CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains Violence, with a capital V. Reader discretion is very advised. If I say anything else, it would probably count as spoilers, so yeah, be warned.


It's About Sending a Message.

Being a crime boss means that sometimes hard decisions need to be made. And while reality can be more complicated and gruesome, on paper the decisions boiled down to ensuring the business turns a profits, by all means necessary.

Securing the viability of the drug trade and the security of the dealers was essential for a gang such as Zaun. Threats worked wonderfully, especially for the weak-willed, and bribes were nice incentives for the soft-spined. Unfortunately, threats and bribes only worked to a point in this business. Reputation kept people in line and for that reputation to grow and solidify itself in the minds of the population, examples needed to be made.

In the early days, secrecy had been paramount. A single bird in his nest could tweet a song and suddenly the whole tree was singing it back. The bird needed to be hunt down before the rest of the birds heard the song. It had been your job to do so. After all, it was pretty hard for the bird to escape when it didn't even know it was being hunted. Threats on their family, threats of bodily harm, threats of stealing their cat and dropping it in the middle of one of the enclosures of the zoo. All viable threats. Bribes were easier to handle. So many cops in this city had a second source of revenue directly from the gangs it was a wonder the IRS wasn't stomping about the urban landscape more often.

But a threat only stayed a threat if the people knew what would happen if your… suggestion wasn't followed through, That was when examples were for.

Once, way back in the beginning, an ex-merchant joined the gang claiming forceful entry of his previous one. Revenge was a familiar concept, so you and Taylor let him in our gang and helped him take a slice of the pie. Not even a week later he was stealing cash from the register. We gave him a warning. This wasn't a petty gang where such dealings were allowed. Skidmark's neglect of his finances had been his problem, not ours. When the warning fell to deaf ears, Jack got the rat to sit in the middle of the warehouse to see his girlfriend kick the bucket by Taylor's hand cannon. After that we went full cliché and made him sleep among the fishes.

Business never ran more smoothly than the time immediately after such examples.

But too much of the stick will get you a knife in the back so an appropriate amount of carrot needed to be given to balance out the scales. Oh, your grandmother got cancer? We'll pay for the treatment. Your kids need new stuff for school? Here's the stuff plus a few cheat sheets too. Your wife got fired for her skin colour? Well… if she wants a job we are seeking new personnel and, hey if her ex-boss shows up with a broken arm do try to act surprised.

And so on and so on.

Your power was very good at making things look like an accident and if someone refused to do what they been told you always took a proper amount of pleasure in acting out horror movies. Move stuff in small increments in the room they are in, paint ominous messages in the mirror while they are taking a bath, open and close doors, turn lights on and off. Ghost stuff.

It was also good in keeping tabs on other parahumans. Not a thing you did actively but damn if this fucking city didn't have an enormous amount of them. As the daughter of a dockworker, Taylor has told you of the times her dad and his co-workers found dead bodies wash up on the shore and she also told you of the times some of the bodies were wearing homemade costumes. You can say a lot about the PRT and their propaganda, but one thing they didn't get wrong in this city it's the death rate for independents. So whenever you found a rookie going around, especially in your territory, depending on what you think of them, you follow them around and try to help them see another day. If you really like them you tell them to join a gang. Any gang, even the PRT. If they keep going at it alone they'll die, either Lung will burn them to a crisp or the E88 will skewer them like they are shish-kebab… or you'll be the one forced to make their bodies float in the bay.

Such is life in Brockton Bay.

You don't get the reputation of top 3 most dangerous city in the Eastern Coast for nothing. Top 5 most dangerous city in the US, not counting the cities with the Machine Army, Nilbog or where the Simurgh took a vacation.

Nevertheless, it's the times where you see the members of your gang living their lives to the fullest that makes you realise that all the stuff you do has a purpose.

It's those times that makes you realise that stuff like this it's what will keep Taylor and the gang safe. There is safety in reputation such as there is safety in numbers.

"Tell us what we want and we'll make it quick and painless."

"Fuck." Cough. "You."

Well, fuck you too, buddy.

Another punch to the gut makes him spit blood.

