feel the adrenaline pumping through her system. She fires off another round of energy orbs at the last man standing and smirks triumphantly when he runs for cover. That was more like it. "Now—" She's cut short by a firm tapping on her shoulder and spins around to figure out where the hell that came from. "—Charlie?"

"Hi Santana." Her wife's identical twin smirks back at her, coldly assessing the damage done to her office lobby. "Two things. I see you took my advice when it came to designing your costume and got rid of the stupid cape. And two, I'm guessing that the autographed headshot was not what you were looking for when you wrote to me?"

"Fuck you. Do you have any idea the lengths I had to go to just to get five minutes of your time?" Santana snaps. She's annoyed that she had to go to such crazy lengths in order to talk to her sister-in-law. Her sister-in-law who was no longer paying attention to her and had turned her attention to one of the rent-a-cops that she had hired. "Are you fucking kidding me—" Santana snaps reaching to grab onto Charlie's shoulder.

Charlie's reaction was swift her hand slamming upwards, a loud crack was heard as Santana went flying. She's vaguely aware of the sound of breaking glass, "Someone call in the medical team immediately," Charlie snapped at one of the secretaries who immediately picked up a phone and started to place the call. Charlie immediately drops to her knee so she can get a better look. "Don't worry Brett, you're going to get the best care available." Charlie promises trying her hardest not to grimace. Spinal injury, with at least three—no four broken ribs. He would quite probably never be cleared for this line of work again, but she could find something else for him. "You just focus on getting better Brett, and don't worry about the money. You're part of the Prometheus family."

Santana stumbles to her feet, stunned. What the fuck just happened? Charlie was quite literally a super genius that sometimes was able to generate a spark—though she had never quite believed that was anything less than static electricity. But Charlie definitely didn't have super strength. "What the fuck?" She mumbles feeling a sharp pain in her jaw. She truly hoped that Charlie hadn't broken it as she kicks some of the broken glass away and marches back into the building through the shattered window pane.

Kurt sighed as he left the elevator approaching Charlie who was quickly directing their own staff medical team to deal with Brett. As Charlie's personal assistant it was his job to basically manage every aspect of her life. As her assistant it meant he was privy to all sorts of information and even though he didn't understand the science behind most of what went on, he did have a working memory of every project that Charlie was personally involved in. "Ms. Fabray, you know the Aegis isn't ready for a test run and that is the only prototype that we have!"

"Well it's a good thing it's a working prototype, isn't it?" Charlie drawls glancing down at her left arm. She had the best and the brightest working for Prometheus, and they still hadn't managed to get the Aegis fully operational even though it had been in development for over two years now. It had been the very first project she had worked on before running the company had taken her out of research and development. She was the face behind Prometheus, she was the visionary and that meant dealing with people she'd rather ignore. Greedy politicians who she had to wine and dine to make sure that that she dealt with all the red tape. She loathed the red tape. But it seemed that delegating was not the right thing to do in this instance. The Aegis was supposed to act as a second skin. A bulletproof, reactive skin, but it was slow and the user extended very little control over the technology. The Aegis was already behind schedule and the military was not known for its patience. They might end up losing the contract.

Kurt rolled his eyes and went back to looking at his tablet, "Well, the helicopter is waiting for you on the helipad. You're supposed to be having dinner with the French ambassador tonight and you're going to be late."

"I thought I had that fundraiser to attend." Charlie frowned. It was always so hard to keep track of her schedule. "I assume that I have a change of clothes somewhere?"

"Of course. Upstairs in your office, I'll have it brought to the helipad." Kurt taps his tablet and looks at his boss watching as she blinked once. "I believe he wants to talk to you about your international expansion. Even though I'm aware you were doodling some new designs during the last board meeting, you know the EU has been courting Prometheus business and they want to talk about new security measures."

Charlie turns to walk toward the elevator so she can get to her helipad, trying not to audibly groan. It was unbecoming for the CEO and President of the largest technology conglomerate in the world to groan at the idea of boring ass meetings, so she'd hold her tongue.

