Author's Note: Big thanks to Two Pence for beta reading and keeping me from making some narrative mistakes.

ooOoo

A short while after my dad had mistaken being a power-abusing bullshit bully with being a parent, I was forced to waste my time begging for a favor from a bunch of rich people who'd never used a penny of their money to actually help anybody, instead of doing something that might actually make the world a bit better. I hoped he was happy.

"This has got to be a joke," said the rude bank representative over the phone. "Do you really think you can get a loan after what you did?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Tattletale. "I get it. We robbed Brockton Bay Central. But it's not like it was even your bank, so why the fuck do you even care? If anything, I helped you by wiping out a competitor."

"You robbed a bank," said the banker, as if we hadn't heard him the first time. "And now you want a loan?"

"We can pay you back double," said Tattletale. "Triple. This is the easiest slam dunk you'll ever get. You know we've got Panacea on our side right? Do you need to talk to her?"

"No I don't need to fucking talk to her," said the parsimonious banker. "Because frankly it doesn't matter. You robbed a bank. Actions have consequences-"

"It was to lure out Oni Lee," I said. "A purely military operation. We can return the money if you want."

The banker's scared little gasp told me all I needed to know. He was so horrified at the prospect of working with us that even the notion of us resolving his little hangup terrified him.

"Maybe it was a mistake," said Tattletale. "Maybe not. Oni Lee was after our heads, so we didn't have much of a choice. Either way, think about what we're trying to do. Use Panacea to create a breed of cattle with human hearts, lung, livers- all the organs which are in short supply. We've already got experienced personnel from Japan who have worked on farms which produced wagyu beef. We've got the technical know-how to pull this off. We could make billions and give parahumans a new blueprint- mix capes and capitalism- tell me that doesn't warm your little banker heart. Do you want to help us save the world, or do you want to hang onto old grudges?"

"You robbed a bank," said the banker. "All the fancy words in the dictionary won't change that. You will never get a loan."

He hung up. He was an asshole, but he wasn't wrong. We'd already been denied by a dozen banks, and we spent the rest of the afternoon being denied by a dozen more. Luckily the schools were still closed due to Bakuda wiping Arcadia off the map. A whole lot of staff and students were being shifted around, borders were being redrawn, and security was being rethought. It had bought me the time I needed to get our humanitarian projects off the ground, but eventually the schools would have to start again. We didn't have forever to do this.

It was funny. Creating a breed of livestock with human organs would be relatively simple according to Panacea, and we already had access to the personnel we needed to get the project going. All we needed were a few people who believed in us. But we couldn't do it because the people in charge didn't like me- wouldn't even give me a chance. TIME had called me the next Jack Slash because I'd let a few dozen people die in a military operation, but the bankers could let a few million die out of pettiness and it was just business. Probably because the bankers had the journalists on their payroll. In the end, just like everything else, right and wrong- even merit- none of it mattered. All that mattered was power, whether it came in the form of money or popularity.

Actually… I had power now didn't I?

Couldn't I just force them to give me a loan? Rob, intimidate- whatever I needed to do to get the operation off the ground. It might even be the right thing to do. Who was I kidding, it would definitely be the right thing to do. Dad wouldn't like it, but I'm sure the woman who'd die in a week without a heart transplant would appreciate that I'd been willing to dirty my hands to do what was obviously right.

But how many people could I save if I were forced to move to some hick town in the middle of nowhere? My hands were tied thanks to Dad's stupid ultimatum. It had probably already cost around a dozen people their lives, but I suppose that's what happened when the people in charge were forced to make decisions based on the laymen's dim sensibilities. The fact that TIME had gotten record numbers after their atrocity of an article about me was all the proof I needed that the average person should never be allowed to influence public policy.

We changed our approach the next day. We brainstormed a list of the wealthiest people in Brockton Bay instead of trying to appeal to corrupt banks.

"Whoever owns Medhall," I said. It felt right as soon as I'd said it.

Tattletale winced. "We should probably try our other options first. Trust me."

"It's the largest corporation in Brockton Bay," I said. "And it specializes in medicine."

"I'm not saying no," said Tattletale. "But they have some skeletons in their closet. And no I'm not telling you what."

Funny. I felt like we'd been hearing those same words about ourselves for days. Business was business, if this venture succeeded millions would be saved, what did it matter if Medhall weren't a bunch of choir boys?

We reached out to some of the wealthiest people in Brockton Bay, but were turned down for a variety of reasons. A few agreed that our idea probably had some merit, but were afraid of the public perception. Many had standing policies against working with capes: villains, heroes, independents, it didn't matter. They thought we were dangerous, especially because if we decided we didn't want to pay back our loan there wasn't a whole lot they could do about it. Excuses. They just wanted to keep us down.