Krieg is sitting in the small interrogation room you and Taylor used for Coil. There was a two-way mirror into the room while in the other room the window was protected with two inches of bullet proof glass and steel bars. The wall themselves for both rooms are reinforced. Never say that Coil didn't spend a lot of money in making his base.

Tats is in that room with her computer checking his reactions and other bodily tells watching through cameras and the window to better gather info on Krieg and his gang.

You on the other hand are kicking the living shit out of Krieg.

You feel on top of the world. The memories of yesterday's event served as their own energy drink while you kicked nazi ass.

"Tell me, does Hookwolf fuck Cricket in his spare time? They seem pretty buddy-buddy for what I can tell. Or maybe it's Crusader? Nah, he seems too much of a conservative to have sex for sex's sake." Tats then tells you hints on what more to say and you continue. "Oh! You know it's always the conservatives that end up with weird kinks. Maybe his thing is adultery? What do you think? Did Crusader put the horns on Kaiser?"

Krieg thrashes in his seat trying to use his power but failing. You take a second to thank Taylor and her chemistry set and then you punch him again.

"C'mon Krieg boy! If we don't get the answers, we'll just have to get creative!"

His insistent refusal to answer earned him a personal encounter with a machete.

With a finger less and this session already going into its second hour it was time to speed things up.

Disappearing from his view, cloaked by your power, you go behind him and start scratching his back with your knife. Slowly from soft scratches to skin tearing, all the way to using the knife to cut the muscles. After making his back look like a Jason Pollock painting you rechain your power and start asking questions again.

Here's the thing you have found out about parahumans: they all act high and mighty until they can't use their powers. For a parahuman having powers is all that makes them special, makes them above normal humans. Heck, the fact you were a parahuman yourself only made it easier to attest to that. Your power is pretty great overall and despite the high price it came with it feels nice to have it as a sort-off fucked up reward. All the trauma of a parahuman manifested as a power, making it a symbol of their survival, therefore granting them a special status above the masses.

No matter the fact the masses usually end up suffering just as much if no more due to said parahumans. Those members of the masses rarely trigger, after all. And when they do, they come up with a special kind of hatred for their fellow parahumans, kinda like Hatchet-Face. And then the cycle continues again.

So, strip them of their power and watch them crumble. Watch them panic and beg and struggle. Coil did all those when his turn came.

They all become human.

And they hate it.

They are no longer special. Their powers were used like hammers in an analogy. They used them to solve everything in their lives and to suddenly see themselves without them?

Unthinkable.

So, it only took two full hours for Krieg to break and start singing.

Torture works very rarely in real life, talking things out is unironically the best way to get information from someone. Ask them about their kids, their friends, their spouses. Ask if they need money to solve something (whoever said money doesn't solve everything clearly never had many problems in their life) or if they need protection from someone. Ask them if they ever thought things would go this way, if they have a way out, a retirement plan. Provide them with what they need and people will talk.

Parahumans, unfortunately, until the 80´s, were not real life. The bastards are tough nuts to crack, mostly because threats of violence aren't enough. Violence in cape business is abundant and overrated. Practically every cape is at some level desensitised from it. The threats need to be made and need to become a personal reality soon after for parahumans to take notice and start complying.

Without his power and it seemingly not coming back any time soon, it was only a matter of time for Krieg to try negotiating his way through.

The stuff that Krieg spouts from his blood-soaked mouth is carefully written down by Tats in the other room while you continue to make leading questions.

Most of it is corresponds pretty solidly with what Coil already had but the few more pieces of info are useful to know and also more up to date.

It takes about an hour and a half for him to tell you everything he knows with Tats fact checking his information.

After that you let him stew a while.

You had breakfast before coming but you need your elevenses to keep going until lunch. You lock the door before you leave and after a bit of walking, you reach the cafeteria. Coil's men had it maintained for themselves, and while some of them decided to continue their employment with your gang, and so some were also inside enjoying a mid-morning snack, some have faded away after you and Taylor broke the news to them.

There's a hot coffee already in the pot and with a dab of milk and a bit of sugar, you recline on one of the chairs and enjoy it from your mug. You proudly drink from it despite it saying "Nº 1 Little Sister" in big round colourful letters for all your minions to see.

