The tags say 'Merchant'. The guards that just moved back inside for the night say 'stash house'.

"What do you think?"

'A drug dealer's one-stop-shop. Everything you need and more.'

Alright then.

I tuck the Heart away, turning to pull my mask on. To pick up the red-taped Charm sitting on the duct-work nearby, and thread it into place on my belt. I'm about as prepared as I'm going to get for this. So I might as well get to it.

It starts with the lights. Not hard to track down their generator; a paper-plastered window on one of the upper floors is missing a pane, exhaust directed up and out by-

-some sort of flexible tubing system. Surprisingly well put together, for a bunch of violent junkies. The room still reeks of gasoline, but that's more because of the open containers they've got sitting around. Has to be twenty gallons here. Just barely enough to run the thing for more than a day or two. Probably stolen.

A few trips later, the room contains considerably less gasoline, and this little venture has already paid off.

That doesn't mean I'm just going to leave it at that, of course. That'd be stupid.

I've had the opportunity, this past week, to pick up some useful new life skills. Learning new things. Like, for instance, how a gas-powered generator works. How to set one up, and how to make sure it's working properly. None of those lessons really covered how to sabotage one, but it's not hard to figure out. Pry off the casing, turn the thing off, then give the insides a few good whacks with my baton.

Lights out, boys and girls.

I jam the casing back in place, and pick my way across the room to stand beside the doorway. Listen to the shouting from around the building. People who aren't happy about finding themselves in the dark without warning. Maybe people who just aren't happy in general. The Merchants seem to just be angry as a matter of course…

It doesn't take long for people to come investigate. Footsteps, in the hallway. Grumbling. Light sweeping back and forth, from beneath the door. I enhance my vision as the door is shoved open, grab the handle before it can hit my mask. Neither of the pair that just barged in notice, of course.

"Fuckin' piece of junk…"

"This thing's top of the line. It's you fucking retards who never remember to gas it up."

I nudge the door closed again, watch the floor and listen carefully as it clicks shut. With the way one of them seems to be kicking the generator, I don't think they noticed that, either.

"Cut it out, asshole! You're gonna bust it!" There's some struggling, the light dancing as the flashlight changes hands. Footsteps circling around. "Look, man, it's not even broken or anything. Somebody just turned the damn thing off."

"And which motherfucker would'a done that, huh?"

Well, it must just be my lucky night.

I clear my throat, right behind flashlight guy. They both jump, and I tilt my head enough for my mask to block the worst of the light's glare.

"That would be me."

I don't wait for it to sink in, of course. As much fun as that might be. Instead, I smash flashlight-guy across the face, sending him reeling back into the generator. The flashlight hits the ground, I kick it out of the way-

-and wrap an arm around guy-two's neck before he has time to do more than curse.

What's with the Merchants and swearing? I don't get it.

The guy on the floor is trying to get up, while the guy I'm choking is trying to struggle...this is the kind of thing I need to work on, still. A tighter grip, a pull, I manage to walk the both of us close enough for me to kick a supporting arm, crumpling him back down. A stomp to the ribs takes a bit more of the fight out of him, and quiets what might have been a shout into more of a hiss.

Guy-two is still struggling, though, and actually managed to get a good grip on my hood. Which is annoying. So I whip my baton down to bash his leg, drop him forward onto his knees, then bounce his head off a metal strut on the generator.

And I hold on tighter, for just a little longer. Because better safe than sorry.

Speaking of…

"Where are the drugs?"

Stomped-ribs wheezes angrily at me. Even manages to glare, when I drop his unconscious friend and move to kneel over him.

"It's an easy question. There are plenty of them here, and I'm sure that when it comes to your product, you people are at least organized enough to store it in one place. So?"

Nothing.

I sigh. "Fine. Whatever. It's not like they'll be hard to find." He jolts, as I push his head against the floor, anger giving way to fear when I put a knee on his chest. "Hold still." Of course he doesn't, but then, I don't really need him to, for this. A shove turns his head to the side, exposing his throat. His pulse jumps, visibly.