I was beginning to understand why so few capes went commercial with their powers. The entire system was rigged against us. Maybe Tattletale had been right all along, we were the local sports team. The media could slander me all they liked, but they needed someone to play the villain. We weren't supposed to step out of our role, and the next Jack Slash certainly wasn't supposed to help more people than the so-called heroes. It was all a game to them.

"It's an interesting idea and I'm glad you called," said Roy Christner, the mayor who'd helped run our fine city into the ground. "It's impossible. Not from a technical standpoint, but politically and legally. I'm sure you're aware of the dozens of laws that are in place to prevent tinkers from creating anything that self replicates?"

Tattletale nodded. "But those are to prevent plagues. Cattle can't reproduce quickly enough for the law to be relevant."

"The law is anything that self replicates, it doesn't matter how quickly," said the mayor. "That's not a careless oversight, the wording is intentional. I've got some sources in the Protectorate. I know they won't budge on this. You go through with this project and everyone involved is getting kill orders. You'll probably be safe, but they'll airstrike your ranch, and execute whoever is ignorant enough to partner with you."

Tattletale smirked. "You sure seem to know a lot about the Protectorate. How?"

"You're trying to do a good thing," said the mayor. "I saw the footage of the Slaughter at Immaculata, Bakuda's wave of… bombs. Vista. Clockblocker. Assault… Triumph. They'd be dead if you hadn't stepped in. I know that deep down you want to help people. I can never say this publicly, but thank you. I wish this project could succeed, I really do. If it were just a matter of lawyers, of money, I'd get them for you. It's not."

"This isn't about a plague is it? It's because it threatens the Protectorate's purpose isn't it," said Tattletale, her smirk growing sharp. "It's true purpose."

The mayor sighed. "It's true purpose? You're smart, but you're still a kid. You see the tip of the iceberg and think yourself so clever that you miss that you're still not seeing 90% of the picture. How many capes do you see commercializing their powers in anything close to the scale you're talking about? There are plenty who could, most tinkers for example. But none of them ever do. The Protectorate is powerful, but they're not that powerful. Actually… Maybe there is an example of somebody who tried to use their power constructively…"

"Alexandria?" I asked. Hadn't she formed the Protectorate to take on the Endbringers?

The vulpine smile slid off Tattletale's face. "No… Not Alexandria… Sphere. Now known as Mannequin. He tried to build a colony on the moon… Then… Then… She got him. But he was trying to escape the earth, that's what brought her. We're not… It wouldn't…"

"Whether it would or wouldn't is irrelevant," said the mayor. "The Protectorate thinks it will. What do you think would happen if Panacea fell under her control? You go through with this and you'll be dealing with the Triumvirate if you're lucky. If you're unlucky, you'll be wishing you were dealing with the Triumvirate. That's why I'm telling you to stop."

"He believed every word he said," said Tattletale as soon as she hung up. "And… My power agreed with him, with the Protectorate… We can't go through with it."

"We can," I said. "We have to."

"You're talking about summoning an Endbringer," said Grue.

"That's just conjecture, but yeah it'll be dangerous. So what? Taking on a bully is always dangerous," I said. "You will get hurt. Your friends will get hurt. A lot of innocent people will get hurt. But the question isn't about right and wrong. We both know what's right. The question is whether you can still do what's right even when it's hard? When it might just kill you. I know my answer. Do you know yours?"

"This isn't just a bully," said Grue. "This isn't even Behemoth or Leviathan… Taylor, we're talking about the Simurgh."

"Just another bully," I said. "That's why the Protectorate will never win. They gave in to her. You give a bully an inch they'll take a mile. If the mayor is right, they're already collaborating with her, even if they haven't realized it yet."

"There are… worse things than being a victim," said Grue. "They say she turns people into monsters."

"I'd rather be a monster than a victim," I said coldly. Never again. I wouldn't let it happen ever again. "This isn't a discussion. You agreed to help me take out the villains in Brockton Bay. You back out, and we're back to being enemies. You know how I deal with them. Tattletale, call Medhall."

"Tay… They say she can see the future… Perfectly…" said Tattletale. "You can't fight someone like that."

"Watch me." I stared at Tattletale levelly. "Call Medhall."

"Do it," said Panacea. "If I trust anyone to beat an Endbringer, it's Everywhere."

"This is a really, really bad idea," said Tattletale, as she dialed up their CEO. "Can you hear her screaming too, or is it just me?"

I took the phone from her. "It's just you."

"This is Max Anders, how did you get this number?"

"This is Everywhere," I said. "I'd like to discuss a potential business partnership."

The line was silent for a moment. "A partnership with the Undersiders? Why should I risk the reputation of my company for a gang of barbaric murderers? Convince me."

