January 21st, 2011 - Friday
Midnight
Taylor finished wrapping the bandages around her side. The bullethole had completely stopped bleeding partway through, the wound looking like it had spent days healing already. She still felt slightly light-headed, probably from blood loss, but she was now certain she'd feel just fine after a meal and a night's sleep. She came out of the office she'd used for privacy, and turned to walk towards a still-patient Webweaver. Jigsaw was leaning against a wall closer to the entrance. Time to deal with the devil, then.
"Medical emergency out of the way, then? Glad to hear it. The deal stands - you get paid after every job, we'll arrange for a place to stay, and we all look out for our own. You won't be ordered to kill." Taylor briefly considered the fact this woman thought the latter had to be specified.
"And about the rest of you? Associating with murderers..."
"We don't plan for assassinations or executions. However, anyone who comes after us with lethal force... we will not pull our punches either." Webweaver's voice had an edge to it at the end.
Taylor thought back to what happened an hour ago. After turning the Merchants against each other with her power, she couldn't honestly say that this would be going further than she already had. If she means what she says, anyway.
"And how much money we're talking about?"
"While it's still just us capes? Equal share of any job. Once we're expanding our operation and have henchmen and property to take care of, a portion of our profits will have to go that way as well," Webweaver answered as if she was discussing the weather.
"What kind of operation are you talking about here? Smuggling? Drug pushing? Extortion? Prostitution?" This was seriously starting to sound like just another gang to Taylor.
"Smuggling and drugs might happen, after all, where there's demand there will be supply. The real prize would be Parian's cooperation, however - between the two of us, we could make millions cleanly." Her tone shifted from even to enthusiastic at the end there.
"How, exactly, does that work?" If there's such a thing as "too good to be true", that's it.
"Bulletproof clothing superior to modern body armor in mass quantities. Power synergies are an amazing thing, aren't they? But we're wandering off-topic. You've already decided to join, haven't you?" Webweaver answered in an amused voice. She stepped toward Taylor and stuck out her hand. Taylor looked at it.
Last chance to turn back. But... I've made so many enemies already. I need allies.
Taylor shook Webweaver's hand.
"Welcome to the Elite, Eris. Jigsaw?"
The teenager, quiet until now, sprang to his feet at that and grabbed a packet off a dusty crate. He walked up to them.
"Paycheck for your first job, Eris. The Merchants really shouldn't have picked such a predictable time to bring half their unpowered forces and the most dangerous cape out of their territory - we robbed each of their drug houses except the ones where Trainwreck and Mush were staying. Wish I could see Squealer's face when she finds what Dynamic did to her garage," he chuckled, passing me the packet. The thin paper revealed stacks of bills.
"Wait - you knew they were going after me?"
"Squealer going berserk after Skidmark's death was inevitable - I had expected her to go after the Empire considering he was executed by one of their grunts after being downed in the fight, but you were both new and an easier target. I will not apologize for not warning you - after all, I did promise no more favors until you joined up."
This was more in line with what Taylor expected going in. Gritting her teeth, she asked:
"Where do we go from here, then?"
"I imagine you want time to heal your wounds and an actual bed to sleep in? Dynamic's waiting in his car. He'll take you to one of the apartments we're renting, you can set up there. We'll show you the real base of operations at a later time." Webweaver waved dismissively, and fireflies formed an arrow in front of Taylor. She followed it, Web leaving the warehouse through another door. After turning a corner, she came across a car parked in an alleyway. The driver waved at her, and she climbed into the passenger seat.
"Hey, Taylor. I'm Martin, Dynamic in costume." He stuck his hand out for a handshake. He seemed... not hostile, but as if he was going through the motions. Taylor shook his hand, put on the seatbelt, and they drove off. Half an hour later, they arrived at a block of flats. The one they were headed for had been on the second floor. It was fairly spartan - one bedroom, one living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, with minimal furniture and almost no decor. Martin tapped a table to get her attention.
"Your keys, spare keys" - he pointed at a set of them, - "phone" - he pointed at a smartphone, -"that one will be for business calls, oh, and that's makeup and hair dye - Web said it'd be better if you used it, don't want someone to recognize you and follow you to your place again, do we?" he finished, pointing at a bag that did, in fact, contain makeup and several colors of hair dye.
"Make yourself comfortable. One last thing before I go - the boss asked how long the wound will take to heal." He did not sound particularly concerned.
Taylor considered her answer. Even if she worked with them, that was information too easily turned against her.
"Haven't been hurt that bad before - a couple of days, maybe? Just to be on the safe side?"
Martin nodded at that, and said "Goodbye" in the same rehearsed tone he used to greet her. Then he walked out the door, leaving Taylor alone in a flat rented by supervillains. She checked the apartment for bugs, found none, and went to bed, thinking angry thoughts at her wound until she fell asleep.