Jeeze. You'd think I was about to murder him or something.

"Go to sleep." Half an order, as I jab him with the wire-wrapped bolt. Blood wells, but he stops struggling quickly enough as the narcotic payload takes effect.

He goes to sleep. I stand again, and tuck the used bolt into an empty pouch on my belt. Hypodermic needles of the sort I've been using aren't exactly easy to get, after all.

Two down. Something like eight more to go, if my count was right.

Shouldn't be that hard.

Here's the thing about the Merchants: they're kind of pathetic. Yeah, a guy with a weapon is a guy with a weapon, and even a strung-out asshole can be fucking dangerous if you're a normal person cornered in an alley. But, pound for pound, they don't measure up to any of the other groups in the city.

And they know it.

So they group up. They bring their buddies in to hold the other guy down, they fight dirty, they stab you in the back and take your things because they want to, because they can, for no reason at all.

When faced with an outside threat, they pull together. If it weren't for the fact that they're murderous, drug-peddling assholes of the highest order, it'd actually be admirable.

Since they are all of those things, I'm perfectly willing to use it against them.

All it takes is a few rats swarming a guy on the first floor. Dropping one of those unconscious bodies on a card-game in progress on the third. Letting one of them spot me, dragging his friend into a closet. Pretty soon, they're all crammed together, armed, watching the doors and shouting obscenities in the dark.

It gets worse, when I perch on the ceiling in the middle of their circle. When they can feel me watching them. I let them stew for a little while, let them start considering retreat as an option...when one tries to break for the exit, only to get cowed back into place by a guy with a sawed-off shotgun, I dig a lighter out of my pocket.

What was once a beer can drops to the floor in the middle of the group, the short fuse jammed in the top hissing in the sudden silence.

"What the fuck-?"

It goes off with a sound like a firecracker, and a flash that I can see even with my eyes closed and my head turned away. For the group below me? Well...none of them have super-powered night vision that they can turn off and on at will. That has to suck.

Things break down about as I'd expected. There's shouting, and swearing, and a couple of blindly fired gunshots before I manage to get rid of their weapons. Nobody dies, but at the end of it all I'm sure i've broken a few more bones than I intended to.

Mostly theirs, but my side is pulling uncomfortably when I breathe so who can tell, really?

"-four, five...and you're six." That's ten. Awesome. "Stick around for a bit, guys. Somebody should be along to collect you in a couple hours. If the roads aren't too bad."

Something about the muttered 'Fuck you' as I slip out of the room just...makes me smile.

It doesn't take too long, after that, to track down their store room. Powders and pills of all kinds, wrapped up, piled on tables, set next to measuring equipment and what I have to assume is general 'drug paraphernalia'. I consider it all, for a bit, before pulling out the Heart again.

"A little help here?"

'Pharmaceuticals are locked up. The good stuff's worth a lot of money. Getting them for free somehow makes them even more valuable.'

Okay then...there is a strong box. A heavy padlock holds it shut. That comes off with the aid of my baton and a bit of careful prying.

Bottles full of of painkillers. A few other useful meds. It only seems to be about a third of what was stolen, but this is only one hideout.

And it's better than nothing.

'There's a lot of heroin here too, y'know. The packs with the brown packing tape.'

I glance up at the nearest table, stand away from the box to take a closer look. Wrapped up in plastic and tape…'bricks'? Are they bricks? Kilos? I turn one over it my hands, just feel the heft of it.

'Oh, and number eleven's done sleeping it off.'

Number what?

"Who the fuck'r you!?"

I spin, throw the heroin at the voice. Tall guy, unwashed clothes, missing teeth. He throws his arms up to ward off the flying pack of drugs, which gives me the time to grab for the crossbow strapped across my back. It...takes a bit, and he's about three feet away before I manage to get it loose, aim, and fire.

He goes down. I take a deep breath.