I explained the plan.

"Interesting," said Anders. "It has potential, but let me be blunt. Your offer is terrible and I don't know a single businessman who would agree to it. I would have to step outside the law, create false trails of where Medhall is getting the organs, and potentially even shell laboratories. You could destroy me and my entire company with a simple call to the Protectorate. You can always hide behind your masks, but I have no such luxury. You say partnership; I hear domination. That is something I cannot abide by. That said, I have a singularly unique tolerance for risk. Convince me."

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Collateral," said Anders. "Reveal your identity to me. If you ruin my life I ought to be able to return the favor."

I didn't like it, but his logic was sound, and I had a feeling this was the best offer we were going to get. "Dea-"

"I know all your dirty little secrets Max," said Tattletale. "So let's play nice and fair."

"I see," said Anders. "Threats. Intimidation. This has clearly been a farce."

"What if I gave you my identity?" Asked Tattletale.

"I already know your identity, Miss Livsey," said Anders. "How you talked your brother into killing himself. I will hang up the next time I hear your voice. For my own safety, you understand?"

"You're full of shit, Max." Tattletale smirked, but her shoulders were trembling. "You realize I'm trying to help you right? Do you need control that badly?"

"I've clearly struck a nerve," said Anders lightly. "I need assurances that you won't destroy me after you've used me. How is that unreasonable?"

He hadn't hung up.

Tattletale opened her mouth to reply, but I interrupted her.

"No," I said. "Tattletale's right, we're doing you a favor. You're an investor- nothing more. I'm open to business negotiations but that's all. I'm not giving you dirt on any of us. You need this more than we do."

Anders sighed. "You're a real bitch, you know that? Fine. Let's talk business. First the good. Panacea is a singularly unique asset, and your central idea is solid. Now the bad. You're teenagers. Do I trust you to handle an operation of this size? Not at all. You have no experience with logistics, management of personnel, accounting, financial strategy, medical regulations, securing patents and supply chains- all the boring and essential parts of running a business. I've got experience running a billion dollar company, let Medhall handle operations. Your responsibility will be coming to the farm and providing four to five prototypes every quarter. In return, 50.1% of the profits from each organ sold will be given to a bank account of your choice."

Tattletale balked, and I allowed her to take control of the business negotiations. In the end she was able to negotiate the deal up to a 55-45 split. I didn't really get the point, but she'd always struck me as the type who had to prove she was the smartest person in the room.

A few days later I left Brockton Bay for the first time since I'd gone to summer camp in middle school.

"Where are we going?" I asked. "The exit isn't for another thirty miles!"

Tattletale was finally betraying me! I could almost respect the poetic nature of it. The last time I'd left Brockton Bay, my best friend had tur-

"R-E-L-A-X," said Tattletale. "Relax, will ya? We're just taking a little detour for some team building. You told your dad your best friend was taking you to Mount Kineo for the weekend. Can't make you a liar can we?"

The mountain was obscured by conifers, we sped past Bald Cypresses, Atlantic Cedars, and Grand Firs. Not a lot of deciduous trees in New England, at least not near Mount Kineo. The road eventually opened up to a picturesque blue lake with sparkling rippling water. Tattletale parked at a base camp and walked up to a stall and inspected a topographical map of the park's trails.

"This way," said Tattletale. It was about a four mile hike to a cliffside view of the beautiful lake. About a four-hundred foot vertical drop to the water below. Fatal? Probably. I set a stamp about three feet from the drop.

Tattletale must've known that this area would be a strategic asset. We were meeting the Medhall staff on their turf. If Anders had betrayed us to the Protectorate then I could teleport us to the safety of the cliffside in a pinch. If Anders had betrayed us to Faultline or the Empire then I could teleport my enemies off the cliff and let gravity do its thing. Offense and defense all wrapped up in one stamp. The only drawback was that it was useless against fliers and changers.

It was still a good idea. It would have the added benefit of making my kills look like suicide. As long as Tattletale knew their civilian identities I could spam this method of execution and frame it as suicide indefinitely. That would help me avoid triggering one of Dad's hippy-dippy hissy fits.

After Dad got over his bullshit power trip preventing me from doing what was necessary to put my home in order, I could start putting stamps on top of Brockton Bay skyscrapers. How many villains would stay in the business when they saw the other bullies taking five hundred foot swan dives into concrete?

I nodded at Tattletale. "Good job."

