Signal to Noise

08

A red laser punched a hole through the ground above Fortress Construction like the fist of an angry God, boring a yard wide hole straight through the armored roof and into the floor.

I dropped inside the hole, ignoring the gunfire and hail of Tinkertech lasers hitting my shields harmlessly—the energy from the shots, laser and bullet alike, being eaten by my shield. The moment the first laser hit, Enola recalibrated the shields to absorb that type of energy as well, so while the first shot might have broken through eventually, the following shots did not. "Where is he?"

Tattletale's voice answered as I waited. "You blasted through the top? Go down six floors. He'll be in an office on the north side of the base, assuming he hasn't used the escape tunnel. I'm directing Weaver to cut off that route."

Nodding, I punched through the floor below me, then the next, and so on until I dropped down into the sixth floor. Resistance was heavier here, but the hail of bullets and lasers slacked off when they began to see it was having no effect.

"Look, guys," I said, my voice broadcast in public address mode. "It's not working. You're about to have a change in employer. You can stand aside and make this easy, and I guarantee your services will be retained… Or we can do it the hard way and I can start throwing around lasers." I held up a hand to stop them. "Now, before you answer that, consider this: my lasers punched through the armored ceiling and the intervening floors. What do you think they'll do to squishy, normal humans?"

That did it. The troopers threw down their arms and stood aside. I quickly floated down the hall. "Okay, sixth floor, north side office is empty."

"There's a hidden door in the northwest corner of the room," Tattletale supplied. "We're here. No movement."

Enola scanned the room and highlighted the door for me. A quick blast knocked it down and I caught a glimpse of a glow—infinite mirrors pointed out into the endless sea of limitless possibility, shattered into but two shards—around someone running down the corridor. "Coil, get back here! Don't make me chase you! You're just going to go down tired!"

I took off down the hallway after him. Coming to a sharp corner, I rolled my eyes and stuck my hand out first. Coil was there waiting with a gun leveled at head height. I sprayed a blast of narco-laser—

I took off down the hallway after him. Coming to a sharp corner, I rolled my eyes and stuck my hand out first and heard footsteps running away. My third person cam picked him up and I hit him with a narco—

My third person cam picked him up and I missed as he dropped into a slide under the laser. "How many more of those you got left in you?!" I taunted, coming around the corner and filling the air with red blasts. Coil jumped—

—Coil juked left—

—dodged right—

—slid under—

"This is getting ridiculous. Fuck it. Dodge this, shithead. KONAMI BEAM!"

—up—

—up—

—down—

—down—

—left—

—right—

—left—

Coil collapsed into an unconscious heap as the beam that was supposed to come from his left, forcing him to go right, instead came from his right and struck him in the back.

A door opened at the end of the tunnel, leaving Tattletale and Weaver silhouetted against the entrance. "What happened?" Tattletale asked.

I snorted. "Conditioning." She raised an eyebrow. "I called my attack and fired at him in such a way that he'd have to execute a real life Konami Code to dodge—"

Tattletale rolled her eyes. "What did you do, take a page from Uber and Leet? Let me guess, you went right when you should have gone left. He fell for that?"

"Well," I dragged out the word as I noticed the glow around him fading, "Either that, or he ran out of juice." Reaching down, I touched the side of his neck and found no pulse. "Uhh…"

Yanking his mask off, and revealing that Coil was Thomas Calvert all along, and if it weren't for those damn kids and their dog…

I felt for a pulse again and checked his breathing. I considered pulling off my gloves, but thought better of it because all of my First Aid skill told me something I desperately wanted to deny and I didn't want to leave prints if I was right. "Hey Lisa, can you—"

"Oh, he's dead," she confirmed, kicking the body once. "I don't think you did it, though. Look." She knelt down and pointed to his ears, nose, and eyes, where blood had begun to leak out. "Seems like he pushed his power too far."

I groaned. "Oh for fuck— This is the third time! No one's going to believe this was an accident or self-defense, or that he just happened to start pushing up daisies after I got involved! I lasered him, he died, obviously I'm to blame! Fucking son of a—"

The blonde blinked. "The other two times were?" Tilting her head, she made an 'o' shape with her lips. "Oh. You're the girl from the news. The 'child killer' who offed Stalker."

Ominous buzzing filled the tunnel as Weaver's bugs began to trickle in. "And?"