"I need to work out a better way to carry this thing." Because it takes even longer to holster it again. Which just...isn't optimal. "And thank you, so much, for the heads up."

'You seemed like you had things in hand.'

Yeah, right. I pocket the Heart, poke around the room a bit more...until I find an empty duffel. Useful. The stolen meds go in first. Then a few packs of the heroin. Waste not…

I think that's everything? No, wait.

Guns, still where I'd dropped them. No more ammunition than whatever's in them, but I'd like to get back to the camp before morning...

...and I'm going to have to haul the gas, too.

Shit, yeah. Time to go.

xxxxxxxxxx

Six in the morning, the camp is already starting to stir. The guards around the perimeter trading off, what few relief workers are still hanging around hauling themselves out of their cots to face another day of organizing work.

They've had a better time of it than some of their colleagues, from what I can tell. Dockworkers aren't exactly strangers to manual labor in shit conditions.

"Gasoline." I tell the guy manning stockpile, as if it wasn't obvious enough from the pile of gas cans I'm topping off when he shows up. "Might want to check it; got it off some Merchants who won't be needing it anymore."

Which reminds me, I need to call that in at some point.

No, I'll do it now. Right now. Takes maybe ten seconds to dial, maybe thirty to offer up a report on the automated line. Location, number of bad guys, all of that. Very official, for a glorified answering machine…

"Where's the boss?"

"Medical, I think?"

He doesn't sound very sure...but then, the way he's looking at me, I think he must be one of those people that just doesn't know how to act around me. There's a few of those, in the camp. Which...I guess isn't surprising. It's just as weird on my end.

So I don't make a big deal about it, offer up a backwards wave as I shoulder the duffel again and start off toward the medical tent.

It's more like a canvas pavilion, really. Big, squared off, marked with a bright red cross. Mostly enclosed, though the entryway is tied open right now to let people in and out with relative ease. I step inside, and almost immediately-

"Crow! You're back!" Dad tries, he really does, but he can't hide the relief in his voice. "We weren't expecting you to be gone all night."

Which means he was probably up all night, too. Less than ideal, considering he's still healing from an amputation. The fact that he's out here at all is (according to the 'medical professional' in charge of this little operation) a 'massive and foolhardy risk to his recovery'. Lack of food, lack of medicine, now sleep deprivation?

Well. I did pick up something that should help.

I sling the duffel onto an empty cot, looking between my Dad and the good Dr. Haywood himself. Give one of the recovered bottles a rattle before tossing them to the doctor. "They'd already split up the take. But I got what I could." Evidenced by the rest of the bottles I scoop out onto the cot. "Almost all painkillers."

"Plenty of people who need something to take the edge off." The doctor snorts, sighs, frowns critically at the pile I've made. "That won't last, once we redistribute it to where it was meant to go." His attention shifts back to me, sharper than before. "If there's anything you can do…?"

My thoughts turn to the drugs still packed in the bag. "I think I can help you stretch things a little further." Though I'm not sure I could claim to be looking forward to it...I sigh, and turn back to my Dad. "Mr. Hebert-" Damn is it weird calling him that. "-I'm sorry I kept everyone waiting. Did anything happen, while I was gone?"

He visibly collects himself, reaching down to turn the wheelchair, face me more directly. "Nothing that we can't go over later, if you still have things to do."

Apparently I do. So I'll have to assume that no news is good news. "Later then." Bag closed up, shouldered again, I turn and head back out. "I'll do what I can about the meds!"

I don't wait for an answer, before teleporting to the nearest rooftop. From there, it's a short hop to the room I'd closed off on the top floor of a squat little office building we'd collectively claimed.

It's not much. A cot, a couple changes of clothes...a couple of desks I'd pulled together, to serve as a work table.

A few useful tools and half-finished 'projects' scattered all over it.