Tattletale frowned. "Right… That was the idea, but…"

"It's a beautiful view," said Panacea. "But we really do need to get to the farm quickly. This might take some time. It won't be as simple as what I normally do. Changing the organs will be easy, but I'm also going to have to change the blood-type so the organs don't get rejected. I'm also going to have to change the genetic code in the eggs of the cows, and probably even more fundamental genetics in the testes and sperm. Maybe that would be a better way of doing this? Wouldn't it be better if we modified eggs and sperm, and sold those? Then I could make sure that the cows were sterile and couldn't reproduce without me. It would give us leverage in the future. That's how US firms sell genetically modified crops to Africa. If we don't have control of the seeds what's to stop Medhall from turning on us?"

I nodded along.

"Nah," said Tattletale. "Medhall won't betray us. Not when it would mean war with who they've identified as the next Slaughterhouse. Besides, you'd burn out making all those changes. Today's goal is just gonna be to give one cow transplantable organs. Proof of concept."

"Tattletale's right," I said. "We need to focus on building up our credibility as soon as possible, prove to people we're different than Lung and Kaiser."

"And we need the money now," said Grue. "Great as it would be to control supply, if we want to continue to control the ABB we need some funds right now. Otherwise the gang we're supposedly running will dissolve into a hundred small criminal operations, and crime in the docks will be worse than it ever was under Lung."

It took us about an hour to get to Medhall's farm. It wasn't as large as I'd expected, and I hadn't seen any cows in the flat grasslands we'd driven by. We parked next to a small old-timey house with peeling red paint. There was a barn, a small garden of half-grown corn stalks, and about a dozen parked cars in the lawn in front of the house.

Max Anders greeted us by the front porch.

"So you're Everywhere," said Anders. "I thought you'd be taller."

"And I thought you'd be smarter," I said. He should have had more men. In his position, I'd have brought at least a hundred.

He'd only brought about a dozen men with him, all armed with automatic rifles. I was more concerned with the two men without weapons. Capes. At least he'd had half a brain then.

"Can you blame me for being careful?" Asked Anders.

I glanced at Tattletale. "How many?"

Tattletale held up one finger and pointed at a tree in the distance. So that's where he was hiding the sniper. Grue put up a wall of darkness directly in his sightline. One failsafe. Regent was the other. When the sniper pulled the trigger, he'd spasm and twitch and somehow never find his mark.

I'd teleport the rifles of his associates away first, then kill them with the cliffside portal if they were stupid enough to rush me. Then I'd deal with the capes while Tattletale took care of Anders. And in the end we'd have Panacea use her powers to make his death look like a heart attack. It would be an easy fight, but that was assuming that Anders didn't have anyone in reserve.

If Anders really wanted to go against us he'd have brought in the Protectorate. Maybe they were all hiding in the barn. If I had an active stamp on me, I'd be able to sense any traps. Unfortunately I had one active stamp within the Protectorate and another near the cliffside. I didn't want to burn either unless I had to.

I wasn't totally helpless. I had a handgun in the pouch of my loose gray sweater.

"We didn't come here to talk," I said. "If I don't see a cow in front of me in the next five minutes we're leaving."

The longer we had to stay on high alert the more it favored our opponents.

Anders nodded at one of his henchmen. Not a cape, just a common footsoldier with a rifle. "Paranoid much? I suppose that's wise considering you've turned every major faction in Brockton Bay against you. Get the lady her cow."

"No, not him," I said. I pointed at an ugly unarmed man with greasy shoulder-length blonde hair. "You. Bring us the cow."

"You'd be wise to treat your allies with more respect," said Anders.

"Four minutes," I said, yawning, tapping my wrist.

"I ain't no slave," said the blonde man, folding his arms. "I ain't scared of you, bitch. You want a fight, you got one."

"Brad," said Anders. "Not over this. Bring the lady her cow."

He did. Panacea got to work, mumbling to herself, and Anders slid next to me smoothly.

"I'd like to talk to you privately," he said. "Man to man."

"Tattletale's in charge of business operations," I said.

"I'm aware. You're the one I need to talk to," he said.

"Grue," I said. "Can you cover us?"

Grue nodded, and just like that the only Anders and I were alone in a bubble of silence and darkness.

"Rotate sixty degrees clockwise," I said.

Anders nodded, and we scrambled our positions for his sniper.

"What has Tattletale told you about me?" Anders asked.

"That you've got some skeletons in your closet," I said. "But it doesn't matter. Medhall is the largest pharmaceutical company in the state. Whatever your past, we can save millions of lives working together."

"If you want to work with me so badly," said Anders. "Why are you trying so hard to discredit me in front of my men?"

"You were the one who started the power play bullshit," I said. "If you don't want to be treated like a bully, don't act like one."