After intaking one more mug of coffee and literally stealing a bunch of cookies from the brightly vandalised cookie jar you retrace your footsteps to the interrogation room.

Instead of going in, though, you take a few more steps to the right and enter the adjoining room.

"What's up Tats?" You greet the blond thinker.

"Nothing unusual. Working myself a headache, though." She says with her eyes still glued to the computer screen.

"Well, tomorrow is rest day, so you can rest and do whatever you Thinker types do for fun." You glance into the next room. "How's the prisoner?"

"Sleeping. You kinda worked hard on him."

"Hmm. Supposed to." You mumble through the cookie you just put in your mouth.

Tats barely turns around and steals one cookie from your hold.

"Hey!"

"There's more where those came from, Imp. Sharing is caring."

You pout indignantly.

"Duchess is coming by in a few. Want to wait here or do you wanna go greet her?"

"She is coming already? I thought she was still with Urgot."

"It was a simple matter of replacing the cylinders. She already made a couple of them just in case."

"Nice. I'll go get her then. Anything I should tell her immediately?"

"Nah. Everything is according to parameters. Nothing major either."

"Well, see you then! Bye Tats!"

"We'll literally see each-"

And you closed the door to the room.

You proceeded to go on your way through the underground base. It has been… two weeks maybe? And the gang was slowly transitioning into making Coil's base their own. Slowly filling it up with simple chairs, folding chairs, armchairs, wardrobes, bunk beds, king-sized beds, coffee tables, writing desks, cabinets of all types and sizes, a couple of poker tables to pass the time and even a kotatsu. The sterile environment kept by Coil slowly changing to represent the aesthetic of the new owner. Several intricate carpets were on the floor, the walls were painted with deep colours, a few tapestries and painting were adorning the walls. While the old bourgeoise aesthetic was prevalent the steampunk aspect of the gang shined through the details. The clockwork look of the doors, the metal tubes that were impossible to cover up painted copper, the mechanisms of the base made to look like they were powered by steam and even the actual clocks on the walls. The tubage of the new alchemical machine that made Shimmer, installed at the lowest level, going through the walls, with glass parts showing the green and purple liquid rushing through the facility. Since only a small amount of time has passed since the base has come into their hands, only the main areas have been updated but the bunker is already beginning to look like a second home.

This base was to be their fallout shelter. If anyone dared to attack the Last Drop the gang would use this base as a secret rallying point but since it had plenty of space it was also serving to expand their Shimmer production. The entire thing being an Endbringer shelter was just a bonus, but Taylor already disclosed future plans in trying to reinforce the facility in case of something just as evil as an Endbringer but far more casual comes to town… like the Slaughterhouse 9 or the Butcher or Heartbreaker.

It is impossible to prepare for every single power in existence but failure to prepare is failure to succeed or something like that and damn if the PRT can have the Rig the gang will definitely get something just as cool as that.

By the time you get to the main entrance you still have a few minutes to scroll through the messages in your phone, answer them and then browse through PHO. All the cookies end up in your belly as you mindlessly go through the messages leaving nothing to entertain your body while scrolling PHO, so you end up climbing a few boxes and dangle your legs from on high. There are already several videos of yesterday's fight, with special highlights to Urgot and Duchess mowing down through their enemies. The majority of the videos of Urgot Vs Hookwolf fight was blurry, shaky and far away; understandable since the people recording were probably very squishy humans. The other fight had better quality videos and photos. Thankfully no images and no videos recorded you shooting Cricket's leg off, the vast majority of recordings focusing on the moment Crusader arrived and then him, Stormtiger and Rune getting single-handedly thrown out of the fight by the Purple Flame that Dances on the Graves of its Enemies, or how PHO has started calling Duchess: the Purple Sword Chick.

Nevertheless, PHO is running rampant with rumours and half-truths while waiting for an official report and interview by the PRT. Tax collection had been done discreetly but you made sure to take photos of the procession like an amateur paparazzi and give them to Tats, who was currently using them to further fuel the rumours. Photos of the new tags planted all over our territory were also circulating through the net while a video of Grue's loud pronouncement of their new allegiance was making rounds.