At being so readily dismissed, Santana grit her teeth tightly. "Where do you think you're going?" She steps around the glass squaring her shoulders as she marches towards Charlie.

"To France, apparently." Charlie responds.

"To the French Embassy," Kurt corrects.

"Which is basically France."

"By the way, the detainment squad is already coming to pick her up," Kurt nods towards Santana.

"Don't bother. She'll see herself out."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not fucking here!" Santana snaps her hands starting to flicker as her anger began to boil over. She hadn't come here to fight, not physically. Charlie had built Prometheus Enterprises into one of the biggest tech companies in the world in a few short years. They did everything, from research and development of weapons, pharmaceuticals, robotics, computer hardware and software, bio engineering, and many other fields. But what she was really after was their medical research program. She had seen the commercials of wounded vets and children getting robotic limbs that worked very much like their old ones. The medical branch of Prometheus was revolutionizing medicine but getting Quinn into one of those programs had been near impossible.

Charlie stepped into the elevator and turned to look at Santana. "You have until I get to the helipad. So I suggest that you learn to speak fast."

Santana immediately lunges as the doors of the elevator begin to close. She hears a snort from Charlie's assistant, she hadn't even noticed him entering the elevator. "Very graceful," he snorts rolling his eyes.

Santana glared at him and opens her mouth to rip into him when Charlie clears her throat. "You're wasting time Santana, get on with it."

Santana tilts her head to Charlie and shifts so she's standing straight. "It's about Quinn. I don't know if you heard but she was hurt—"

"I know." Charlie comments, upon seeing the look on Santana's face she shrugs her shoulders. "I may need a new kidney one day. I keep tabs on her. What does any of this have to do with you attacking my security?"

Santana opens her mouth and closes it again at a complete loss for words. "He started it."

"What'd he do? If it's anything less insulting than him asking you if you'd had breast augmentation, then I don't see the relevance."

Santana clamped her mouth shut for a second, she wasn't going to dignify that with a response. "Look, I'm here about Quinn. Prometheus is on the bleeding edge of medical research and development and more importantly technology in general. Surely there are some strings you can pull to get her into a program that deals with spinal injuries, you know one of those experimental programs. Our insurance is good, but it's not that good."

"We at Prometheus see healthcare as an inalienable right," Kurt responded immediately toeing the company policy.

"Kurt." Charlie stresses his name and watches as he immediately goes back to his tablet. Charlie pushes a button on the Aegis watching as it begins to retract from her skin. "It doesn't work like that. Look, I'm sorry that you've wasted everyone's time and that you put a man in the hospital for nothing. However I can put in a good word for you at Pierce Industries."

Kurt frowned and leaned in to remind his boss that, she couldn't simply call Brittany up anymore. Not only was the SEC breathing down their necks, the shareholders were uncomfortable with such displays of impropriety. "Brittany's not taking your calls remember? You forgot her birthday."

"Right. Yeah, never mind she's still upset with me. Nothing I can do." Charlie frowns and turns to look at Kurt. "Be sure to send her some more duck-shaped chocolates. I know she really liked those the last time. Also make sure it says I'm sorry; in a semi-fun font."

This meeting was not going how she envisioned but she had promised her wife that she wouldn't let Charlie wiggle her way out of this. "She's your twin."

"And I care 'deeply', but I've seen her medical records and most of her internal organs are fine. She did lose her spleen though, good thing that's not commonly transplanted." Charlie shrugs studying Santana. "Quinn's in a wheelchair. It is not the end of the world. It's certainly not a valid reason to come to my offices and cause a scene and cost my company millions because once again our insurance premiums just went up." It was the sudden spike in room temperature that caused Charlie to focus on Santana for more than two seconds. "Even if I wanted too, Quinn is my identical twin sister. No one in my company is stupid enough to put Quinn on their operating table because they probably have the mistaken belief that I will be pissed if anything goes wrong. I mean I will be irritated sure, I'll have to investing in cloning or—" Charlie pauses for a moment and turns to Kurt. "Organ printing. It could solve the organ donation shortage and close the black market for it."