"You think I have a choice?" Anders asked. "You of all people should know differently. Or did you melt Bakuda on national television for personal enjoyment? Others can be genuine, but people like us need to put on masks. Always confident, always strong, always totally assured of our own righteousness. My men will turn on me the second they see weakness. I'm a realist, I know that I don't have the firepower to fight you. I know that our survival rests on our ability to make this partnership work. I'm on your side, but not all the people in my organization are. They're… Blinded. By pride, by ideology, by delusions of grandeur. People think I control Medhall; Medhall controls me. It always has. Tattletale's right, there are skeletons in my closet, but just know that without me that pile would be ten times bigger. Keep humiliating me, keep humiliating my organization, and there will be war. You'll win, but it'll cost you. Better for both of us, better for Brockton Bay, that we find a way to work together."

"You don't have to act like a bully to get people to respect you," I said. "Why not try to just be a good person? You do that, and we'll have no problems."

Anders sighed. "I'm on your side. I'm trying to prevent war. Want proof? We're both here, we're both trying to make this work, and I've set up this deal so we both need each other for the foreseeable future. It would've been easier to offer you a lump sum, but I've set the deal so we both benefit by working together. I've taken tangible steps towards peace. All I'm asking is that you treat me like an equal rather than a lackey, so I can keep my head, and you don't have to deal with the barbarian that would replace me."

"You're the one starting it," I said, shrugging.

Anders shook his head, chuckling. 'That stubbornness will do you well. Compromise is almost always a mistake. The gratitude it earns is rarely worth the loss of respect it costs. Give an inch and they'll take a mile. If I were in a position of strength as you are, I wouldn't show any mercy either."

"Maybe I could be a little more… Diplomatic," I admitted.

"Thank you," said Anders, dipping his head. By the time Grue uncovered us, Panacea had already finished modifying a dozen cows and two bulls.

"I've made it so their offspring have the potential for every blood type. The descendants will also retain the innards of their parents, so there's really no need to call me again. Don't worry about inbreeding, I've solved that problem," said Panacea, yawning. "But if you turn on us, I'll release a plague meant to target this new breed specifically. It'll wipe them out in minutes, as well as any patients unfortunate enough to have one of their organ implants. Are we done here?"

"Just that?" Anders took a deep breath. "I can't help but notice a certain lack of enthusiasm. It's called compassion fatigue, and it's common in the field. Tell you what, when I find our first patient I'm going to explain who saved them and have them give you a call. I'm going to repeat this every month. I want you to remember how much good we're doing here."

I couldn't see anything wrong with it, so we agreed. A week later we got a call.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," said a little boy.

"Thank you," said the boy's mother, her throat hoarse. "I heard from Mr Anders what you did for us. My dumbass husband's a drinker. He brought it on himself, but… Thank you."

My eyes felt a little heavy. Tattletale choked out a sob, Bitch seemed content, and Grue left the room sniveling. Maybe my team wasn't so bad.

"Cool," said Panacea. She hung up. "I hope we don't have to put up with that shit every month. I do like the seventy grand he sent us though. Maybe he could have led with that instead of the blatant emotional manipulation." She spit out her microwaved cheese steak. "Fuck. I burnt my tongue."

"You did it," I said, handing Tattletale a tissue. "You saved a father. A child still has a parent because of you."

"So you finally trust me? You haven't brought up what Max said about me. Why not?"

"Tattletale," I said. "Let's enjoy this."

I'd proven all the naysayers wrong. Who said capes couldn't be productive? Who said we had to use our powers to destroy? If only the public knew the truth. It wasn't us villains holding capes down, it was their precious Protectorate in their fear of the Simurgh. Where was she? Where oh where was she? Nowhere, that's where. Maybe she could see the future, but that didn't mean she could see every future. She could be beaten.

The Protectorate had no fucking balls. If you wanted to save the world you had to be willing to ruffle some feathers. They'd never be able to beat the Endbringers, I could tell they'd already given up. If I were in charge I'd have capes working together, brainstorming ways their powers might interact, coming up with potential paths to victory. Then maybe…

Maybe if I were in charge, things could be fixed…

When I got home I told Dad about what I'd done. How I'd saved one family, how I was starting a movement that might change how capes operated on a fundamental level. "At least that's what I heard from Lisa."

Dad shrugged. "Sounds like propaganda if you ask me. I know you want to believe she's more than a tyrant, but you shouldn't believe everything you hear. It's easy for unfounded rumors to spread on the streets, but if this were actually true it'd be plastering the front of every headline."

"Why would she even lie about it?" I asked. He was being ridiculous! "And everyone knows that the news is in the pocket of the Protectorate! You just don't want to admit that you were wrong about her!"

"Why would Medhall keep it a secret?" Asked Dad, he held up a hand. "I understand keeping it under wraps until the technology was proven with a test case, but they should be leaking the information to the media right now. I don't care what the law states, neither the Protectorate nor the government would shut down a project which could potentially save millions of lives. Cases like this are the whole point of having a democracy with free speech. The politicians ultimately have to follow the will of the people."