If Taylor's idea went through, we might even get the first word in this situation, even faster than the PRT.

Pieces were falling into place.

The main gates to the base then open.

Taylor, in her usual garb, saunters through the entryway while Spitfire walks calmly a few steps behind. They are accompanied by a few more minions who are immediately ordered by Taylor to go do some menial tasks.

"Good morning, boss!" Then you look to her companion and add "Hey, Fire!"

"Good morning, Imp." Taylor answers with a warm tone of voice.

"Hi, Imp." Spitfire returns your greeting.

"So, you here for the nazi?" You ask dropping down from your spot on the mountain of boxes.

"Yes. How has the interrogation gone?" Taylor inquires as she starts walking the way you came from a couple of minutes ago.

"Well enough, in my opinion. It was pretty easy to get everything after that dampener was injected." You lock steps with her. Your arm brushes hers and you feel the highlights of yesterday's events flash through you mind. You have to supress a shudder.

"Good. That mixture is too damn expensive and time consuming to make. Every drop needs to count. Anything new?"

"Yup. But not as much as we previously thought we could gather from him."

"That's bad… but also good." Taylor ponders out loud. "I would ask you to report in full but we both know Tattletale will want to be the one to do that when we arrive." She huffs in amusement and changes topics. "Spitfire has told me your brother is going to see your mom after the meeting. If you want, I can reschedule a few things for today and let you go with him."

You honestly ponder that invitation for a few silent seconds. The only noise in the hallway is the sound of three pairs of boots walking on the carpet. There is a part of you that wants to go. She is your mother and since you forbade people from selling hard drugs to her, she has been kinda in withdrawal. It would probably do her a world of good to see you… maybe. Well, if Brian was going maybe he´ll act as a buffer if anything happens.

"Sure." You answer. "She is still family, right? It's important."

Taylor gives you a swift glance from the corner of her eyes, but you can see the subtle pull of her facial muscles suggesting a proud smirk.

"Exactly." She answers, seemingly satisfied with your response.

The closer you get to the interrogation room the more Taylor's back straightens and her casual saunter becomes more of a deadly prowl. Duchess enters the room next to the one where Krieg was still resting and immediately strikes an intense conversation with Tats after the normal greetings are done with.

You mostly ignore them. Beyond the fact you already heard it straight from the source, you don't need to know whatever details Tats scrounged up in the meantime and idle talk bored you. You were an action focused person and the usual babble of nerds and geeks are only amusing to most until a certain point. Hearing Tats and Duchess discuss the minutiae of operating the gang might mean you lose touch with certain things, but that, in the end, really didn't matter. It would probably make a normal person insecure of their place in the hierarchy, but the truth is you are very much secure in your position. The goons, the minions and the support staff all knew you personally. You made sure to meet every new member of the gang and be there for their first tag, announcing their official membership into Zaun. Sure, names escaped you sometimes. It's hard to keep track of who's who when some even have the same name but you still recognize them by face. You were there for the dirty work, up and personal with them. You are their Queen. Leading them, directing them and assuaging them. But if you were a monarch in this analogy then Taylor would be a God, giving the sword and the sceptre to you. And like all Gods they are removed from mortals. They show themselves rarely, sometimes barely more than a mirage, but they are there, watching. They are the ones being prayed to and looked upon in hopes of being found worthy. Taylor is the one that directs the fate of the gang even if you are in charge.

What you are really trying to say, however, is that you looked at the small picture while Taylor viewed the big one. Your perspectives were different. It was very easy for Taylor to send a man to die from so far away in her desk but you were the one that silenced the man and gave compensation to whatever family he had.

A person can't be everywhere and do everything so delegating, and knowing who to delegate what, was very important.

Taylor and Aisha. Imp and Duchess. A dyad.

"Aisha?"

Taylor's voice breaks you away from your thoughts. The sound reaching your ears automatically making you smile a bit.

"You were pretty deep in thought. Never thought a nazi deserved such contemplation." She said gesturing with a nod to the window of the room showing an unmasked Krieg sleeping in his chair. You weren't paying attention to where your pensive and unfocused gaze landed, but apparently it landed on the content of the other room.

