Interlude: Cleaning up Loose Ends

When George got into his apartment, he knew something was wrong.

Kaiser was sitting in it. Along with Victor.

“Hello, George,” Kaiser said, voice echoing from his helmet. “I’m here to thank you.”

“Sir? I’m not—“

“Oh, there’s no need to hide your glory!” Kaiser said, his voice amused. “You listened to the PRT guy at the bar, found out about the little black girl who had hurt us so badly, sent out our men to show her that the Empire isn’t to be trifled with…” suddenly his voice turned harsh. “And brought the Protectorate down upon our heads. Victor?”

“The man you spoke to is not affiliated with the PRT. Our best information has been that he arrived here from the West Coast, spent no more than three days circulating around E88 bars, and struck up a conversation.” The cape looked up at George. “I would… like to state that he was a parahuman with some form of master power, but no such luck. He merely found someone too stupid to bother to tell us or to verify his claims as twenty minutes of work would have done.”

“But he had ID and everything…”

“Yes. ID. How unfortunate that we do not have phones, that you could have called this in. Instead, someone has set the Empire up for the murder of a family member of a Ward.” Kaiser said. “ALL of our capes are in hiding now, letting the degenerates walk the streets, and we face the very real possibility of the Triumvirate being called on our heads.”

“Eidolon?” George whispered.

“Hopefully,” Victor said, staring at him with an odd intensity. “Both he and Legend are powerful, but Alexandria is the clever one.”

“And, of course I have had to sacrifice a number of establishments connected to you and your… friends. They’re singing, you know. Telling the police everything they know, and my influence cannot cover outright truth on the strand.”

“But…but they’re loyal.”

“Evidently, Aisha was known to Orb Weaver,” Victor said. “Orb Weaver contacted two other capes, Bulwark and The Investigator. But Orb Weaver evidently put a greater fear of himself into the men you selected. They are telling everything, and it was only due to the more… intelligent members of the E88 and our supporters that we have recovered anything from this disaster.”

“I… Kaiser, I didn’t know! I’m loyal!”

“I know you are,” Kaiser said. “But I must put your loyalty up against your stupidity, that has not only harmed our position in the city but put no less than four capes on the board against us, including one that may not even have a body!” The last words came out as a shout.

“And they’ve identified you. We’ve pulled every string we can to delay the hunters and tossed a few fronts to them. But you’ve hurt the Empire worse than any time since Marquis.” Victor was staring at him again. “I’ve been following you.”

“So, I’m going to leave town.”

“Yes!” Kaiser said. “But first, why don’t you write your confession.”

He slid a pad of paper and a pen over. George nodded and started to write, then blinked. How did the letters go? He was just doing big, sloppy marks, not writing at all.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…”

“No need to worry,” Kaiser said. “Victor can help you.” And there was Victor, pulling out one of George’s writing pads, using his pencil and writing…

“After all,” Victor said, as he wrote the flawless words, the penmanship that Mike took pride in, taking form on the page. “A suicide note can be a stressful time.”

“Wha—you’re joking, right, sir?”

Suddenly, he felt Kaiser’s armored hands pushing him down.

“Do I look like I’m joking? Some moron with too much self-importance and not enough brains might have destroyed the Empire. I don’t know who used you, but I am having to pull everything in. The ABB has been strutting and I can’t send anyone out to deal with them, and it still won’t be enough.

Victor finished writing on the paper. “There we go. Properly sad. You never dreamed they’d go too far, and realize that your association with the lessers in our society had dragged you down to our level. So now you will serve the Empire—in death.” Before George could say anything, he started and screamed. Ghosts were coming in the walls.

“Crusader is quite cross with you,” Kaiser said. “He was going to see a movie this weekend.” Then they were lifting him, carrying him to the stairwell—where a noose made out of the AV cables for his TV set was.

“Sir! Please! I—

Then, with one last heave, the ghosts pushed his neck into the noose and dropped it, his feet just a few inches above the carpeted floor. He kicked and gurgled and screamed, trying to beg for one more breath.

“I didn’t figure you for sadism,” Kaiser said.

“He deserves it,” Victor’s voice was fading, little bolts of lightning in George’s vision. His bowels opened, a warm mass filling his pants, mixing with the urine dropping onto the floor. “But I have another reason. A perfect suicide raises questions. Someone wanting a painless way out and not realizing that’s because the drop breaks your neck? Far more common. I’ll fix the carpet and chair and stay armored up sir. Don’t want to risk any stray hairs falling to the ground.”

“Good. Best case, they stop by tomorrow to arrest him.”

“And that lost paperwork is going to burn another one of my sources,” Victor’s voice was fading.

“Nothing to be done for it. Victor, I’ll need you to drop by, if we can at the end of the week, I’m afraid Brad’s going to need some calming. We don’t want a brawl to distract from the fact that this was a single man going off on his own.”

“And we’re telling the truth. Strange feeling.”

“Yes. Find out who was being the “PRT” source. I want them dead.”

“Yes, Sir.”

And then there was nothing.

*****

Coil frowned at the news reports. In one timeline he was working, in this one, he was studying the aftermath.

And he couldn’t drop his working timeline, not without someone noticing. The one, fundamental flaw of his power. It was amazing how being in only two places at a time could hound you.

Preliminary reports on Aisha, Taylor Hebert, Bulwark…

Taylor Hebert. Present at the school where Sophia had antagonized Orb Weaver. After she had put Taylor Hebert into a locker.

Prime trigger material.

And most importantly, the reports from the interview with Taylor were normal. Aggressively so.

“Not a schemer, Emily.” Emily should have been more suspicious in her report. Anyone who knew Emily would know that about her.

“Taylor Hebert…” Almost certainly The Investigator. A thinker. Minor, at least according to PHO. Perhaps an associate of Orb Weaver…

And yet… Thomas was well aware of how important it was to conceal your power, and if you couldn’t do that, minimize it. Capes loved to brag. Not Thomas.

And perhaps not Taylor Hebert. And if she was a powerful thinker, she was dangerous. Especially given the friends she was keeping.

She hadn’t cost him much. The killing of Aisha was more or less a long-shot, high pay off, low risk, and Grue and his sister might yet be useful.

Kill her? No. Successful or not, so soon after the attack on Aisha, it would send up flares and there were thinkers in the Protectorate who might be able to find him out. Sending Tattletale to observe her… No. Lisa had already gone behind his back with Grue, her excuses laughable in the way you only got when you combined a teenager with a Thinker.

No, better to not push her into what might be a full revolt. Let Lisa keep thinking she was a step ahead of everyone and spinning her plans and she’d continue to be useful. Especially since he kept reminding her, in little ways, how he held control over her.

By the time she was an adult, internalized and learned helplessness should keep her under control.

The best prison was the one your own mind made, after all.

Shaking his head, Thomas got back to work. It was late, and that was another problem of his power—he got tired in both timelines.

End Book I