"Yeah," I said. "Well maybe there will be a news leak. Then will you admit you were wrong about Everywhere?"

"Sure, but I'd sooner believe that pigs fly than that Everywhere has changed her stripes." Dad snorted. "It'll never happen kiddo. Everywhere just isn't who you think she is."

If only he knew.

"We should leak the news to the media," I said to Lisa over the phone. "And can you think of any possible uses for giving a pig wings?"

"That would be very, very stupid," said Lisa. Yeah, it probably would be, but it would be nice to have around if I ever made a media announcement. You heard right, Everywhere is saving lives, she's actually a good person, and she can even make pig's fly. Eat that, assholes. "Don't you remember what the mayor told us about summoning the Simurgh?"

Oh right, her.

"He was lying," I said. "He's a politician; it's what he does. My dad knows a woman in the media. I could get this thing rolling, prove that we're not the baby-eating monsters all those corrupt journalists are making us out to be."

"He wasn't lying," said Lisa. "Triumph is his son. You saved his son. He wanted to help you."

I frowned. That couldn't be true.

"He didn't want to help me," I said. "He was just playing mind games. Fucking with us. He'd never have made it as a politician if he didn't do things like that."

"He wanted to help you," said Lisa.

"If he's so benevolent then why is Brockton Bay such a mess?" I asked. "Why hasn't he fixed it?"

"Maybe he's made mistakes," said Lisa. "Or maybe he's just not capable of fixing things."

That… Was possible. I didn't like Principal Blackwell, but the more I learned about our so-called leaders the less impressed I became. I doubted any other principal would have been different. Their job, really, was to offend the least amount of people possible and to keep the richest and most powerful happy. Whatever my dad seemed to think, morality really had little to do with anything. So in a decision between the wealthy, popular Emma Barnes and the poor, friendless Taylor Hebert, I could only conclude that Blackwell had made the right political decision. Because the most powerful positions were never about the job description, it was about gaining and keeping power. Unfortunately popularity and effective leadership weren't always the same thing. They might not even usually be the same thing.

So yeah, the mayor probably couldn't get things done because his job was to win elections, not fix the city, only naive fools like my dad actually believed that. Because fixing the city wouldn't be pretty. It wouldn't make you popular. It wouldn't a good political move.

Afterall, I'd started the job, and my own fucking father hated me for it.

"For what it's worth, I believe him," said Lisa. "The first thing the Simurgh went after was our nukes, and she did go after Sphere. She's suppressing our technology Taylor, everything fits. We know in Earth Aleph that almost everyone has a computer, that most teenagers have a smartphone, and that they're all connected to the internet. Hell, even if you look at their video games, they're almost photorealistic, better than the 32-bit junk we've got. We're a couple decades behind them."

The fuck was a smart phone? Well it probably didn't matter.

"If he was actually telling the truth," I said. "The Simurgh should've come by now. So why hasn't she?"

"That's the million dollar question isn't it," said Lisa.

"It's possible her powers have a weakness," I said. "Maybe she can only see parts of the future? Certain paths? Do we actually know that she sees every possible threat?"

"Or maybe she doesn't care that we're saving lives," said Lisa. "Why did she go after the nukes? Why did she go after Sphere? Is it possible she's just waiting until word gets out about what we've done before she strikes? Underneath it all, the real question is what exactly does ole Simmy want?"

"What are her limits?" I asked. "How can we beat her?"

"We can't risk a fight with her until we've answered all those questions," said Lisa. "We know she hasn't come yet. Maybe that's because she hasn't seen what we're doing or maybe it's because she doesn't care. There's a good chance that if word gets out about what we're doing she comes for us. We're not ready for that battle, you know that. I know you want to be recognized for the work you're doing, but you just can't. Do you want to be seen as a hero, or do you actually want to be one?"

I was starting to get sick of that line.

"Fine." I sighed. "Lisa, let's go catch an earth aleph movie at the Boardwalk. I need to see if they're really twenty years ahead of us."

They were actually. At least according to the movie, every teenager had a smartphone. They were like better versions of the advanced communications device Armsmaster had threatened us with back at Immaculata. And get this, every smartphone had a built in microphone and video recorder. If I'd just been born in a world with smartphones I would have had a much easier life. I could've just recorded Emma and Sophia and that would have been the end of that. Bullying was probably a foreign concept in earth aleph due to smartphones, it was likely why they only had a handful of capes.

Or maybe I was just being misled. Afterall, if you took the movies earth bet produced seriously you'd be running into mustache twirling supervillains committing dastardly deeds every time you went out for a morning jog, so maybe I should be taking the movie with a grain of salt.