Tattletale shrugged. "Good riddance, bad rubbish, you get the idea. Grue would probably buy you a drink for it, since she attacked him about a month ago with broadheads." Standing up, she brushed her hands off as though knocking off trash. "Speaking of, Coil was also scum. I'll get some of his guys to do something about the body—probably plant it in his home, in costume. My guys now, I suppose." Blinking, she turned green eyes up to meet my glowing red. "Ours? That partnership still on offer?"

Weaver cleared her throat. I rolled my eyes. "I'll have to talk to my partner, but tentatively, yes. Might want to clear out of this place, now that I've blown it wide open. Also, if this tin can was supposed to be an example of an Endbringer shelter? I wouldn't trust them."

"Sure, sure," Tattletale nodded. "I'm going to clear out his hard drives and skedaddle."

"Can I trust you not to skedaddle off to Bermuda?" I asked and the blonde turned a, of course, foxy grin on me. "Right. Silly question. It's like handing the fox the keys to the henhouse."

Tattletale pouted. "Don't be like that. I'll be around. You owe me too many answers for me to just skip town without them."

"Uh huh," I said doubtfully. "Come on," I gestured to Weaver, leading her back outside.

"We're just letting them go?" she asked, and I shrugged.

Looking around, I spotted my bike. "The Undersiders have, so far, filled a moral gray area. They've only stolen from the gangs. Pretty much what we've been doing and were planning to do more of, just without the 'busting the gangs as we do it' part and claiming the funds as spoils of war."

Sliding onto the bike, I started it and waited for Weaver to get on behind me. As I took off, my phone rang and I winced, seeing it was Amy's number. "You're late," she said as soon as I picked up.

"Sorry Amelia, Weaver and I had a run-in with the Undersiders that spilled over into taking out their boss," I explained.

Amy sighed. "Who died?"

I blinked. "What? What makes you think—"

The healer scoffed. "Because it's happened twice."

"That," I started, before drawing a blank. "Just a coincidence." Before she could say any more, I cut her off. "We'll be there in a few, so just hang tight. I promise it'll be worth it."

"It'd better," she threatened, before hanging up.

Weaver shook her head. "You have completely ruined my image of her."

Chuckling, I said, "Say hello to the real Amy. Deadpan snarker, no patience whatsoever for your bullshit, and with a martyr complex bigger than yours."

"Hey!" Weaver protested. "I don't have a martyr complex!"

"Look inside yourself. You know it to be true," I grinned. "Also, she's moderately gay. Maybe bisexual. Not sure. Blame her sister."

I could hear the frown as Weaver asked, "What? Glory Girl?"

Nodding, I explained. "Imagine that just as you're hitting puberty and starting to notice other people as something exciting in that special way, someone comes along with an aura that screams 'look at me! Love me! Worship me!' Right at the height of all those hormones flooding your brain and grabbing all your attention like nothing else. It's basically classical conditioning. You can't even really say it's entirely Vicky's fault. She also hasn't told anyone about it, so don't mention it."

"How do you know it?" Weaver asked, and I sighed, then turned on the silencing field around the bike.

"Same way I know the Undersiders by description. Or Lisa by name. Or… how I knew you'd be in that locker, once I convinced myself it was real. Call it time travel bullshit, or a one-shot precognitive power, or knowledge from another Earth—it's a bit of all of the above. Short version: I ain't from around here, I know things I shouldn't, and I'm not even Claire—or not entirely. More like something closer to reincarnation. That day we both triggered, I woke up that morning and remembered being a guy on another Earth. I also knew a lot of bad shit was likely to go down, but some of the details don't quite match up. Armsmaster's suit's supposed to be blue-and-silver but it's inverted here. His Tinker girlfriend is supposed to be a Merchant. And so on. If you want more than that, I'll elaborate when we get home—but I can't go into everything. There are precogs out there that I do not want to cross and it's safer to assume they are always listening—and I don't not intend to fuck with their plans, because that's a ticket straight to an early grave. In fact, we share the same goals and when we're done I just want off this rock, you can have it, so it'd be easier to let me live—"

"Claire." Weaver interrupted, voice sharp and cutting through my mounting panic. "You're rambling."

I shut up and spent the rest of the ride in silence.

