Coil loved everything about the paper fresh from the printer. It was pristine, warm to the touch, and the faint scent of ink clung to it—the only way it could be better was if it were laminated. He'd had the pleasure of working with the printer for most of the afternoon and evening as he collected the Empire's dossiers for review, and he smirked as he turned Purity's dossier over in his hands.

Kayden Anders. 29. Divorcee. Two children: Theo and Aster Anders.

He got shivers—the good kind—the kind that brought a chuckle to the back of your throat—as he imagined the kind of fit she'd throw if her children were taken from her. Coil simply couldn't help himself; months of meticulous information gathering and planning were finally coming together.

The Empire was already in poor form—that much was clear to anyone with two brain cells to rub together. The Empire was good at one thing—the only thing Nazis were good at—looking strong. But, beneath that facade, Coil's moles had enlightened him to the brewing discontent within their ranks. As far as he could tell, Kaiser was the only thing keeping the Empire from falling into infighting and factionalism, and even his position authority wasn't safe from challenge.

And it had only gotten worse since Coil convinced Kaiser into taking the Docks. The Empire was spread thin trying to hold the Docks with the fierce resistance the remnants of the ABB were putting up, and it didn't hurt that some ABB thugs had "found" a cache of guns, ammunition, and other such equipment.

"Enjoy it while you can, Mr. Anders." Coil added Mrs. Anders' dossier to the growing pile on his desk; he'd printed a dozen or so copies of all the Empire's dossiers—just in case.

The desk phone buzzed, pulling Coil's attention from his work, and Pitter's voice sparked to life.

"Coil, sir? Tattletale is here to see you."

An undetectable huff slipped from Coil's lips. He was expecting her, but it was still a shame he had to cut his fun short. Regardless, Coil took the stack of copies, tidied said stack, and hid it away in the paper organizer on his desk—a temporary thing; he'd have the dossiers laminated and in their respective folders by the end of the week.

Coil returned Pitter's call.

"Let her in."

"Yes, sir."

Coil eased himself into his desk chair while the door squeaked open. Tattletale, dressed in a tight black and indigo bodysuit, an indigo cropped denim jacket, and an indigo domino mask, framed her bottle-glass green eyes. She kept an impish grin at almost all times, as far as Coil could tell, but her eyes were hard as he gestured for her to take a seat opposite him.

"What's up?" She asked as she fell into her seat.

"I'll be frank, Ms. Livsey," Tattletale bristled at the sound of her birth name, and her subtle cringing brought a smirk to Coil's face. "I have concerns about your addition to the Undersiders, Skitter."

"What about her?" Tattletale's response was quick and defensive—evidence enough of some kind of guilt, but of what Coil wasn't certain.

"She's Protectorate." His desk drawer whined as Coil fished around for the dossier he'd been building for Skitter. It hit his desk with a loud smack.

Tattletale cautiously eyed him, and then the folder on his desk. She took it with a careful hand, treating the paper folder like a bomb ready to blow at the slightest provocation. Inside, she found the very dossier she'd helped him compile; it wasn't anything special by itself—Skitter was fresh to the Cape scene, and her story wasn't particularly compelling.

Taylor Hebert, 20. She attended Winslow University, was an undergraduate student—an English major—and lived with her father—Danny Hebert. What was interesting were the photos of CCTV footage that caught her and Armsmaster's meetings and the very recent photos of Ms. Hebert in the PRT building, speaking with various Capes and Director Piggot.

"How'd you get these?" Tattletale asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"You've got bigger problems at the moment, Ms. Livsey. Did you know about this?"

Coil had been preparing for this very conversation for a few hours now. In this reality, he and Tattletale would have a pleasant conversation in his office, and in another, she was restrained to a steel chair while he considered what torture implement he'd open with.

"No. I didn't." She answered.

He broke her finger in the other reality. The same answer.

"I doubt that."

It was such a fascinating thing to see both realities running parallel to one another. In the other reality, the dull snap of Tattletale's index finger breaking echoed in his ears, and in this one, she sat unharmed, staring him down with hard eyes.

"I've been occupied; I didn't have the time to keep a close eye on Skitter."

Again, the very same answer exists in both realities. Good enough.

"Fair enough." Coil conceded. He had been keeping her busy, but he'd like it if Tattletale was even half as good at multitasking as he was.

"What're you going to do?"

Coil considered Tattletale's question for a moment. He could kill Ms. Hebert, but that would draw far too much attention to the Undersiders and himself. One spy could become two, two could become four, four could become eight, and so on. Not just in the Undersiders but in other areas, and Coil didn't have the patience to move any slower than he already was. Not when he was so close.

"Leave it be. I can easily work around it, but I'd offer you some advice, Ms. Livsey. Try to be more careful. With Dinah in my hands, you're towing a fine line between asset and liability."

"A liability?" Tattletale almost sounded offended at the prospect.

"Yes. A liability. Dinah… Well, how do I put this gently? She renders you obsolete—almost. And Mr. Lynch is a far more agreeable intermediary than yourself, yet you've built a rapport with the Undersiders where he hasn't. Both of them are more trustworthy."

"The hired killer is more trustworthy than me? He's only loyal to his next paycheck. How do you know he won't turn on you?"

"Do you think I'm stupid, Ms. Livsey?" Coil injected his voice with as much menace as he could. It was one thing to question his decisions, but he couldn't let her continue to question his intelligence. It was an insult for her to even consider he hadn't given the question of Lynch's loyalty any thought. "Mr. Lynch's loyalty lies with whoever pays the most, yes, and that is exactly why he's more agreeable than you."

His office fell into silence. Tattletale fixed him with an uneasy glare, and Coil considered dragging the conversation further so he could continue the concurrent reality—continue to enjoy watching her cry and plead while he broke her fingers. But he had things to do, and he didn't have the patience to humor Tattletale's hissy fit any longer than he needed to. He'd make his point and be done with it.

"You're on thin ice, Ms. Livsey, but you can still be useful. Just remember that you're no longer a necessity to my goals." Coil turned his attention back to the dossiers he'd hidden away in his paper organizer, dismissing Tattletale with a curt wave as he pulled them from their shelf. "Now, get out of my office."