"Brilliant ma'am." Kurt said immediately writing that down. He was used to this, Charlie thought big all the time, she had ideas and more importantly unlike other CEOs if he gave her a month or two she'd come up with a working design, or she'd have come up with some new technology that moved everyone forward a few steps. The real problem that most people faced wasn't that they didn't have big ideas it was simply that technology hadn't quite caught up with their ideas. Charlie's brain found solutions. It was how she had earned her first billion, using the patent system.

"So you aren't going to help?" Santana couldn't believe it. Charlie was Quinn's last chance.

"Help with what exactly? She's in a wheelchair. It's not like she's on life support. It is not the end of the world and I read her medical reports, there is a real possibility that my sister will be able to walk again. She might need a cane for the rest of her life but there's that possibility."

"She's lost her career—"

"Not. My. Problem."

"She's a fucking superhero. You honestly won't do anything to help her?"

"You mean like she ever helped me?" Charlie sneers, smirking when Santana looks away unable to meet her gaze. It's petty and childish but she's done worrying about her 'super' family. She shakes her head, the last thing that she wants to do is worry about Quinn. "Look, I can't help you."

"Charlie—"

Her name from Santana's lips only makes Charlie's resolve harden. "Even if I wanted to—even if I had the slightest inclination to help you— I wouldn't." The elevator dings and Charlie glances at the doors. "Now if you'll excuse me your time is up. I have a meeting with the French Ambassador. Do you think they'll serve those little fancy finger foods? Say what you want about the French, but they certainly do have some of the best cuisine in the world."

"Well, they didn't send me over the menu for tonight so I can't be sure, but I do suspect that they will be wining and dining you," Kurt informed her stepping off the elevator, in step with his boss.

"Hmm, well hopefully they serve good wine. Do I have a plus one tonight? Perhaps that Russian—model? You know the flexible one that was a gymnast."

"She accepted your invitation and I sent over an appropriate—"

Santana clenched her teeth and tightened her fists as she swallowed down any of her pride. She was doing this because of her wife. She should have been there by Quinn's side that night. They were supposed to be a team, but now it was all fucked up. She had promised that she'd get Charlie to help and yet she was failing at that as well. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Charlie stops and turns to look back at Santana raising a brow. "Excuse me?"

"I'll do whatever it takes. That's what you do, isn't it? How you keep all those thugs on your payroll. You find a weakness and exploit it for your own personal gain? How many other people have been in my shoes?"

"Well that's certainly one way of looking at it," Charlie muses studying Santana.

"Ma'am."

"Not now Kurt, you heard her. She'll do anything," Charlie drawls a slow smirk crossing her face. "Anything?"

"Within reason." Santana amends. "I'm not going to kill anyone for you."

Charlie waves away the condition, her smirk broadening. "I'm filthy rich, I can hire a professional to make it look like an accident—"

"Ma'am." Kurt stresses.

Charlie ignores him taking a step closer to Santana. "So the real question is what you can do for me that I can't pay someone else for?" She taps her chin thoughtfully, enjoying the way that Santana is trying not to squirm under Charlie's gaze. Charlie's eyes harden. "Could you really do it? Be nothing more than my whore so that your broken wife can once again have someone save her from her own consequences?"

Santana grits her teeth. She's doing this for Quinn and if it means taking a hit to her pride, then she can do it. "I won't be your whore, but—"

"Then what good are you?" Charlie rolls her eyes. She turns back to Kurt. "So about Tatiana, she will be wearing something stunning right?" Charlie presses.

"Of course, and I assure you that there will be easy access as well." Kurt answers the question that Charlie hadn't asked.

"You're disgusting." Santana snaps, unable to stop herself.