When we got to the hospital, we made our way to the elevator, then up to the roof where Amy was waiting. Well, should have been waiting. She had gone back inside and was standing inside the door, playing with her phone. She looked up at our approach. "About time. I was just telling Vicky that I don't need a lift. For the tenth time."

"Sorry again," I sighed.

Amy waved the apology off, putting away her phone. "So, how are we leaving? Did you Tinker a jet or something?"

"Or something." Grinning, I lead Panacea and Weaver outside. I kicked off the ground and Enola took that as her cue, setting me to hover a few feet up.

Looking over me speculatively, Amy shot a look to Weaver and shook her head. "You're way too small to carry us both."

"Enola. Enable neural interface and set registered users."

The VI's voice chimed across the air between us. "Done."

Eying me warily, Amy asked, "Claire, what are you—"

"Engage flight mode. Follow on me."

I shot up off the helipad, jumping from zero to one hundred in about two seconds. There was much screaming from just below me and I laughed, taking us up and pulling through a few loops, turns and tight maneuvers.

"Oh shit, oh shit, I'm going to die, let me down! Claire let me down~!" Amy shrieked.

Weaver made a high pitched, barely audible keening noise but was otherwise silent.

"Calm down, you big babies. We're only just into triple digits. Open your eyes, look around!" I instructed, still climbing above the city as I banked us and presented an amazing view of Brockton Bay at night. "Your sister and cousins get to see this whenever they want, Amy. Don't you want that for yourself?"

The screaming stopped and I looked them over in my third person camera. Neither of them had passed out yet. Amy stared wide eyed at the city below. I took it as a good sign.

Picking out a good piece of sky a couple thousand feet up, I brought us to a hover. "Okay, Enola hand off control. Ladies, it's all you now. I've tried to make flight controls as intuitive as I can, but tell me if something comes—"

Amy moved, launching herself at me. Her speed was well below anything that would actually hurt, so I didn't bother moving—Enola would recover for both of us if she sent us tumbling. A moment later, I had an armful of curly-haired, laughing brunette. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you!" And then there were lips on mine.

I froze.

Amy froze.

Weaver choked on a laugh.

Amy pulled back wide-eyed. "Um. I didn't—I mean, I don't. Uh. Fuck."

I rolled my eyes as Amy flew away. I let her get a few hundred yards away before deciding to fix this before it got weird. "Alright, that's enough. Bring her back."

"Yes, Master," Enola confirmed, and a moment later a protesting Amy slowed to a stop in front of us.

Amy closed her eyes and crossed her arms, a stubborn look on her face. "That didn't happen."

"Sure," I agreed. "If that helps you sleep at night."

"It will!" Amy growled.

"Besides, you're not my type," I shrugged.

Amy's eyes popped open and narrowed into a glare at me. "What is your type?"

"Older. Blonde. Athletic. Nice tits. Cute face. Friendly," I listed off.

Amy's frown turned rueful. "You just described Aunt Sarah."

"Yes. Yes I did. She's right in my strike zone," I nodded, smiling.

"Pervert," Amy sighed.

I nodded again. "I told you, dirty old man trapped in a young girl's body. Now then, I come bearing more gifts." I didn't bother opening the pouch at my side, instead I just unclipped the belt and handed the whole thing over—it was not a fanny pack, and I would deny it to the death if someone asked. I bought it in a milsurp store, damnit.

"Do I want to know?" Amy asked.

"Computers," I explained. "They'll be going on sale soon, but I figured since I owe you guys and we're friends…" I shrugged. "Your watch does the same thing. Enola can explain it when you get home."

Humming, Amy asked, "And what was it you said about talking shop."

I nodded my head towards Weaver. "She's a Master. Controls pretty much anything with a brain smaller than a human. You, Amy, are not a healer—you're a bio-Tinker and we both know it." Amy frowned. "I know you feel the itch and being denied for this long must drive you nuts. I promise, Tinker something and you'll feel better."

"I'm not going to become another Nilbog or Bonesaw—"

I cut her off, my tone sharp, "No. You won't. Because you're in control, and regardless of what you think… or what your mom has led you to believe," Amy's eyes went wide as I voiced something she'd likely only recently realized, "you're a good person, Amelia."

"But I thought you and my mom were friends," she muttered, a confused expression crossing her face.

