Tattletale had changed lately. Undeniably. Quietly. In little ways that, when Thomas thought of them in an attempt to put them together, left him...unsettled. Disquieted for no real reason that he could discern beyond a creeping feeling that he was missing something. That she knew something he didn't...and that, for once in her life, she might have actually been right.

There was something wrong with him. A slowly growing headache had been building up behind his eyes for months.

It had been barely noticeable at first. Just a feeling that had been easily disregarded while he'd gone about his business. Running what was, in essence, a shadowy cabal that had its hands in every pie a city possessed wasn't easy. Two timelines were more than anyone else had, that was true, but even that didn't give him all the time he needed to do everything he wanted...and the headache that never stopped just made it impossible.

It hurt too much now. Far, far too much...and he was worried.

It wasn't cancer. Or high blood pressure. Or whatever medical issue he could think of on his own, let alone what his doctors had looked for. Panacea wasn't even an option for obvious reasons... But there was a cause. And the slowly, but surely, growing levels of self-assured disrespect he'd heard and seen in the girl's voice and actions when he was at his worst... It had just added yet more weight to his suspicions that she knew what was wrong with them.

If it hadn't been for what he was going through these days, he would have taken his frustrations out on her weeks ago. What he was dealing with wouldn't allow for it though. The pain only lessened when he stopped using his powers. Lessened. That was all...and he had no idea if it would go away if he just stopped. If he toned down how often he used his powers even further yet.

He'd never know though. His goals and ambitions wouldn't allow for it. That was a fact of life.

Until he found what the issue was, fun was off the table...but he hoped it wasn't a Thinker Headache. Dearly. He hadn't even known that it was possible for him to get those, if that was even the problem. Years of near constant power use without pause had given him the idea that his belief had been fact...but now he had to wonder. And he was also starting to wonder if he should spend the time and effort to bring Tattletale in anyway for a round of interrogative torture. Like the good old days, except with an actual point to it this time.

Yes. Yes, that would do nicely for his headache. He knew where she was, there were only so many penthouses. Not to mention that he knew exactly where her 'bodyguard' was at all times. Not that it was hard.

That failure of Cauldron's was nine-feet tall and a PR masterstroke. If Coil hadn't had someone keeping tabs on him, or anyone that could have possibly been a threat to him, he wouldn't have come as far as he had.

Anyway, all he had to was give the order and his troops would be all over that Penthouse while 'Moss' was away at that cafe he worked at...for some odd reason. It would be smooth sailing from there on. Tattletale would be strapped to a chair in his office before this 'Chef 53' would even be off for his first break.

He was already starting to think of what to ask of her. And what to do to her... She'd grown out her fingernails recently. She also still had all her teeth. That would do nicely for a star-

Coil paused in his thoughts about that day's entertainment to take a look around. It felt like there was something off...in his lair and he couldn't put his finger on it. He spun in his chair, his eyes looking back and forth...and, eventually, it came to him what was wrong.

"Did one of the pipes burst?" He wondered out loud in disgust, a hand to his nose the only thing that kept him from breathing in the wholly pervasive stench that was an open sewer line... Which shouldn't have been possible. He'd paid good money for the place. Damned good money. A weak infrastructure was a liability. Weak plumbing was a special sort of liability.

It looked like, after he was done with Lisa, he was going to have to have a long, painful talk with his maintenance team...

He spun around in his chair to page his staff and have the men move out... Only to see a wall of deep, dark green in his way.

"What the fu-" Was as far as he could get before his world was pain...and his ribs were turned to powder, decisively ending the timeline.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"GAH!" Thomas shouted intelligently, leaping up from his seat with a once full cup of coffee in his hand. A cup of coffee whose thankfully cold contents were now all over his shirt and lap as the other patrons at the cafe gave him odd looks. One woman even pulled her child closer to her, looking at him as if he was diseased.

Even in Brockton, a man in business casual going from calmly reading a paper to wide-eyed paranoia wasn't normal.

"Are you okay, sir?" A deep, bassy voice asked. A voice so deep that a nearby window buzzed like an angry wasp under vocal assault. "Do you need any help?"

Calvert's head rapidly pivoted to where it came from. His eyes widened and his heartbeat quickened as he saw who had said it. Green!

"Sir?"

He had to get out of here. Now. He had already died in one timeline thanks to this Case 53. He wasn't doing so again.

He split the Timeline.

In one he pushed past the line of customers and out through the front door. In the other he pushed past the Case 53 and through the employee exit.

He shuddered as the second timeline ended with a flash of green. Not again. He was out of the Cafe now. He just had to-

His head snapped to his side as a horn blasted in his ear. The horn of a large, red Semi that was barreling towards him.

He split the Timeline...and got to feel his ribs break in his chest, twice, before it all went dark.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Boss. Can-" I choked back the nausea with an effort of will and a painful gulp. "Can I go home for the day?"

It was a horrible mess out there. That man had just...walked out. Pushed right past me, jaywalked into the street at a near run and…splat. Done. Gone. Kaput.

The only good thing about this was that I had blocked most of the window. Pretty much every point of view leading to the scene of the accident so that none of the kids were traumatized by seeing it... But, in return, it meant that I had to take it all in so that they wouldn't.

Unless you're a Brute, when it comes to Truck versus Person, the truck is going to win. That was all I was going to say.

"Yes. Yes, of course." He shook his head, visibly stunned and nonplussed as he finished pushing the last of the customers out the side door and away from the carnage that had happened out front. "Just help me close up and you can go. We're not getting customers after that, no." He shook his head again as he wiped some sweat from his forehead with a paper napkin. "No more customers today. You're a good employee. I'll give you your tips and you can leave."

"Alright," I replied. Chewed clumsily on my lip and fidgeted in place as I actively avoided looking over at that cordoned off spot in the street. They'd missed some blood splatter. Terrible. "Sounds good, Mr. Lu." Time to go back home and see if I could find something strong enough for me to get drunk...or I could just hang around the girls for a while, to get my head on straight… Either or, I needed it.

At this rate, that truck-related PTSD that had passed me by the first time around was going to drag me into its clutches with a vengeance.