Charlie cracked her neck as she pushed her way through the large oak doors that been shut during the entire duration of this 'secret' hearing. Though she knew the moment that she left the building she would be swarmed by reporters. Someone had leaked it to the press who had been there trying to get her to say a few words. The world wasn't used to her ignoring the media like this. She exhales as she flips her new cane in the air and catching it. It definitely makes her fit into the evil super villain club, especially the sound of the metal cane hitting the tiles. All she needs is a monocle, or maybe an eye-patch. She keeps walking past Santana, thinking for a second that she just might be able to slip past her. These past few days had been odd between them it was like Santana was attempting to be her friend or something equally as ridiculous. Personally she was sure Santana thought she was on some dangerous edge into becoming a supervillain.

"How'd it go?" Santana asks, sliding up beside her. Apparently no matter how much Santana hated working for her, she's still right there by her side.

"As well as you can expect I imagine," Charlie responds reaching up to fix her collar and then her cuffs, pulling out a pair of dark aviator glasses. "I've been to hundreds of these things and it's always been the same thing. Far too much politics, ignoring scientific consensus. You know one of the members of congress tried to question my credentials once."

Santana glanced at Charlie, Kurt was generally by her side during these meetings but he had fallen out of favor, much to his annoyance. Charlie was going about her business without consulting him. "Really? How badly did you roast him?"

Charlie shrugged, "I didn't. I just smiled and moved on trying to get my point across. I did however make sure that he had zero support when it came time for reelection. No one wanted to work with him, all his staffers quit, a few of his questionable activities were leaked to the media. An FBI investigation led to an indictment, and he's currently still in prison for corruption charges."

Santana's jaw dropped, and she nearly tripped as she turned to look at Charlie. It was the general callousness and the ease that Charlie had expressed that caught her off guard. After half a second, she shook her head. "And you say you're not a villain." She nudged Charlie lightly to show she was only joking.

"Toeing the line of moral ambiguity makes for a better story anyway." Charlie responded with ease stopping in front of the exit. "Well, time to earn your paycheck. Try not to smack anyone in the face."

Santana blinked and rolled her eyes before pushing open the door for Charlie, she had thought Charlie had looked stupid in the glasses but she suddenly understands why she's wearing them as the light's from various camera's begin to flash. "Easy for you to say," Santana grumbles spotting a limo parked on the street. Kurt was waving at her and she sighs, it seemed a long way to the car. She immediately moves following Charlie who was walking down the steps ignoring the media. She shifts and begins to immediately push some of the media away so Charlie could walk down, at least it was something.

The questions pepper them as Santana pushes through with Charlie following protectively. "Ms. Fabray—"

"What was the meeting about?"

"Is it true that Prometheus is already back to work?"

"How are you healing?"

"Are your injuries just a PR stunt?"

"Is it true that this entire registration is just some vendetta because you're jealous?"

Charlie stops walking and even though she can feel Santana tugging on her arm she turns to the reporter and points to him with her cane. "What did you say?"

The area goes deathly silent, as the reporter who spoke up steps forward a bit, "Is it true that this entire registration is just some vendetta because you're jealous?"

Charlie smiles at the reporter and shifts her cane in her hand for a bit, debating whether if she should practice her swing using his face as a ball, but that would probably be a terrible idea. She taps her fingers on the top of her cane, "If I were a super, I might have hit you first and apologized later, but no. It's not because I'm jealous."

"Ma'am, we've got—" Kurt stressed from where he was standing looking at Santana.

"Yes, I know. We've got places to be. But I want to make it absolutely clear, that it's irresponsible journalism to push that narrative. Not only because it isn't true, but because it dismisses the problem at hand. What should matter to people is that our citizens are safe, that we hold all super's accountable just like we hold our police departments. The days of vigilantism are over, the days of hiding your face are over. There needs to be rules and regulations and more importantly every enhanced person who wants to be a hero needs to be trained. No more brawls on Main Street. We need to start minimizing civilian casualties, not to mention the billions of dollar of property damage each year that eats into the budget. That money should be going to your children's education, better healthcare, better roads and what have you. Now if you'll excuse me, as my assistant is about to have a coronary, it's time for me to go."

"Charlie—"

"Ms. Fabray, what about—"

"No more questions." Santana looks at the reporters pointedly and practically shoves Charlie in the car.

"Was that necessary?" Charlie asks with an irritated sniff as Santana entered the car.