"Carol's great at what she does and I like her. I think she tolerates me, because I'm young, tiny, and moderately sympathetic what with being an orphan and the system shitting on me, plus I'm spunky and I think she likes it. I'm neither blind nor stupid, however—she's a hardass with trust issues, and you…" I trailed off. "No, I shouldn't say."

'This is bait,' I mused as I dangled it in front of her.

"What? Say what?" Amy demanded.

Sighing, I turned to Weaver. "Hey, uh… why don't you head back first? I'll get the bike and catch up later."

Weaver shrugged. "I was starting to feel like a third wheel anyway."

"Oh, quit your bitching. I'm trying to talk Amy into making you toys. We just… got sidetracked," I admitted.

Casting a look between us, Weaver nodded. "Okay." Her voice turned excited as she added, "Besides, it'll give me some time to just… fly. Oh this is going to be awesome. Thanks, Claire!"

"Yeah, yeah. Much tech, many good times. I'll take a kiss in payment," I waved her off. Weaver shot off at her top speed after flipping me off and I waited until she disappeared before turning back to Amy. "Are you sure you want me to open Pandora's box for you?" When she took on that mulish look I had become familiar with, I sighed. "Alright then. You didn't hear this from me."

"Fine. Just get on with it," Amy demanded.

Frowning, I considered how to break the news to her for a moment. "First, a bit of a history lesson. Do you know what Carol and Sarah's trigger event was?" Amy shook her head. "If I recall correctly, they were taken hostage. And of course, Stockholm's kicked in. Then the kidnappers decided to execute the prisoners. Sarah… well, I won't say she got over it, but she copes pretty well, I think. Carol does not. Saying she has 'trust issues' is like saying the sun is a little hot. Carol doesn't trust. Period. She tolerates people, or she doesn't. There are exactly two people she trusts, and even Sarah isn't on that list. She trusts herself—"

"And Vicky," Amy finished, and I wagged a hand back and forth in a so-so gesture.

"More history. It took Sarah getting knocked up before Carol finally decided to have kids. You can imagine how hard it was to let someone like Mark get close enough for the acts required just to produce Vicky," I explained, and she nodded. "Part of why Mark is so depressed is that his wife doesn't love him. She tolerates him—she may even be fond of him. There's probably more, but they're just my suspicions and I can't prove them."

The brunette across from me frowned. "Claire, please stop that shit. If you're not going to explain something, don't bring it up. I want to hear it, even if it's just an educated guess. I need to know why my family is… why it's broken and I can't fix it."

I groaned externally. Internally, I… almost regretted being a manipulative bitch. And then I remembered the cluster fuck that was canon, what Amy could become, and convinced myself it was safer to disarm this bomb now, before it went off later.

"Okay. Fine. Short dip down this rabbit hole then back to the other one. Your mom's power is hardlight weapons and a Breaker form. Your aunt's power is flight, shields, and laser beams. Your—Mark's—power is basically hardlight explosives, right?" Amy nodded. "Neil's power is energy manipulation. Powers pass from parent to child and generally express the same way. You're a bio-Tinker. You know genetics better than anyone. You know how heritable traits work."

"Yes…" she trailed off.

"Explain Vicky. Flight, shield, a Master/Shaker emotional manipulation power, and 'super strength' that's really more along the lines of… tactile telekinesis via forcefield manipulation. Not a Breaker form. Not hardlight anything," I concluded. As understanding slowly began to dawn, I went in for the kill. "Why does your sister have your cousins' powers?"

"Oh my God."

"Yeah, well, it's just a theory." I had always wondered if Wildbow had lost track of his characters at one point when designing Vicky. The real-world explanation was a bit easier to believe—that Carol had cheated on Mark. It followed then that Mark's depression was because he had his own suspicions, had likely figured out the power heritability thing, and come to the conclusion that neither of his children were really his—even if one of them was sort of by choice. "And back to what I was saying."

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair and gave up trying to softball it. "Fuck it. You were born Amelia Claire Lavere. You were adopted. That's why you've got biokinesis and everyone around you has other stuff."

"I figured out I was adopted years ago," Amy sighed. "Nice to know my real name, though. You're going to tell me how you know, eventually. Anything else?"

I winced. "Yeah," I nodded slowly.

"Hit me."

