Calvert made a wet, choked sound that might have been a laugh if his airway wasn’t currently obstructed by my hand.

  Up close, Coil’s whole aesthetic was even more ridiculous. The stylised mask. The expensive fabric. The gloves that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. It was all built to sell the idea that he was a predator in a tailored suit, a man who always had the next move, the next contingency, the next smug little smirk tucked behind his teeth.

  Right now, all it sold was that he’d never had someone like me bust through his roof.

  The room around us looked like it had been punched by God. Not shattered, because Haschel had threaded the needle on the way down, but still wrong in the way a place feels wrong after reality gets manhandled. The air was thick with concrete dust and the sharp bite of ozone. Fine debris drifted in slow spirals through the harsh fluorescence, catching the light like dirty snow.

  Monitors lined one wall, stacked in neat grids. Some showed static. Some showed camera feeds from hallways and empty rooms. A few were stuck on paused frames, the sort of frozen stills that would have looked ordinary if they weren’t happening in an underground bunker with a supervillain dangling by his throat. A desk sat dead centre, polished wood and clean edges like he was playing at being an executive instead of a criminal who’d built himself a private war shelter.

  Coil’s chair was tipped slightly, one wheel skewed, as if it had tried to flee without him. That felt fair.

  Somewhere deeper in the compound, an alarm started to whine, cut off, then start again in a different pitch. The ventilation kept running, a constant low hum in the background, pushing air through filters meant to keep the outside world out.

  Calvert’s boots scraped uselessly as he tried to get purchase. His gloved hands clawed at my wrist, not to break free, but to create space. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the strength. He didn’t have the leverage. He didn’t even have his power, not in any way that mattered when the problem had fingers and those fingers were already around his windpipe.

  His eyes were visible through the mask’s slits, wide and shiny with panic. They kept darting to the corners of the room, to the desk, to the console panels, to the places where a man like this hid buttons and triggers and contingency plans.

  I kept him suspended just long enough to let the lesson sink in.

  This is what it feels like when you don’t get to reach for the next lever.

  Gotta say, though, the other smell coming off of him was not pleasant. Sharp and sour beneath the cologne.

  I still couldn’t believe he’d peed himself.

  Part of me wanted to laugh. A bigger part wanted to throw up, because this was the guy. This was the infamous, cool-headed, long-game mastermind who’d made Brockton Bay dance on invisible strings. This was the man who had kidnapped children, hired mercenaries, and treated human lives like assets.

  And he was trembling.

  Violet thrummed, impatient. It didn’t care about irony. It cared about threats removed and obstacles crushed. My wings flexed once, tight and restrained, and the movement made a faint crystalline rasp that echoed off the room’s hard surfaces. Almost like the tinkle of tiny crystal bells.

  Calvert’s gaze snapped to them, then back to my eyes.

  I could practically see the calculation trying to reassert itself. The internal voice that would be telling him to stall, to probe, to split timelines and test reactions, to find the branch where he slipped away.

  It wasn’t going to work. Not tonight.

  I lowered him just enough that his boots touched the floor. His knees buckled immediately. He caught himself on the edge of his desk with a desperate scramble, sucking in air like it was something he had to steal back from me.

  I didn’t release his throat.

  Not fully.

  I loosened my grip to the point where he could breathe, but only because I wanted him conscious. Only because I wanted him to understand every second of what came next.

  He coughed, ragged and ugly, then tried to straighten, like posture alone could rebuild his authority.

  It didn’t.

  Dust drifted between us. The monitors continued their flicker and static. The alarm hiccuped again and died, as if the bunker itself had decided it didn’t want to draw attention to this conversation.

  Calvert swallowed hard. “You’re making a mistake,” he rasped, voice distorted by the mask and the bruising pressure on his throat.

  I stared him down, leaning into the considerable, looming presence of my Dragoon form.

  “No,” I said quietly. “This is the part where you stop moving pieces and start following instructions.”

  He went very still at that, the way prey goes still when it finally understands it’s been caught.

  And in the faint, shallow rise and fall of his chest, I could see the fight he was having with himself. Pride arguing with survival. Habit arguing with reality.

  The storm above kept raging, muffled by layers of concrete and earth.

  Down here, in this room, the only weather that mattered was the one I brought with me.

  “Any deviation, any at all, and I’ll snap your neck.”

  Predictably, the slimeball twitched right after I said that. Along with the sudden gasp and the dilating pupils, he just got proof that I wasn’t making empty threats. That drew a satisfied smirk from me.

  “You really should learn to listen, Thomas,” I said. “I imagine dying so many times can’t be good for your health.”

  All I got in return was a gurgle, but it wasn’t like his consent was really necessary in this arrangement.

  “Our first bit of business is calling off your flunkies,” I told the discount Bond villain. “I’d rather not scrape brain matter from out of my boots if I can help it. They wouldn’t be able to do a thing except waste my time. And if you make me go through that,” at this, my grip tightened a fraction, “you’ll experience first-hand what it's like to have your flesh slough off as you boil from the inside-out.”