"Yes," Kurt jumps in immediately, it forces Charlie to look at him but it's only for a second before she's looking out the window again. He still hadn't managed to get himself back in her good graces. "Ma'am, I understand that you wish to do an interview with Quinn on your terms, but the current PR department thinks that will only add fuel to the fire—"

"What I know, is that people are still questioning me about that stupid op-ed piece. What I understand is that they haven't let this go Kurt. What I also know is that since I haven't had any sort of response, Quinn is the only person pumping out new information and I will be damned if she lets anyone else get hurt with her 'noble intentions'."

"The house is moving forward with your recommendations—as far as anyone is concerned you won. I'm asking you not to roll around in the mud with your sister, because even if you come out the winner, you're still covered in mud. Something—anything she says might stick," Kurt argues. "You still have aspirations for the White House."

"You really do want to take over the world don't you?" Santana asks turning to Charlie.

"Well, for at least four years. It's probably a good thing that they introduced term limits," Charlie taps the top of her cane again. "But, I need this to be over. So after we get back to the city, I want you to book a ride to the cesspit that is Quinn's company."

Santana cringed. She knew that eventually she would probably tag along for Charlie's interview with Quinn. But really, she had been intending to call in sick that day. "Are you sure you don't want Kurt to do it? I—"

"I'd be happy to schedule that—" Kurt jumped in.

Charlie glares at them both, effectively cutting Kurt off. "I know you don't want to see her, but I need to throw her off her game."

"So you're using me." Santana surmises. She's not sure if that makes it better or worse, but she'd really prefer to never see Quinn again.

Charlie shrugs. It's what good leaders do, and she'd be a fool not to use every weapon at her disposal. "You don't have to say anything to her. But I would feel more comfortable with you there, I'd rather not have Quinn attempting to murder me. You're my bodyguard so it's your job to guard my body."

Santana frowns, she hated it when Charlie had a point. There was a very good chance this meeting would end in violence just like any other episode of Jerry Springer and she wasn't going to let that happen. "I never signed up to babysit the two of you. I'm going to request hazard pay for this."

Charlie rolled her eyes, of course Santana would ask for hazard pay. "Whatever."

"Also, because you're dying to use it on somebody I'm going to have to confiscate your 'pimp' cane." Santana adds after a moment.

"Her pimp cane?" Charlie could not publically call her cane that, it would be a PR nightmare that made this look like a cake walk. Especially given Charlie's reputation when it came to women.

"Brittany stopped by the lab and decided to name it." Santana explains with a shake of her head. "She weaponized it, and I don't know exactly what she did to it. But better to be safe than sorry."

"Fine, whatever." They were worse than—she would say her parents but that didn't quite seem right. Her parents simply hadn't cared whether she played with weapons of mass destruction or not. They certainly wouldn't blink at this cane.

~O~

Quinn poked at her lunch half-heartedly as she looks over her next op-ed. The fallout from her first article had been astounding and she had every intention of riding the popularity into her next article. Everything she did from here on out had to be flawless because it was only a matter of time before Charlie made her next move.

Which wasn't to say that her twin hadn't made moves, every public appearance that Charlie had made recently had pushed the media into a frenzy. Everyone wanted a response, everyone needed to hear from her. But each public appearance, every single time Charlie stepped out there was a clear message. Because it would only be a few moments before she got a glimpse of her ex-wife. Charlie was taunting her. And the worst part about it was that Santana either didn't get it, or she was a willing participant.

Quinn sighs inwardly and is about to take a bite out of her sandwich when the door to her office bursts open and she drops the sandwich in surprise, "Shit—haven't you ever heard of—" She swallows when she notices her boss gasping for air.

"She's here. We've got an hour, just an hour. I've already put the tech guys to work getting the conference room tidy, if we hurry that's a good half an hour interview." He gasped looking at Quinn. "You—god dammit I need to get to the gym—you need to get ready. Hair and makeup, you need to go now."

"She?" Quinn presses, even though she knows the answer to that question. It was just like Charlie to show up unannounced and start making demands. Though she was a tiny bit impressed at how easily Charlie had turned the tide. She wasn't mentally prepared for an interview, and they couldn't tell Charlie to come back later because her twin simply wouldn't come back and she would easily change the narrative.

"Your twin—god damn was she imposing. Look please tell me you're ready for this interview. It's the interview of your life, other reporters would kill for this opportunity. So trust me when I say that this could make or break your career Quinn, and judging from the look on her face, she wants to break you. So you've got to be able to hold your own."