"And your only hope." Charlie taunts before turning and beginning to walk back to her office so she can grab her change of clothes. "But if you change your mind, feel free to schedule an appointment with Kurt and not show up and start punching things like a child throwing a tantrum."

Santana feels her frustration and rage start to get the better of her, barely aware of the elevator heating around her like a furnace. Everything was riding on this meeting going well and it just hadn't. She blows out a breath of frustration and grits her teeth. "Charlie, wait—"

Charlie spins on her heel, surprised. She had thought that would be the end but maybe Santana was more desperate than she had expected. "Oh my, this is more interesting than I—" Charlie's not able to finish her sentence before Santana punches her hard and fast, sending Charlie flying across the room and skidding to a stop at the opposite wall.

"Fuck you." Santana jams her finger on the elevator button to close the door and send her down to the lobby.

Charlie cracks her neck and accepts Kurt's hand as he tries to help her up. Aegis apparently doesn't have the defensive capabilities that she had anticipated and that's definitely going to have to be tweaked before she lets the military dispense it as their newest and greatest toy.

"Please tell me that's the last we see of her." Kurt grumbles.

Charlie chuckles and rubs her cheek. There would probably be a massive bruise by tomorrow. "Sure." She shrugs, pretty sure that is a lie anyway. Whatever. Santana would be back, she was sure of it.

~O~

Quinn isn't waiting at the door when Santana comes home, and she's not sure if she should be pissed about that or relieved that she doesn't have to relive her epic failure seconds after stepping through the door. Santana shrugs off the hoodie that kept her neighbors from fully seeing her uniform and itches to get herself out of the threads that normally make her feel powerful. Tonight, all it does is make her feel like a failure.

She glances around the room, frowning as she thinks of how much everything has changed in the last year. Wheelchair accessible ramps and relocated furniture to accommodate Quinn's new limitations are the most superficial changes, but hardly the most important.

She just wants to turn back the clock and get her life back—get her wife back—and then instantly feels guilty. Because as hard as it is for Santana to deal with the changes, it has to be harder for Quinn. She just doesn't know what the fuck she's supposed to do anymore. Every day seems to pull them further and further from the life they had planned toward some bitter old couple that snapped at one another for the smallest indiscretions.

There was a time they had been happy and she knew she wasn't the only one feeling this strain. Quinn looked at her with dull, almost dead, eyes and it made Santana feel almost overwhelmed with guilt.

"How'd it go?" Quinn's voice queries from the dining room and Santana forces her feet to move toward the sound.

She's defeated. Broken. But she can't let Quinn see that. "I think it really might work." She says with false hope, biting her lip as she stays out of sight. Maybe if Quinn doesn't see her then she won't be able to detect the lie.

But Quinn is no fool. She quirks a brow and wheels herself to face Santana. "Liar."

Santana deflates but makes no move to try to continue the lie. "Fuck her. We'll find something else—someone else if we have to. I'm sure—"

"She was my last chance, Santana, don't you get that?"

"Of course I get that. I may not be some genius like her but I'm no moron." Santana snaps. She's exhausted and emotionally spent and definitely taking out on the wrong person, but she's a superhero not a saint.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Quinn muses, mostly talking to herself.

"Quinn—"

"No, she didn't even show up to her wedding—she threw a press conference during the ceremony! And fine maybe she's busy trying to take over the world or whatever evil plan she has but she didn't even send a gift to the reception. I was in the hospital for weeks and where was she? She didn't visit me once, she probably didn't even know that I was in the hospital. No flowers, no card, not even a phone-call."

"She did," Santana squeezes in when Quinn takes a breath. "She was aware that you were in a condition, I think she may have gotten into your medical records. So she probably does care."

"And she still said no?"

"She's still a bitch. That at least hasn't changed. But if we give her a few days to think it over, maybe she'll change her mind?" It was a fool's hope but it was really all she had at this point. Charlie had been different growing up. Maybe the person she still knew was in there.