I threw a half-full bag of popcorn into the trash.

"Are you sure about this?" Asked Lisa.

"I'm sure," I said. "Maybe I can't claim credit for anything we're doing. But anyone with eyes will realize who the real good guys are after this."

I'd attached a stamp to the bag of popcorn. It would take about a week to make its way to the dump, but once it did I could solve the Docks' literal garbage problem just as easily as I'd solved its metaphorical one.

Then Dad would have to admit that he'd misjudged me. While I loved him and couldn't help but care what he thought of me, I knew that it would be a mistake to let his opinions sway me. He wasn't a cape, nor had he grown up in a system which had had to accommodate them. He could read all the books he liked, but he'd never understand how capes actually thought.

The next day we put the ABB to work with the money we'd made from the initial batch of organ transplants. The children collected garbage strewn about the city, and some men and women started converting an unused playground into a landfill. We'd even gotten Coil in on it, and rented out an excavator on his dime.

Little did he know that underneath the landfill we'd be building a tiny little bunker. A little six by six foot coffin, with a small pipe to the outside world. Tattletale had found a way for Bitch and Panacea to work together to build the compartment during the night. There would be no doors, no entrance, no exit. Impossible to enter or leave.

Well, unless you were somehow teleported into it.

Coil had access to not one but two precognition powers. The first was his own and allowed him to split a timeline and choose the one he preferred. In isolation, it would have been easy to circumvent. Just achieve a certain victory before he thought to split the timeline. In practical purposes that meant getting a stamp on him somewhere that would stick onto him regardless of how many timelines he created.

His underwear, or if we could manage it, a bit of food in his fridge that could settle in his stomach. Tattletale had come up with a plan based on my descriptions of the layout and enemy movements. I knew where he slept, where he went to the bedroom, and when. We'd have to wait a little while longer though. His guard was down, but hadn't been a month ago. If we attacked too early he'd have gotten a fucking retroactive warning a month in the past, dooming our attack of today.

Yeah, that was as unfair as it sounded but that was fighting a precog for you. Not only did you have to beat him, but you had to be sure that you beat him yesterday and tomorrow at the same time, and apparently every day a month in the past and a month in the future.

Thinkers were such bullshit.

I'd have preferred to teleport him to the bottom of the Atlantic. Unfortunately, he had a precog with him, and routinely asked about his chances of surviving one scenario versus another. Any assassination attempt I came up with, he'd have already countered a month ago. The key, as Tattletale had told me, was to defeat him in a way he wouldn't think to safeguard against. He couldn't protect himself against a future he didn't ask about. So rather than killing him, we'd imprison him.

I hoped Coil enjoyed his new home. Underneath the local dump he'd helped create, underneath all the trash in the Docks. Then we'd have Regent or Panacea, but probably the comparatively more ethical Regent, master him- keep Coil alive for his powers. The one who'd tried to manipulate us like puppets reduced to yet another tool in my toolbox, it was poetic and fitting.

All that said, I'd still have killed him if it were remotely feasible. Leaving him alive ran the risk of him escaping. And villains escaped all the fucking time.

Whatever, I couldn't do anything about it so why waste time thinking about it?

I kicked an empty soda can into the little dump we'd dug. Not that it was much of one. A true landfill spanned several acres. The Undersider's dump was only about the size of a neighborhood swimming pool, albeit one with a small hidden compartment.

After about three days of hard work our little landfill was filled with about three feet of garbage. I helped some children throw one last bag into the dump, placing a stamp on the garbage bag, and coupling it with the stamp in the actual dump, completing a second set of stamps. I felt my powers short circuit and disappear. Then come back on. Then off again. I didn't like it at all. I could operate two pairs of stamps simultaneously if I didn't care about my powers randomly not working. It was fine when I was whoring out my powers commercially, but it made me useless in a fight. Worst thing was that in order to deactivate a stamp, not just replace it with a new one, I had to be within 500 feet of it. So no, I couldn't just undo what I'd done. If Kaiser moved against me I'd be helpless.

But operating with a second pair allowed me to keep my stamp in the Protectorate and it lowered Coil's guard. And after Panacea, he was the second most dangerous villain in the city.

The children sarcastically cheered and showed me their palms in a mocking gesture. The implications of what they were doing eluded me, but perhaps it was some foreign asian custom. Maybe I was being overly self-conscious. Or maybe not. Tattletale was making a shooing motion with her hand, and I followed her signal to start banishing the Dock's garbage to the same dump used in the Boardwalk.