I drop the bag. Try to ignore the sudden and oppressive silence of being alone, inside, without air-conditioning or people or traffic…

The mirror is covered in a sheet, but all it takes is a sharp tug. The reflection beneath isn't quite a reflection...and when I lay a hand on the glass, something sharp and articulated presses from the other side. It's like that for a moment, smooth glass and the faint thrum of energy...and then I grasp, and am grasped in turn, and the world-

-tips-

-and falls-

xxxxxxxxxx

I walk through a...cavern? Or a forest? Curved pillars of something crystalline, a vaulted ceiling overhead, glimpses of emptiness beyond.

The pillars flicker, occasionally, light racing between the floor and ceiling, seemingly at random. And they whisper softly, just on the edge of my hearing, as I move through them.

'Further in this time.'

Which is annoying. "It wasn't very far last time I tried this."

'I think it's moving things on purpose.'

And wasn't that just a chilling thought?

I walk. The whispers follow me, along with the echoes of my footsteps on the stone. "You keep talking about it like it's...conscious." I didn't want to say 'alive'. That much seemed like kind of a given. "Aware."

'Not quite. Not in the way you're thinking. But limited agency is close enough in all the ways that matter.'

The heart pulses, softly, and in that brief moment a ghostly image appears. Hovering beside one of the pillars, peering into the dark, writhing shape that seems to move at its center.

'I'm surprised you're bothering to ask. You didn't want to know, before.'

I didn't. I still don't. "I can't undo this, can I? I'll have to deal with it all sooner or later." I turn, edging around to a clearer path. Pause, and trace my fingertips across the nearest pillar...the whispers grow harsh, angry, but thEy tell me about someThiNg LarGe-

-which isn't what I need. Further in.

"Can't stay ignorant forever."

'Oh, that's rich.'

I don't respond.

I deserved that.

The quiet drags on for a little while longer. I stew, and try to work out questions. The Heart...Tattletale...is just limited. She responds. To intent, to curiosity, to questions...but something has to be there. Otherwise she's just...quiet.

A ghost, trailing after me. Haunting her remains, maybe in a very literal sense.

Another thing I've tried not to think about too much. Maybe I'll work up the courage for that one day soon. For now, though…

"What are they?"

'Creatures. Machines. The distinction gets kind of blurry on their scale.' Another low pulse, a flicker of a girl falling in step beside me. 'They're powers, Taylor. The kind that Parahumans get.'

I glance back, to catch sight of the thing behind me. Or however much of it I can actually see, given how much of itself its...hiding? Keeping, maybe. Either way, it's not hard to track from there, following the threads it holds. All those little stars that I'd dreamed were lighting up the inside of my head. Not exactly a dream, in the traditional sense.

"And every Cape…?"

'Probably.'

Fuck. That's hard to swallow. "This one drove the Tinker crazy."

'His name was Trevor...and yeah. Kind of.'

"Kind of?" More silence. I stop, frown, hold the Heart up in front of me. Like it's somehow more…'direct', talking to her like that, and not just me being an idiot. "What does that mean?"

A few more seconds pass...and then she sighs. 'Trevor was a normal parahuman. Which means he broke. And something broken fell onto him from a great height.' A pulse, Tattletale forming around her heart to stare down at me before vanishing again. 'The Outsider had just arrived. He noticed. He thought it was interesting. So he made his approach. He showed Trevor what had attached itself to him.'

'It...wasn't quite ready to be seen.'

My stomach churns. "He broke more."

'And it fucked him up. More than most of us...just a little further. Bear right.' I flinch at the not-so-subtle reminder, start walking again. 'This thing...it's like a library. Or an archive? It was supposed to feed him...inspiration. Ideas. Give him the tools to bring those things out of his head. Only instead of being a voice in the back of his head-'

"It was a literal voice." The whispers he'd ranted about in his notebook. Hell, the drawings on the wall in the booby-trapped workshop...looking into one of the nearest pillars, I could see tHe resembLance. "And it drove him crazy."

'More crazy. He was already a little cracked. Didn't take much.'