Quinn swallows, "Yeah, maybe. Maybe we should see if we can get into another one of the experimental programs. Maybe in another city? Someone somewhere has to be doing trials. I know Pierce industries is a possibility. If she doesn't want to help she could put in a good word for us right?"

Santana smiles, not wanting Quinn to know that Charlie probably couldn't help on that front either. "We can ask, she might be more inclined to help us that way. She did mention Pierce industries, and I think she knows their CEO—intimately. So who knows?"

But the chance at sparking hope at some sort of change has dimmed. "Sure." Quinn doesn't even pretend to believe that it will turn out any different. "I think, I'm just going to head to bed? It's been a long day."

Santana nods and glances at the table where Quinn was clearly pouring over their finances. She feels sick at the thought, yet another failure in her growing list. It hadn't been easy to pay for the changes that needed to be in place to pay for Quinn's surgeries and accommodations. Then there were the medical bills that they still needed to pay. She hadn't been able to work nearly as much due to the fact that she needed to make sure that Quinn was okay. Maybe it would have been easier to ask Charlie for money. She was a billionaire, she already had more money than she probably knew what to do with. She swallows, she needed to get a better job.

~O~

Santana checked the address once more on her GPS before fixing her hood and continuing to walk towards one of Charlie's many mansions. From what she could find, this was one of her favorites and according to her social media profile she spent her weekends at this mansion rather than at her penthouse in the city. Still to say that it was a gated community was pushing it, the people who lived here had their own private security force and she was sure there were super's on the payroll to protect them.

She had once again tried to get in the legal way, but without a visitor's pass, and the fact that she drove a relatively inexpensive car, she had been rejected. She was tired of getting rejected like this. Being turned away because she didn't have more money than she knew what to do with. It wasn't even her fault, they had needed to sell the car to get something more reasonable for Quinn and used the extra money to help fix up the house.

They needed the money, and more importantly she needed to get Quinn healthy again. She wanted her wife to walk. Even though Quinn was a relative pain in her ass, she loved her more than anything and if doing this meant that Quinn would walk again, then she was willing to risk her marriage on it. It was better to ask for forgiveness then to ask permission. But that didn't mean she was just going to try and get out of it. She wasn't going to be easy.

She exhaled a bit, enjoying the sun on her skin as she finally made it past the tennis courts and various other buildings on Charlie's sprawling property and frowned, she was closing in on the gaudy looking building that Charlie called a home. She had probably gotten some fancy architect to build it.

She finally reaches what she assumes is the front door and frowns, momentarily at a loss for what exactly she should do. Should she knock? Or barge in without any sort of announcement? Biting her lip, she finally decides on ringing the doorbell less she look any more like an asshole. She needs this to go well and she might as well try to be polite first. She presses her finger down on the buzzer, waiting for any sort of reply. She glances through one of the windows on the side of the doors to see if anyone was coming. She sighs and presses the bell again, it was a huge house she just needed to be patient. Charlie was obviously inside, there was a fancy sports car parked relatively closeby. From what she could see, from where she was standing peeking through the decorative glass that surrounded the doorway there was clothing strewn across the floor, like someone or people had been in a hurry to undress.

She's never been one to really think things like this through and reacts before she can stop herself, yanking the door open with a force that sends the hinges flying and shattering the decorative glass. She tosses the door, smirking when it lands on the sports car, with enough force to shatter the windshield. She smirks and steps in, she wasn't going to be ignored anymore. She glances around for a moment, before noting that there were lights on in a room and immediately starts there. It only takes her a moment to realize that she's now in the kitchen.

Charlie looks up, not looking the least bit surprised. "Is this your great descent into super villainy? You aren't exactly good at it." She's got an expensive robe draped around her and a cereal bowl in her hands as she studies important looking documents.

"Hardly. I rang the bell."