"No… I was thinking of something else." You shake your head. "Nevermind that. Now that we know all this… what's our next step?"

While Taylor gives you an inquisitive look, nevertheless she responds to your query.

"We know their patrol routes and main hideouts so attacking them would be easy." She then sighs. "However, Krieg's kidnapping is already known. They definitely know it's us that did it and they are on high alert. Changing locations and throwing decoys and making traps are the likeliest things they are doing right now. Thankfully, it's a good thing that this endeavour didn't have that objective. Coil's information has been proven to be reliable. There is no point, no matter how much knowledge one might have, if all of it is proven false. Beyond that… we are here to give the example to the threat we gave in the truce meeting."

"Like I thought." You admit. "Will you be the one to do it?"

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

You look at her for a moment. She is still looking at Krieg but does notice your silence. When she looks at you, she does a subtle double take and then rolls her eyes.

"Yes. I am a geek. I know."

"And a hypocrite."

"And a hypocrite." She repeats dutifully. "But c'mon. Can't let you handle everything of this sort."

You shrug. With the previous analogy still in your mind this might just equate to divine retribution. Then that thought leads to you thinking of Taylor in a greek dress with a spear and a shining halo smiting people… and then that made you think of what a greek toga would do to Taylor's lightly muscled frame… it might show a bit of her long legs…

Ok, you should probably refocus.

"-spite the fact that it needs to be done in an appropriate acid mixture. I don't want to damage the goods with any carelessness. I need to find that tattoo artist too. He had a nice firm hand in sculpting the images on them. It speaks well of his art, I think. Maybe I'll check his portfolio, see if he's actually that consistent in his quality and then get a tattoo for myself. Maybe you and I even get matching tattoos." She winks. "What do you think?"

"I think a tattoo would be good… for you. I still have school to go to. Communal showers are a thing. With the ass kicking we are doing to the E88 it's only a matter of time until someone in Winslow sees it on me and babbles to some upstart nazi wannabe about the black girl with the zaunite tattoo and they come after me."

"I never did say to get a tattoo referencing the gang though." She points out.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Then I'll think about it." You simply respond.

"Nice. Thank you." She then goes to retrieve the pocket watch from the folds of her jacket, opens it, checks the time and put it back into its resting place. "Welp. I think it's time to end this encounter. Grue and Regent are setting up the recording equipment and for us to be ready for the shooting of the video we need to hurry up."

"Sure. C'mon I'll show you in."

"Thanks. Tattletale… it's probably best you go get some coffee." A concerned look from Taylor ends up mixing with the commanding tone she gave making the statement more of a suggestion then an obligatory order. But Tats just nods tiredly until suddenly she shakes her head. She sits up straight with a look of resigned determination shinning in her bottle green eyes.

"No. I'll stay here for a bit more. There's still a bit more data to be mined from Krieg's accounts."

Taylor gives her a searching look and then nods slowly but firmly.

"Very well. But as soon as you are done I want you to go rest. Get a snack before you go take a nap. Spitfire will probably cook you something if you ask."

"Sure, thanks."

"C'mon." You nudge Taylor along.

It´s a simple movement: you open the door, pass through, close it, walk a few steps to the left and then open that door with your key.

Spitfire is alone in the corridor scrolling through her tablet. She looks at the both of you and then nods. She takes out her phone and starts making a call.

You and Taylor enter the room waking up Krieg from his nap.

"Wha-What?"

You lean on the wall while Duchess walks forward to meet Krieg. Her hands resting on her cane and her eyes piercing through the nazi.

"Good morning, Krieg."

"Ah, Duchess. I was wondering where you were."

"I hope you were well received by my partner?"

"Partner, huh?" He gives you a searching look, up and down.

"Yes. She was quite busy and couldn't go to the meeting at Somer's Rock, unfortunately. Her name is Imp, she is the co-founder of Zaun."

You wave cheekily.

"Well, I would say it was nice meeting you, but that would be an enormous lie." He snorts derisively. He then turns back to Duchess. "So, what now?"