Sighing, I ripped off the band-aid. "Your dad was Marquis. Your mom gave you to him for one reason or another. Carol started to like him—he was handsome, charismatic, had that bad boy charm supposedly. He was also not terrible, for a villain. She couldn't stand for it. Reminded her too much of her trigger event. That's why your mom convinced New Wave, then the Brockton Bay Brigade, to violate the unwritten rules and attack him in his home. Your dad went down protecting you from Carol and the others.

"They found you and he asked them to take care of you, to take you as their own, because without him there he knew that if anyone found out who your real father was, you'd either be snapped up by a gang or killed by someone out for revenge. Mark loves you, but you're not his and he probably suspects Vicky isn't either, and his wife doesn't love him on top of that—thus depression. Maybe also with a side of power-fuckery.

"Carol… Carol rides your ass, because she's afraid that nature will trump nurture. All she sees when she looks at you, all she can ever see, is where you came from—not the good you've done. It'll never be enough, because she doesn't trust you. Can't. She only trusts herself and Vicky, and Vicky only because Vicky came from her—she doesn't even see your sister as her own person, capable of making her own decisions. Not really.

"I respect Carol. I am grateful for everything she's done for me. I love her family almost like they were my own, because you guys have gone above and beyond for me. But I don't kid myself. As I said, she tolerates me, and the minute I step out of line that will change in a heartbeat. Even knowing what she does about me, even having seen the video of what really happened with Hess, I bet she feels conflicted—worried that one day, I'm going to turn on her and Vicky. I won't, but there's no way I can convince her of that. Well, I say I won't, because by telling you all of this, I kind of already have."

Taking a deep breath, I asked, "And do you know why?" When Amy shook her head, I answered, "Because I trust you, Amelia. Snark, bad attitude, Marquis' daughter, bio-Tinker, and all. I owe Carol my freedom, but I owe you my life."

Amy had drifted slightly away, looking down at the city to avoid looking at me. Or maybe to avoid me looking at her. I wasn't a mind reader. "Jesus, Claire. Mixed signals much? You say I'm not your type, then you come out and say that."

I palmed my face. "That is what you take from everything?"

"Well, it's either focus on that or break down right here and now. I'd rather save it for the privacy of my own bedroom," she admitted.

Sighing, I said, "You do know that jumping from Vicky to me isn't healthy?"

Scoffing softly, she muttered, "Of course you know that too. What, are you a Thinker too?"

"Something like that," I shrugged. "Look, I'm not judging you for it. You're not related and Vicky's hot. Straight, though. Also, way too high-strung and spoiled for my tastes. I feel sorry for Dean. Carol's basically ruined her. She's never been told 'no,' has she? Never been told 'this is how it's going to be' and given no other choice in something."

"You have no idea," Amy sighed. "So, you don't think I'm a monster?"

I moved around her until I'd forced her to look at me. "If you are, that's fine too." I sighed, shaking my head. "Look, I'm bad at this, okay. I can't say it any better than just telling you to be you, and to hell with what anyone else thinks."

Nodding slowly, Amy began moving away. "I should get home."

"Sure," I agreed. "Just don't tell Carol. Anything. She won't just shit a brick, she'll shit an entire brick shithouse that makes other, smaller brick shithouses."

Amy snorted before covering her mouth. "God, that's awful."

"Oh, and Amy?" She paused. "I lied. Curvy brunettes of legal age are in my strike zone too. So, in a few years, if you're still interested—"

Turning around, green eyes dancing with mirth—and if they were a bit puffy, I ignored it—she put on a smirk that would fit better on Tattletale's face. "Sixteen is legal in New Hampshire. My birthday was last month."

I blinked. "Well fuck. I just walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Yup," she nodded. "Night, Claire."

"Night, Amy," I called after her retreating form.

Breathing a heavy, exhausted sigh, I set a course for the hospital to get my bike.

I was warm and comfortable. A hand stroked through my hair and fingers brushed my scalp. I really didn't want to get up, but something about this seemed wrong.

Turning on my third person view, I found Amy sitting on the edge of my bed in plainclothes, as opposed to costume. She was playing with my hair. "Nng," I groaned. "Amy. You know this is creepy, right?"

"You said it didn't bother you."

I noticed she didn't stop her playing, either.

Sighing, I tilted my head and cracked one eye to look at her directly—her green eyes locking on my single exposed gold. "It doesn't bother me. But it is creepy," I pointed out. Stretching out in a huge yawn, followed by a groan as something in my lower back popped, I rolled over and sat up. "Not that I'm complaining, or kicking you out, but why are you here?"