"I know. I was ignoring you. I knew you were coming when you tripped my sensor alarm two miles back. Breaking and entering is still a crime." Charlie takes another bite of her cereal before turning to look at Santana. "You're rather dressed up. Big night? Going dancing with the wife—oh wait." Charlie laughs at her own joke, holding a hand up before Santana punched her again. She still had the bruise from last time. "I'm joking. Too soon? Probably. But you did break into my house and I've seen your finances, I know you can't afford to pay for the damage that you just caused. So the question is why are you here?"

"I'm here to get you to act like a decent human being."

"Not interested." Charlie shrugs. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out—I guess that's harder since you destroyed it, but—"

"I was hoping we could work something out."

"So you thought you would break into my home? That's an interesting tactic. I hope you'll forgive me if I don't use that in any more important negotiations."

"Look. I won't be your whore and I won't kill for you."

Charlie raises her brow. "Forgive me, but this conversation is getting boring really quickly."

"But maybe I can give you a heads up when another hero is taking a run at you." Santana's not sure what she expects Charlie's response to be, but it's definitely not laughter. "What the fuck is so funny?"

"I have lawyers who bill me more hourly than you make in a year, but besides that I don't do anything illegal. Unethical maybe, morally questionable sure. But not illegal."

"You want to take over the world." Santana shakes her head disbelievingly.

"Point to the law that says taking over the world is illegal." Charlie scoffs. "It's not so much about having power as how you get it and what you do with it when you have it."

"Semantics." Santana dismisses. "But you know that there are going to be hundreds of super-heroes trying to take you down. You think one of them isn't going to find something that looks questionable? That's going to get you into deep shit?"

"Santana, I'm the CEO of Prometheus Enterprises. I make more money a minute then most people see in their lifetimes. I had dinner with the President last week. Politicians come to me and kiss my ring so I donate to their 'Super Pacs', in what is basically just legalized bribery. I'm sure there is something that my company does that may not be above board. We'll take a fine, but it certainly won't be criminal. So let each superhero attempt to take me down. It just bolsters my case of harassment and malicious prosecution that my lawyers are working on. By the way if you keep this up you'll be named as a defendant in the class action suit I'm compiling, so you may want to get your own counsel."

Santana's mouth went dry there was no way that she could afford that, not right now. Not with Quinn and the bills already. "You've seen our finances—"

"Yes, and? I like having nice things. It doesn't matter if I have money, I work hard for it, that doesn't give you or any other hero the right to break my stuff because you think I'm some super villain who has a death ray in my basement." Charlie sniffed indignantly before looking back at her documents and pouring herself some more cereal, making a mental note to make a death ray whatever that entailed later. "So if you're not going to kill for me, which by the way in case you're wearing a wire, I wasn't being serious, and you've got nothing of value to actually offer me. I guess we're back to my original suggestion which is you being my whore. I mean you're rather dressed up. I mean if we're being completely honest, you're wearing far too much clothing to be my whore. Also, I imagine that the woman I brought home last night might not be thrilled at your company. Then again, she might. It's very hard to tell sometimes."

"I'm not going to be your whore."

"Then why are you here?" Charlie presses. She knows what desperation smells like and Santana reeks of it. "Why are you dressed up if you were just coming here to not be my whore?" Charlie finishes her cereal and brings the bowl to her lips drinking the rest of the milk before placing it down and wiping her lips. She had seen their finances, they were so deeply in debt. If Santana wasn't here to demand that she fix Quinn, then the only other thing that she could possibly want was money.

Santana stared at Charlie, wishing that she had underestimated her. Wishing that she hadn't made the decision before she came to simply get it over with. Wishing that the situation wasn't so desperate. She wanted to try and barter but she was out of options, she didn't have anything that Charlie wanted except for her body and it was better to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. "One night."

Charlie studies Santana for a moment before smirking at her and leaning forward. "My guest, will just simply have to deal with it then won't she?" Charlie leans back adjusting her body so that she can get a good look at Santana giving her former friend her undivided attention. "Well then? What are you waiting for? Get on your knees."