I could teleport at the speed of thought, but my threshold had been lowered to a maximum weight limit of 150 pounds, and my powers stopped working every couple of seconds. It took me almost ten minutes to clear out the majority of the landfill, with most of the time just waiting for my power to come back. Hopefully they'd misinterpret it as me needing a cooldown time between teleports. Some of them would inevitably turn on me when other capes came asking about weaknesses. I understood it was nothing personal, money was money, and by acting so publicly I was begging for betrayal. Unfortunately for the rats, they'd be passing along bad intel and probably get killed for their trouble.

There was no cheering. I'd have appreciated it, but I understood the message of the locals well enough. I wasn't Lung. I wasn't one of them. I would never be one of them, and I would never get the love that he had once had. Was it so much to ask for a little bit of appreciation?

That said, there hadn't been defiance either. There was no opposition to what I was doing, and even low levels of support.

They were probably right. This was nothing worth celebrating over. We'd executed a plan for cleaning up the streets, but so would anyone. I needed to be better. Make better plans.

"Let's get back to work," I said. "We can do better. Be more efficient. What we did today is nothing worth celebrating. The Docks are still overrun with trash, and a week of effort makes little difference. No single person can clean the Docks of the filth that's been accumulating for years. But if we all do our part, little by little things will improve. Find the garbage near you, collect it in one small pile, and I'll see that it's taken care of. For now, I need you to do two things: spread the word and do your part."

We'd have to rent out some trucks and hire a few permanent garbagemen.

I didn't get an applause. I got something better. Obedience. Within a few days, our little local dump had been filled five times and the streets were noticeably cleaner. We even got a few call-ins about rapists and traffickers and the like. After Tattletale had verified their testimonies I set about purifying my ranks. It wasn't easy with my power on the fritz. But hey, getting ripped apart by some killer dogs probably sent a stronger message than I could have anyways.

That night my dad invited Kurt and Lacy over for dinner. Dad still thought we were going to move, and wanted to make the most of the time he had left in Brockton Bay.

"Say what you want about her," said Kurt, taking a few sips from his Blue Moon. "But the streets have never been cleaner, and the Empire is no longer recruiting. I don't get why you're set on moving now, when Brockton Bay is finally moving in the right direction. I say you leak the story about Taylor, and use the leverage to force Winslow to transfer her."

I sipped on some water. It was nice to know that not all Dad's friends were like Alan. Some of them had their heads on straight.

Dad winced. "Please don't encourage my daughter. The streets are cleaner. What next? Are you going to tell me the trains run on time too? There are some benefits to fascism, but they aren't worth the drawbacks. There are already rumors that she's holding mass executions of any opposition within her ranks. She probably just made that dump so there'd be a place to hide the skeletons."

I snorted. "That's stupid. Hiding bodies in a dump. It would be so easy to find them. If it were me I'd just give any bodies that needed to disappear to Panacea."

They stared at me for a moment. Right. Don't go into any of the specifics of cleaning up the city. Sometimes I forgot just how sheltered Dad and his friends were, and made the mistake of taking their civilian opinions seriously.

"...I knew some of the people that Everywhere went after, Danny," said Lacy quietly. "If anyone deserved to die twice it was them. The initiations…"

Dad slammed his fist into the table, his face red. "This is how it starts! Don't you get it? What the hell was the point of learning history if you're just going to ignore it? Everywhere wasn't elected! Don't you guys care that she's the textbook definition of a strong-man politician?"

"I get it, Danny," said Kurt. "I do. But we're not talking about the world we grew up in, we're talking about the world now. If the government and the courts still worked, there would be no Everywhere. Things are finally improving in the Docks, we've got a cape who actually cares. Maybe instead of poking at her flaws, you might want to support the best thing that's happened to Brockton Bay in a decade."

I covered my smile with my hand.

"How much longer before she starts seizing industries?" Asked Dad. "How much longer until she's taking over our largest corporations? What if she takes over Medhall, using Panacea as justification? She's not just taking over the city militarily, but economically as well. She's obtaining a level of control over us most capes can't even comprehend, much less actually execute. If you don't think she's terrifying, you haven't been paying attention."

Kurt shrugged. "I don't work for Medhall, and they've never done shit to help us. Why exactly should I care?"

"What if she sticks her nose in the ferries?"

"The ferries start running again?" Asked Kurt. "You're acting like the system wasn't broken already. What are you so worried about? It can't get any worse than it already is."

"Maybe it's not perfect, but it's worth protecting," said Dad, like a stubborn child. "You're too impressed with the fact that she's actually doing something helpful, but she's just copying a basic service. That is more than most capes do, but it's still nothing compared to a corporation like Medhall. She has no ability to create on her own, all she can do is steal ideas from others. This is a system that will never work."

Oh really Dad? Nothing new? Watch me.

The next day Medhall provided us with a laboratory, and Panacea got to work mass producing drugs that would make heroin seem like candy.