Rebecca rubbed her temples. "All right, Director. What's so important that it couldn't wait until the weekly catch-up?"

She glared through the screen at Piggot. "And if you're asking for reinforcements to deal with your gang problems, the answer is no."

"I'm not asking for help with that," Piggot replied. "I'm letting you know about a new independent cape who's set up in Brockton Bay."

Rebecca looked unimpressed. "That hardly seems important enough."

"Oh, it is," Piggot said. "Here's a photo."

She tapped something on her keyboard, and a picture popped up.

Rebecca immediately assessed it. Young woman, by the looks of her… no, teenager, not adult. The height had thrown her off a little, but the costume didn't disguise the body form enough.

"Hazard triangles all over the costume?" she asked.

"Yes," Piggot agreed. "Our current rating for her is Blaster 8, Trump 13."

"Trump what."

Rebecca realized she'd been the one to say that.

"How can a new cape be Trump 13?" she asked. "She'd have to be stronger than Glaistig Uaine and Eidolon. Are you sure you're not being hysterical?"

Piggot glowered down the video call.

"I'm sure," she said, shortly. "She's called Trigger Warning, and she's made four people capes since she introduced herself two hours ago."

Rebecca's blood froze in her veins.

"She what?" the Chief Director asked, blankly.

"Told you," Piggot said, with a trace of smugness. "She uses eye beams or finger beams to do it. She also demonstrated an ability to force second triggers, though the only person she did that on was someone I didn't actually know was a cape in the first place."

Rebecca was distantly glad that she was only ruining her civilian reputation for unflappability.

"What?" she said, which didn't sound any better this time without any words in front.

"Thomas. Calvert," Emily explained, with a voice of pure venom. "The little pissant was Coil, believe it or not, and she second-triggered his power in a way that seems to have ruined it – at least, as far as Calvert is concerned."

She folded her arms. "He's been alternating between hysterically weeping in his cell and complaining that now all he can do is flip coins and get heads every time, along with something about how he should have had a 'safe timeline'. You tell me what rating to give her if you think Trump 13 is too high."

Ten minutes later, Piggot had stopped being smug at her, partly because eight more people had been made into capes over the course of the video call.

Apparently Trigger Warning had started creating a gang from the dock workers' union, of all places.

As soon as the call ended, Rebecca raised her voice.

"Contessa!" she shouted.

A Door opened in the air, and Contessa stepped out.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Rebecca's eye twitched.

"Is something wrong?" she repeated. "Is something wrong? Of course there is! There's a Cape in Brockton Bay handing out Shards like there's a clearance sale! Are you telling me you don't know about this?"

Contessa blinked.

"Pardon?" asked the world's greatest Thinker. "How is that possible?"

She frowned. "Path to finding out… ah. I see."

"Fill me in," Rebecca demanded.

She was not in the mood for manners.

"I have trouble with Triggers, of course," Contessa said. "This new cape is a functionally unlimited number of Trigger events standing on one another's shoulders and wearing a spandex jumpsuit."

"Then it's a disaster," Rebecca realized. "We can't rely on your powers at all, the Path has collapsed, and we're even being undercut!"

Contessa considered, visibly.

"There may be an upside," she said. "I may actually get a day off for once."

AN:

Very silly, of course.