A look I couldn't place crossed the brunette's face. "I woke up and I just… couldn't take any more. Couldn't stand to look at Vicky or Carol. I packed a bag and told them I was going to spend a few days at a friend's house. Vicky tried to catch me." She smiled. "I was faster. I lost her in the city. You should have seen the look on her face. I asked Enola to bring me to you." Glancing down, Amy asked, "I thought we were going to stop meeting like this?"

I looked down. I seemed to vaguely recall something about promising to never sleep naked again, but I was tired last night and habit took over. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. "To be fair, this is my room. Well, at least they're worth looking at. Not as big as your sister, but they're perky. Shut up. I enjoy them." A bit of mental prodding got me a hardlight shirt and shorts. "If you're staying, I hope you brought a change of clothes."

"Why?" Amy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rolling out of bed, I began digging exercise clothes out of my dresser. "Because Taylor and I have an exercise plan. If you're here, you're joining."

"But I'm a healer," Amy pointed out.

I cut off the projections and started pulling on actual clothes. "What's that you said? 'I'm a healer, so work my ass twice as hard?' Well, if you insist."

The deer-in-the-headlights look that crossed her face at that was priceless.

"Move that ass, Amelia!" I yelled at Amy, drawing a groan from the healer. "If you've got breath to bitch, you've got enough for another block."

"Quit bitching. She'll just make us run more," Taylor warned.

"I'm. A. Healer!" Amy huffed.

I shot her ass with a low-powered force laser, making her yelp. "Yeah, you're a healer. What are you going to do if the threat comes for you and you don't have a convenient flying brick to put in front of it? Say 'sorry, I don't run, I'm a healer?' Ask them to please chase you slower? Wait for them to get into hand to hand range and try to knock them out?" When she was silent aside from panted breaths, I said, "Your enemy is non-biological. Tireless. It will kill you if it catches you and you can't hide from it. But it only moves ten miles an hour. How much time can you buy, hoping someone comes to save you? Right now, not much."

"Hate. You."

I nodded. "Good. Or you could, you know, stop running. Stop trying to buy time and put that big, beautiful brain to use. Think your way out, Amy."

Her reply was a huffed, "Don't. Know."

"That's the problem with Tinkers. They require prep time. But give one of us enough time? We can move the world. Think on it. What kinds of things you can make to keep you safe. What can you make to give someone trying to hurt you a very bad day if they insist," I instructed, before shifting my focus to Taylor. "And don't think I've forgotten about you. You owe me a sitrep. What's going on around us?"

Surprisingly, even after I warned her what the rest of her day would look like, Amy didn't quit. She just hit the shower before I could, with something approaching a death glare at me. "Enola, make a note: Tinker sonic showers for personal use."

"Noted," the VI responded.

As I was moving into the kitchen, she piped up again. "Master, you have a guest."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Who?"

"Tattletale, in her civilian identity," the VI responded.

Dropping into a chair at the kitchen table, I groaned quietly. "Fine. Let her in and show her up."

A familiar head of blonde hair, pulled into a plain ponytail, soon entered the kitchen and sat down opposite me. "I come bearing gifts."

"Where have I heard that before? Something about bewaring Greeks?" I asked, but accepted the cup and donut she offered. "This better not be coffee."

"Hot chocolate," Lisa answered, sipping at her own cup, which smelled like coffee. "Where's your partner?"

I shrugged. "Shower. Speaking of, Enola. Make sure Weaver's got her mask on when she comes out."

"Hmm," Lisa hummed, leaning back in her chair. "Female. Tall. Our age… no, a bit younger. Freshman or sophomore—sophomore, definitely. Someone you knew at school… knew of. Recent trigger based on sightings. Showed up around the time you did. No, the same time. The exact same time. Shared trigger event? You triggered at Winslow in an incident involving Shadow Stalker, aka Sophia Hess, whom you later killed. A second, unnamed girl was involved. Also triggered. Weaver. Second murder attributed to Stalker that night, Daniel Hebert, head of the Dockworkers Association. She's his daughter."

Shooting Lisa a flat look, I sipped my hot chocolate. "Feel better now, Sarah?"

Lisa froze. "Right. Warning received. You escalate quickly. I'll try to behave."