"Now, we will release you from that chair and put to rest any animosity between ourselves."

He snorted again.

"Do you really think that?"

"Oh, Krieg. I can be quite persuasive when I want to."

"I highly doubt whatever you say will make me forget what you and your pet ***** have done to me so far."

You try not to frown at his choice of words.

"Nevertheless, I assure you, you won't even remember this conversation after we are done."

He narrows his eyes and looks suspiciously at Duchess. Then, there's a look of understanding in his eyes and he speaks again.

"You. You are the tinker, right? Not that monstrous cape. What are you going to do to me?"

"Well, you are half right." She waves her hand slowly. "Trainwreck is also a tinker. Despite being a Case 53, his specialization is quite good if one knows how to properly manage it. Refinement of base materials is something that complements by own specialization quite well. Anyway, me? I won't do anything. Thankfully, I have contacts with Toybox. Cranial, specifically. I'll give you to her and she'll remove the memory of the past two days in a jiffy."

"This is a trick, isn't it? You are going to steal more than just that?"

"You already told us everything we need to know. Why take more? It's a waste of money and Cranial charges a pretty penny. We just can't have you remembering our base. But I give you my word that Cranial won't do to any harm to you."

He tries to use his eyes to search for any signs of lying from both you and Duchess. When he finds nothing, he sighs.

"Not like I have much of a choice, right?"

"Good. Imp release him but bind his hands and his thumbs, will you?"

"Sure." You respond.

Going behind Krieg you use a plastic cable tie to tie his thumbs together and then you handcuff him. After that it's only a matter of undoing the knots in the ropes keeping him stuck to the chair. Surprisingly, he doesn't struggle. You pick him up by his forearm and Taylor makes way for you.

Spitfire is outside with Coil's (yours now) mercs. You end up moving as unit through the underground base. After a while of walking Krieg speaks again.

"Wait. We are going down?" He says after entering the newly arrived elevator and seeing Duchess punch the floor number in.

"Toybox enjoys teleportation technology. Up or down doesn't matter." Duchess dismisses.

"Hmm."

When the elevator doors open what greets him isn't Dodge and his little dimensional wormhole but the half-lit nothingness of the great room of the Endbringer shelter. At first, he doesn't comment. Probably thinking the Toybox tinker just hasn't arrived yet. But then he hears a noise similar to the cocking of a gun, and he stiffens.

He turns around slowly.

"Hey… Wh-"

"I am sorry, Krieg. Nothing personal, it's just business." Taylor simply raises her sword-cane, readying for a strike.

"Please, think about this. Are you really going to kill me?" He speaks rapidly and worriedly.

"It does cost me far less than keeping you alive."

There's an electric purple swipe, its light inundating the half-dark room, blinding your vision.

The head drops to the floor.

The body follows it.

A moment passes.

Taylor sheathes her sword-cane.

She walks slowly to Krieg's cadaver.

"You know your orders. Get rid of the body." She picks up the head, her hands on both its cheeks. "I'll deal with the rest myself."

The merc to your left simply takes out the body bag rolled up in his backpack and joins his fellows in preparing the body.

You go to Taylor, who is still staring at Krieg's head.

You avoid the growing pool of blood and put you hand on her shoulder.

"C'mon. I want to see that tattooist you were talking about." You try bit of levity to try and distract her but then your eyes escape your command, and you glance at the body being lifted up and put inside the body bag.

You look back at Taylor. Her right hand caresses each eye of Krieg's head, closing them. Her voice comes out soft and delicate.

"I didn't want to kill him in the interrogation room, despite Lisa's insistence in staying there to watch."

"I understood that." You simply say. "She wasn't ready yet."

"No. Not yet."

She shakes her head and looks back at you.

"Let's leave these morbid thoughts behind. The day is not yet over. We have other things to do."

"Of course, Duchess."

One of the mercs approaches with a plastic box in which Taylor drops the head in. He gives the box to her and goes to join the rest of his company in lifting the occupied body bag.

You leave the main shelter and the smell of copper and death behind.

It reminds you to contact one of the cleaning lads.

They'll take care of removing any unpleasant remains.

Now you just need to be there for Taylor.