  He flinched, as expected. Oddly, though, I got the feeling that the sensation wasn’t quite as unknown to him as it should have been.

  Regardless, he jerked his head in the affirmative and I dragged him over to his desk. Upon reaching it, he pushed a button near one of the monitors. Loosening my grip a tad to allow him to speak, he seemed to stutter again for a moment before doing as told.

  “All teams,” he said, doing an admirable job of keeping his voice steady. “Stand down and await further orders. I repeat, stand down and await further orders.”

  The echoes of stomping boots just beyond the closed, metal door petered out. Mercs, they may be, but their quality showed in their response time.

  “Next, you’re going to tell whoever’s in charge out there to expect the Undersiders,” I instructed, catching him by surprise once again. “They’ll let them through without a fuss. Any sign of resistance from your men gets you a dose of charged particles.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Allowing a brief spark of electricity to run through my armored form was all the convincing he needed. Once the orders were relayed, I moved on to the next phase of the plan.

  “Take out your phone and dial Tattletale,” I said while maintaining my grip on his throat. “Try to call anyone else and you already know what’ll happen.”

  From the way his arm spasmed for no apparent reason once the device was retrieved, I apparently had to show my willingness for lethal measures once more. And it was starting to grate on my nerves. I had an inkling that Coil was a control freak from all the fanfics I consumed, but needing multiple displays of violence just to get the point? That’s got to be neurosis of some kind.

  My thoughts might have shown on my face, because the snake quickly hit the right contact details and put the call on speaker, for good measure.

  “Yello’!” The genuine cheer in Lisa’s voice left no doubt that she already sussed out the mission’s success.

  “Hey, Tats! Your boss is having a get-together and your team is cordially invited. Be at the entrance promptly, if you please.”

  “Why, that sounds positively delightful!” Yeah, she was definitely enjoying this. “We’ll be right there. Do keep him company, would you? I know for a fact that he’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

  Coild shrank back as I met his eyes.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The line dropped and it was just the two of us again. By this point, I noticed the villainous mastermind’s desperate need to speak but was actively holding himself from doing so. How many of his timelines-that-never-were did I zap him for opening his mouth, I wondered.

  Then again, considering the reason for my presence in his lair, I couldn’t be bothered to care. Speaking of which, it’s time to make a few things clear so that I can avoid predictable issues in the near future.

  Lifting Coil higher, I gave just enough slack around my digits for us to have a functional conversation without completely blocking his airways.

  “I need you to listen very carefully to me, Thomas,” I said, relishing the panic and desperation in his twitching extremities. “The why, how, and who of this discussion will need to wait until our mutual acquaintance arrives. I can’t trust anything you say without our resident lie detector, after all. Instead, I’m going to tell you exactly how much you fucked up.”

  Pausing for effect, I let him absorb my words before continuing, uncaring of his discomfort.

  “Your actions tonight don’t surprise me. Kind of expected, in fact, considering your intentions with the mayor’s niece.” Oh! Didn’t expect I knew about that, did you? “Recent events may have made you less of a priority, but dealing with you was always on my list. Kidnapping Taylor, though? That shot you right to the top.”

  I’m not even lying here. The absolute clusterfuck that were my first few days in the Bay derailed so many things that I wanted to do. Coil was still a target, but becoming the city’s most-wanted reduced my options to a staggering degree.

  This whole operation, which could essentially be boiled down to thoughts and prayers, glued together with hope and desperation, is the clearest sign of how close to FUBAR my predicament has gotten. Ironic, considering that this is exactly the kind of situation Taylor would’ve excelled in.

  “So, while I’ve got you hanging up there, I would encourage you to treat the next few minutes with due consideration. Right now, my biggest concern is the safe retrieval of the girl. If you make that more difficult than it needs to be, know that death and torture are far above the depths I will sink to for satisfaction. Grey Boy’s crimes will be like a pleasant childhood memory in comparison.”

  Ah, there goes fresh urine running down his legs. Again.

  Honestly, my threat wasn’t even that scary. It was downright generic, in my opinion. Cliché villain fare, even!

  Though… upon closer inspection, Coil sort of reminded me of a cornered animal right now. Not resigned to its fate or biting in desperation, exactly. More like, paralyzed by indecision through sheer terror.

  Violet shouldn’t have this kind of effect on him. Not like Darkness would. Which left only one explanation.

  The bastard already knows the things I could do, probably via dropped timelines. If so, what exactly did I do that made him this terrified? How much did he see?

  Following that thread would have to wait, though, as a loud banging came from the door. It was accompanied by a “Knock, knock!” from a disconcertingly giddy Lisa. With their arrival, it was time to shift focus. Letting them in was just a matter of walking over, releasing the pneumatic locks, and pulling on the heavy slab of steel.