"Hah. No. Taylor is the queen of escalation. I've got nothing on her," I denied. "And if you push her buttons, she'll come down on you like a ton of bricks."

"So, changing the subject," Lisa grinned. "What should our first act as partners be?"

Frowning, I considered it a moment. Lisa now had access to Coil's resources, money, and… "Is Fortress Construction still a thing?"

"Not really. Calvert liquidated many of those assets. I still have most of the heavy equipment sitting around, but that's because he was paranoid and wanted to be ready if Brockton Bay was ever hit by an Endbringer," Lisa answered readily. "Why?"

Footfalls hurrying down the hall cut off my answer and I turned to find Taylor, in her mask, tee-shirt, and shorts, coming our way. "What's she doing here?"

Standing up, I downed the last of my hot chocolate and offered Taylor my seat. "Helping. Don't bother with the mask, she already worked out who you are—it's not exactly secret to anyone who bothers to look, apparently. I'm going to go take a shower. Lisa, tell Taylor what assets you have available—heavy machinery and financial. Taylor, figure it out and come to a decision." Walking away, I paused just outside the kitchen. "Oh, and Taylor? That last coffee and donut are for Amy. Cook yourself some eggs."

"Fucker!"

Chuckling—I did not giggle, goddamnit—I ducked into the shower.

"So let me see if I've got this straight."

I made a rolling 'go on' motion with my hand.

"We're getting access to way more money, all the equipment we could ever need or want, and not one but two Tinkers?" Kurt asked, and I nodded. "And the only holdup is convincing Taylor that it's a good idea."

Taylor nodded. "Pretty much. I mean, it sounds good, but you know how that goes, Uncle Kurt."

"Don't I know it," he muttered. Turning what was almost a glare onto Lisa—who had opted for a simple domino mask to protect her identity—he asked, "Why do you want to help us?"

Shrugging, Lisa answered, "I don't. Not really. I'd be happy taking the money and going somewhere warm and sunny for the rest of my life. I'm not like Claire here." Grinning at me, she continued. "While I was forced into it, I did grow to enjoy it. I like being a villain. The risk, the excitement, the reward of pulling off an amazing score. I just limit myself to acceptable targets. I don't care much about this city or most of the people in it."

"Not really selling me on this," Taylor frowned.

"You wanted honest, I'm being honest," Lisa pointed out. "And all of that said… It's more money than I could spend in a lifetime, even if I tried really hard. A lot of that stuff is just sitting there going to waste, too. And as little as I like this city, I hate Coil more. Putting his resources to work fixing this city would make me a very happy girl. On the legal side, I'll hire Dockworkers and provide equipment and material to do whatever we need—including loaning out Chariot to build a new ferry, if that's what you're after. On the… not quite so legal side, I'll lead the Undersiders in stirring up trouble with the gangs. Siphon off their funds, destroy their drugs, that sort of thing. And if someone just happens to catch the capes who will inevitably be sent out after us, so much the better."

"It endangers the city," Amelia pointed out.

Lisa shot her a flat look. "More than it already is?"

Amy opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Finally she conceded the point with a nod. "It's probably a net benefit, yes."

"And hey, if we lead a rage dragon or two through the parts of the docks you don't already have shielded and they knock down or burn buildings that need to be destroyed but whose owners refuse to sell or do anything with them…" Lisa lead.

"I didn't hear that," Kurt deadpanned.

"Just how much of the docks can you buy up, Tt?" I asked. "Without breaking the bank. We don't want to spread you too thin."

"I'd need a computer—"

I walked downstairs, grabbed a cube out of the box to be shipped out today, and came back upstairs. Dropping it on the table before her, I pressed the power button on top. Taking in the hardlight interface, Lisa sighed. "Oh, that is sexy. Give me a few minutes and I'll get you an answer."

As it turned out, the answer was, 'a lot.' About fifty percent, at their current prices. At post-Double Dragon fire sale prices? She could easily take everything with money left over. With Taylor finally onboard at hearing that, I gave Lisa the green light to start buying up as much shoreline as she could, starting with the ferry stations.

"Okay. New assignment. Kurt, get your people to start planting pylons—I'll send you an updated map for today's batch and we'll pay OT if people want to come and pitch in. We need this done before this evening. We're moving on cleanup tonight."