Quinn winced, she most definitely wasn't ready for this interview, "I am." She lies, as she wheels herself around her desk. She wasn't that unprepared, she had questions of course and more importantly she knew how to get under Charlie's skin, but at the same time she wasn't mentally prepared to defend against Charlie's attempts to get under her skin. She had been spending nearly every waking moment thinking about her ex-wife and attempting to contact her. She's not going to let Charlie throw her off her game. She's sure that's what Charlie's intent was and she's just not going to let it happen.

~O~

Charlie frowned slightly as she crossed her legs and read through her messages. It was information that she had wanted of course, but she hadn't expected the House to come back with a decision so quickly. "Has it been sixty minutes?" Charlie asked not looking up.

Santana sighed, she had never thought that she would be missing Kurt, but right now she missed him with his stupid tablet and his 'holier than thou' attitude. "It's been twenty, and when are you going to forgive him Charlie? I mean it's been a week, and I think he misses you."

"Kurt, has gotten a bit too full of himself as of late. He's an integral part of my job and for the most part I trust his opinion on many things. He fucked up, and he needs a reminder that he's not the CEO, he doesn't get to make decisions like this without informing me first. I'm more irritated that he hid it from me, then I am that it ended up blowing up in his face. I shouldn't have to be here defending myself against Quinn, and if we had simply ignored Quinn's op-ed originally then it wouldn't have blown up nearly as much as this."

Santana shook her head, she personally didn't care, "Just tell me you'll forgive him soon."

"I'll think about it." Charlie allows tilting her head as the door as the conference room opens. It's a bustle of movement as they start setting up but none of that matters as Quinn slowly enters the room, waiting for someone to hold the door open for her. Their eyes lock for a moment before she leans back in her chair and waves at her sister. She follows Quinn's shocked gaze as it locks onto Santana and sighs. "If you want to waste your time trying to talk to Santana, be my guest but don't forget that your clock is ticking."

"Santana—"

"She's here as my bodyguard, nothing else." Charlie waves her hand in dismissal.

Quinn's eyes narrow. "She's here to throw me off and don't think I'm stupid enough to miss what you're trying to do."

"Don't worry, Lucy. I'm sure there's no way that I can underestimate how stupid you are." Charlie sneers despite the fact that there were witnesses. "It's quite a shame that I can't sue you for libel." Charlie pauses for a moment. And turns half-expecting Kurt to be there to let her know that she could sue Quinn for libel. He wasn't. She probably wouldn't remember to ask him later either.

Quinn bites back a retort, she needed to get this on camera and more importantly she needed to be seen as a professional. She needed to make Charlie seem like she was the petty childish one and anyone with eyes could see it. She could even see a few sympathetic looks from the crew. She glances at Santana frowning when she can't even meet her in the eye. "The least you owe me—"

"She doesn't quite owe you anything Lucy, in fact from what I gather she's being more than generous in the divorce proceedings. Certainly far more forgiving than I would be given the circumstances."

Quinn grits her teeth when Santana looks away without a word and shifts in her seat. If a brawl is what Charlie wants, then that is what she's going to do. "Alright, well we're just going to set up here real quick and we'll go live in about five minutes."

"Excellent, Oprah and I were going to have lunch and discuss a documentary." Charlie comments before looking back at her phone. "She was very disappointed that I wasn't giving her this interview, so I informed her that we could do a docu-series, or something. I've always wanted Morgan Freeman to narrate my life, maybe I can have both Morgan Freeman and Oprah—what do you think Santana?"

"Morgan Freeman sounds good." Santana agrees distractedly.

Charlie hums, "I wonder how I'm going to have you portrayed Quinn? As a bully? As cheater? A murderer?" It's the last word that forces everyone in the room to look at her, some in shock others in disbelief. She smiles earnestly, though it doesn't quite meet her eyes.

"Murderer?" Quinn scoffs. She may be a lot of things but she's never taken a life. "Is this still about when we were kids? I was a child coming into my powers, and yeah I made a mistake." She nods to the cameraman, hoping that she's getting this all on tape.

Charlie's eyes turn cold. It wasn't some childish prank that got out of hand and Quinn didn't lose control. But that was years ago and maybe if that had been the only harm Quinn had ever cased her they could find some way toward forgiveness. She flicks her eyes to the camera, and it's only then that she realizes that they're rolling. Quinn hadn't given her any indication and there hadn't been a proper intro. This was a hatchet job and she wasn't going to get sucked in. "No, Lucy, this isn't about when we were kids. I do hope you're not going to spend our entire time trying to hash out old grievances."