  Lisa was the first to enter, followed by Brian, Alec, and Rachel with her dogs. I caught a glimpse of a few mercs in full tactical gear before slamming the door shut, once again.

  The four gave Coil, currently dangling in the air like a disobedient pet, a cursory look before turning to the room. Alec whistled in appreciation at the devastation my unconventional entry caused, including the spreading puddle of water courtesy of rain shower still falling through the hole I made.

  “Good of you to join us, Undersiders.” My greetings caused a ripple of deadpans across the gathered teen villains. “Now that we’re all here, we can begin. Lisa, you already know what to look for.”

  It took only two minutes of scanning the room for her to disable the many, many, many, traps Coil had around his office. This includes the self-destruct that’s featured in oh-so-many fanfics as a plot device.

  Had I not already known about Calvert’s paranoia, even I would have been caught off guard by the sheer thoroughness of the man’s preparations to spite his enemies. So, contrary to the temporary allies’ visible shock, I was practically serene.

  As for Tattletale? She dove into the task of dismantling all of her tormentor’s safeguards like a school of piranha stripping meat off a carcass.

  Once given the all-clear, I dragged Coil’s chair to the middle of the room and dropped him onto it like a sack of potatoes. No verbal warnings were needed here since I’d already set the mood for this meeting beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  Lisa stood in front of him while I was behind, taking no chances with the slippery mastermind. Brian, Alec, and Rachel fanned around the Thinker, doing their best to look grimly at their erstwhile employer.

  “Well, boss, the tables have certainly turned, haven’t they?” I allowed Lisa this chance to gloat a bit, considering what she went through because of Calvert. “Believe me, I would have loved nothing more than to make your suffering as slow as humanly possible. But we’re in a bit of a hurry, so why don’t you just tell us where you’re keeping her?”

  “50 miles off the coast, in an abandoned government facility built atop one of the largest rock croppings.”

  …

  …

  …

  Okay, that had me and Tattletale blinking. Not only did he answer quickly, he did so without even an attempt at negotiations. Glancing at Lisa, her nod confirmed that he wasn’t lying, either.

  Da heck was going on? More and more, I got the feeling that something was wrong with this whole thing.

  “Not even going to bargain, Coil?” Lisa’s question accurately mirrored my own thoughts.

  “What would be the point?” He asked, seemingly resigned and tired. “I’ve clearly been led to the slaughter. You won’t let me live. The best I can hope for now is a quick death.”

  First of all, that was incredibly morbid. True, but still morbid. Also, he just confirmed that Cauldron was gonna Cauldron, no matter what. This time, they used the snakey catspaw as a sacrificial pawn in a seeming effort to get around my spoofing of the hat lady.

  I was really hoping that I’d have more leeway before they stuck their beaks into my business. But, it wasn’t to be.

  “So, they are involved,” I mused, causing Calvert and the others to turn in my direction. “What did they do?”

  “Second drawer on my desk.” He jerked his head toward the richly polished wooden furniture. “There’s a piece of paper that dear Lisa should find interesting.”

  Meeting Tattletale’s eyes, I could see the overwhelming need for answers almost spilling out of them, but she proceeded to ignore the urge and retrieve the specified item. Upon reaching into the drawer, she gasped and flinched back as if burned.

  “Tats?” Brian asked, concerned.

  She didn’t answer for a few moments, causing the unease to build before finally turning to Calvert.

  “What the fuck have you gotten us into?!”

  Personally, I thought that the rage and fear suffusing her voice and agitated body language was perfectly appropriate for this particular development. An opinion that clearly wasn’t shared by the rest of the Undersiders, by the way they reared back in alarm.

  I did find it odd that I wasn’t freaking out in a similar manner, however. This is about as close to a worst-case-scenario as it could get in this setting.

  Coil, for his part, maintained the stoic demeanor he’s had since the start of this interrogation. Probably because he already expected the reaction. So, when he stayed silent for a few seconds, I decided to intervene.

  “Some clarifications, Tattletale?”

  A few deep breaths got the girl back to some semblance of control before reaching into the drawer again and lifting the piece of paper up for our benefit. It seemed innocuous enough, but clearly not, if Lisa was this outraged over it.

  “This thing,” she said while waving the sheet in front of us, “has a hidden message that only someone like me could’ve found. Scratch that, it’s a message specifically intended for me to find. Whoever sent it knew that I was going to find it and that I would understand what it’s meant to say.”

  It would appear that the hyper-specific nature of Contessa’s delivery pushed all of the blonde’s anxiety buttons. Not surprising, considering the woman’s power. Still, I have to wonder what the point of this elaborate game of telephone is meant to accomplish.

  “So, what’s the message?” Alec asked impatiently.

  “Long story short?” Lisa met my eyes then, causing a pit in my stomach to form. “They arranged Bug Girl’s abduction because they want to talk to you.”

  …

  …

  …

  Well, things could be worse, I suppose. The Simurgh could be hovering right over the Bay, for example.

  But what were the chances of that?