She sounds so...dismissive. It takes me a second to bite down my first, knee-jerk response. Because Tattletale knows people died because of him. She was one of them.

'It was a mess. Bad luck and bad timing on everyone's part. But hey, something good came out of it.'

"Oh really?"

'The Outsider was more careful when he came to you.'

...oh.

'This is it, by the way.'

I swallow, and look up at the crystal pillar in front of me. Swallow my discomfort. I'm here for a reason, after all.

Eyes closed, hands out...my Mark itches, as I oPen myseLf to the VoiCe.

It tEaChes Me. evVen thOugh I'lL forGet, SooN eNougH…

xxxxxxxxxx

I blink. Shake off the last of the haze, as the whispering finally quiets.

Back in 'my' room. What I guess must amount to my 'workshop'...now set up more like a chemistry lab. I don't really remember reassembling the little distilling setup, or pulling together the rest of these materials, but I guess it's a good thing I kept some of this stuff on hand. Something...I did something with the heroin, there, and I remember it was important if I wanted it to work with the few drops of sedative I had left over from the salvaged bolts Shadow Stalker had been issued.

The details are already gone, of course. Seems to be the way of things. I'm not really a Tinker, I don't think.

"I just have his powers."

This...will do. In low doses. Something about the way I fixed it should make the negative effects less drastic, but I don't think there's such a thing as a non-habit-forming opiate.

Still. Something I'm willing to offer up. Something people will be able to use, and that will ease some of the strain on our supplies…this is a good thing. I did something good.

"They were his powers. Now they're mine."

I'll use them better.

Tattletale doesn't respond. Not surprising, considering the Heart is still in my coat, tossed over a chair.

Whatever.

I stopper the flask with the finished product, sling my coat back on, double-check to make sure I'm still wearing my mask-

-then step into the medical tent again. "Hey, Dr. Haywood? I've got…"

Amy?

"Crow." She turns, stepping away from the doctor with an obviously forced smile. "I've been looking for you."

That doesn't really bode well for the rest of my day.

"Can we talk?"

I set the painkillers aside, and nod, because what else am I going to do?

"There's a nice rooftop nearby." She flinches, but when I offer my hand she doesn't hesitate to take it. And it's an easy thing-

-to give us a little privacy. Because...well. Her smile drops, and she turns away. Privacy was probably the right call. I give her a minute, take the time to pull off my mask, try and rub some of the dry itch from my eyes.

"Aunt Sarah's been looking for you." She finally turns back to me, arms crossed...defensive. Anxious. Like most people these days, she looks about as tired as I feel. "Because you didn't come back, after Leviathan."

"What?"

"She said that she told you to find her, and you never showed up." Suddenly, she's glaring. "If one of the paramedics at the camp I've been working hadn't mentioned you, she'd probably still be running herself into the ground trying to track you down."

That...doesn't make sense. "If this is about the Tinker…"

"It's not!" I step back, because suddenly she's right in front of me. "It's not about some psychopath, or your fucked up powers, or whatever the hell else you've managed to get wrapped up in!" When I try to move again, she grabs a fistful of my coat and keeps me in place. "She lost her husband, her sister, and her son in the same day. Crystal's falling apart, Mark hasn't left our living-room in days, and Victoria-"

Her face twists, and she shoves me back, turning to stalk away from me. "She can't do anything about any of it. So she's latching onto something she thinks she can actually fix."

Fuck. I'd known that; most of it, anyway. But I'd just assumed that would mean...the opposite, maybe. Why would someone in that situation still be trying to…

Wait. "Assault said…" What is it he'd said? "I thought Victoria made it?" She had, hadn't she? He told me she was alright…

She scoffs, pressing a hand to her head. "That's what you get from all that…?"

"I'll meet with your aunt today, if it means that much." And I will, absolutely. But first, "What happened to my friend?"

Amy scowls at me again. Shakes her head, before waving off toward the bay.

"The same thing that happened to the rest of us."