That knocks the wind out of Quinn's sails. She had been expecting Charlie to come armed with stories of her misspent youth. But if this isn't the angle that Charlie's going for, then Quinn is going to have to re-think her approach. Since she doesn't have time to do that completely, she's just going to have to attack this with the most straight-forward approach possible. "What would you say to those in the superhero community that fear your attempt to disarm them is a personal attack and an attempt to cripple their work for the cities they protect?"

"I would say that we should be more concerned with the average American instead of worrying about hurting enhanced humans' feelings." Charlie retorts.

"But even you can acknowledge that you have a personal vendetta against superheroes." Quinn notes. She's not going to let Charlie weasel out of the point. But there's something about the confident smirk that her twin wears that makes her a little cautious.

"I have a vendetta against anyone who thinks that they can go outside the justice system that everyone else is required to follow and make their own rules. I have nothing against enhanced humans, like my bodyguard here, nor do I have anything against average humans. But it's about time that we take away the concept of vigilante justice and equip our society to protect itself."

"So of the myriad problems that our society bears, the only issue you concern yourself with is the hero registration act? Poverty, health care, military spending, all of them pale in comparison in your mind to registering each superhero along with their name, identity, and personal information?"

"Prometheus is working on fixing all those issues, and to answer your question? Yes. I think the time of hiding behind masks is over. When a police officer walks down the street, for the most part we can identify them by their uniform. We can ask to see a badge, we can ask for their name, they are out there as the first line of defense for lawlessness. They go after dangerous people all the time, and more importantly despite the fact I believe that police departments could do better when it comes to holding officers accountable, they are held accountable. They aren't allowed to simply barge into buildings and start shooting, and why? Because there are procedures, there are rules. Rules that enhanced individuals clearly don't want to follow because why? They're enhanced?" Charlie smiles for the camera and crosses her legs.

"Superheroes have done a lot of good—" Quinn tries, only to be cut off when Charlie shakes her head.

"These are the facts Quinn. This year our city is going to spend 160 billion dollars on repairs from enhance beings brawling in the street. There are schools in this city that can't afford to allow the kids to bring home textbooks. Those kids are generally from the poorer neighborhoods, which are for the most part minorities. Those kids don't get a chance to succeed in life, some do of course, there are a few success stories every year but they don't have the same opportunities, they don't get the same resources that the kids in richer communities do. Some of those children will be enhanced, some of those enhanced people will simply turn to a life of crime because it pays better than some fast-food work. It's easier, and it's all they know. So, this good that superheroes are supposedly doing is short-sighted. In reality heroes are doing far more harm than good and perpetuating a vicious cycle. I haven't even gotten into the massive loss of life every year. Which is far more important to me."

"You're saying that every supervillain comes from a poor broken home?" Quinn tries to clarify. It should be easy enough to find someone who doesn't fit that mold to disprove Charlie's claim.

"Of course not, I mean we came from an upper middle class family and here you are." Charlie retorts and then laughs as if what she said was hilarious.

"Right, because I'm the villain." Quinn sighs indulgently, "Me. The one who volunteers to put her life in danger to save countless lives—"

"Save?" Charlie interrupts. She's been watching the time, waiting and she's glad that she managed to hold onto whatever threads of patience she had clung to. "And what about those you slaughtered."

"—What?"

Santana paused and turned to Charlie a frown on her face. She wasn't sure where this was going either but Charlie looked agitated. The arrogant look on her face was gone, and she could see pain. "Char—"

Charlie stands, and begins to unhook her mic, "You're right Quinn this is personal. You're also right in saying that the reason that I'm doing this is completely because of your actions, and it's not because I'm a petty child who was jealous that you got powers. Look at me I'm a billionaire, I sleep with the most beautiful women in the world daily. While you? You're a narcissistic reporter who may not be guilty of traditional murder but you are guilty of negligent homicide at the very least."

"I don't know where you get your information—"

"But the real question isn't whether you're guilty or not. It's how many. How many lives have you taken, Riptide? Do you even know?"

"None."

"Bullshit." Charlie scoffs. "And that's precisely why this is a battle I have to fight. Because you don't even know. You don't know her name, you don't know what she meant to me, you don't even know that she existed. That she had a family—two brothers, a mother and a father who loved her dearly. A fiancé who loved her and built a multi-billion dollar company from the ground up in her name." Charlie's voice shakes for a moment and she swallows. "She died, because you tapped into one of the water mains, underneath a university causing structural weakness that caused part of the collapse."

Quinn blinks. She doesn't even remember that fight, but it sounds like something she would do. "I was just doing my job—"

"Your job? You mean the one that you had qualifications for, regulating agencies, and people to report to? Or the job where you decided that going after an enhanced human who had merely robbed a store warranted destroying an entire university and killing three people?" Charlie drives her point home. Time is up and she's done trying to play nice. "Either way, you should probably get a new job then." With that Charlie tosses her mic to the ground and walks up to Santana taking her cane from her. Santana didn't put up any resistance and she slams the metal cane against the ground sending a small vial shooting from the top. She shakes it twice, and returns to her twin grabbing her arm and slamming the booster shot into Quinn's arm. She ignores her cry of pain and instead pockets the vial. "There you go. I just fixed your whole walking problem. I would say that it's not going to hurt Quinn, but trust me when I say it's going to fucking hurt. You're welcome." With that Charlie turns and storms out of the conference room, leaving everyone stunned in her wake.

Santana is too shocked to follow Charlie. She knows that Charlie probably won't leave without her—but she can't believe what she's heard. For years she thought the rift between Quinn and Charlie had been mutual distaste. She had no idea— "What did you do?"

"I don't know." Quinn murmurs. Her own eyes don't move from the small trickle of blood running down her arm. She motions at the camera man to end filming this, this wasn't what she had planned.

~O~

Santana spent the entire car ride back to Charlie's apartment, trying to figure out something to say. What was there to say? Elaine Puckerman—that was the heartbreaking connection. Charlie slips out of the car as soon as it pulls up to her home and shuts the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, Santana steels herself and follows behind. It's only until they are in the elevator together that she finally attempts to talk to Charlie. "I'm—"

"I got you a job. You're going to take it. You hate being my bodyguard, and I hate having you sleep on my couch. It's weird. I bought you a condo downstairs, paid above market value for it. You'll take it." Charlie informs her bluntly.

Santana stared at Charlie mutely, unsure what to say or to do. "A job?" she presses finally.

"You're the new face of whatever they decide to call the new superhero task force. You'll have to go through training of course and Prometheus will be supplying the new department, task force—whatever this is with gear and uniforms, and I'll be coordinating with it. You'll go through intense training and you'll join a police academy, as well as go through some military training."

"You're firing me?"

"I was attacked under your watch." Charlie points out. "But no. Like I said, I know you hate this thing we have going on. Your duty to Quinn is over, it's time that you should get to live your life. And I know how much you want to be a hero. Which is why I put your name up for consideration. I got the news earlier that they'll be contacting you soon to offer you the job."

Santana felt like something was missing but was too taken aback to put her finger on it. "Why me? I thought you hated heroes."

"It's not that I don't believe there should be any heroes. I want them to be regulated and accountable for their actions." Charlie sighs with a half-irritated huff. "And I guess, I trust you too. You're—not like them. Careless—I'm not saying that people haven't died on your watch but it's not because you did something outrageously stupid, or selfish. I think you need the training." Charlie explains as she walks towards her apartment door.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. I'm not doing you a favor, there's probably going to be a lot of backlash but hopefully there will be heroes who believe in what I believe in and are willing to try." Charlie adds before entering her apartment. She makes a beeline for her cabinets and pulls out an expensive looking bottle of scotch and pours a drink before pushing the glass towards Santana. She takes a swig directly from the bottle and unbuttons the top button of her shirt. "So take the job," Charlie throws in before heading to the closed off room.

Santana winces and takes the glass before following Charlie, she had learned that Charlie in this mood could probably invent something to destroy the world on a whim and she couldn't just leave her. Not like this. "Fine. I'll take the job, but we're going to need to talk about getting a futon that I can sleep on."

"I was under the opinion that this was just a temporary solution, which is why you are moving one floor down. I am not putting a futon in my apartment. You can however keep the couch. I think I need to—Brittany said that I shouldn't stay in this place—it's like a mausoleum." Charlie murmured, eyeing the room that she's still unable to enter.

Santana sighs and takes a deep breath when Charlie pushes the door open and stares at the open room. "So tell me about her." Charlie turns to look at her and Santana takes another breath before continuing with this line of questioning. "Where did you meet?"

Charlie smirks as her eyes rake over the contents in the room, memories of Elaine flooding her mind. "Where do I even start?"

"At the beginning?"

Charlie exhales, slowly, "I was late, I had a class to teach and I was late. I had been playing games with Brittany all night and I overslept. I slammed right into her knocking everything down and it was like those stupid movies you know? Where your eyes meet? She was beautiful—and very annoyed with me," Charlie laughs taking another swig of her bottle and running a hand through her hair, she can feel her eyes burn as the tears begin to form.