Agrippa
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Wake-up Call – Chapter 16 - Snake
🕑 Added 2021-10-27 00:37:02 +0000 UTC“I don’t really think that’s a good idea, boss.” Tattletale’s voice comes across the phone of my underground office with the slight waver she always tries to mask. It just shows her inexperience. Really, using her own power to analyze her non-verbal language and tells should have been her first priority if she intended to be a pickpocket and con artist.
“And why is that?” On the other hand, I just need to let her keep explaining herself. It’s not a grand performance that requires that much effort, but the affected disinterest should help.
“I… Look, I can see the merits, recruiting Shadow Stalker would be a death blow for Piggot’s career, especially when everything else we have comes to light, but I don’t think she would work well with the Undersiders, and Tay—Skitter—”And there it is: the Achilles Heel. You make it far too easy, Tattletale.
“I don’t think Miss Hebert is in any position to object to my recruitment policies. Her bridges with the PRT are thoroughly burned, aren’t they?”
“I—yes. Definitely. I can see no way for Taylor to work under the people who would allow Shadow Stalker to act like she’s done. But that’s precisely my point: it’s personal between them, and I think Skitter’s the most valuable cape by far. Stalker would be great at assassination and infiltration, of course, but Skitter is so much more versatile than—”
“You seem to be operating under the assumption that they are mutually exclusive.”
“Of course I am! Putting them together in the same team would be a murder waiting to happen! Unless you intend for she and I to keep hunting rival gangs down—”
“And what if I do?” For such a powerful Thinker, she sometimes needs me to walk her through the simplest of things.
“Ex—excuse me?”
“You have both been marvelously effective at eradicating the ABB. Tell me, how did you manipulate Armsmaster to take down Lung?” Because something about that seems far too convenient.
“I… I knew he would be on duty at the time the meeting at Somer’s Rock took place. Given his usual response times, the most likely routes from the Rig to the Docks, and what I learned about his bike that last time he came after Lung after the Undersiders clashed with him, I baited Lung into confronting us at the most likely time and place for Armsmaster’s arrival.” See? A perfect thinking machine, and she can’t help but waste all of that in her sentimentality, protecting a girl who, after seeing how she behaves in all the multiple aborted timelines where I’ve tried to capture her, most definitely doesn’t need it.
“Outstanding. To be clear, Armsmaster didn’t know he would be meeting you at that place?” Perhaps a too specific question, and one easily lied to, but Tattletale doesn’t know how much she would reveal by doing so.
“No, boss, he had no idea we would be expecting him there.” Fantastic. Now I’ve got you, my Tattletale. One way or another.
“See? You two are effective enough in your current roles. Maybe the Undersiders will welcome you back in the near future, and then we will have to deal with Shadow Stalker’s and Miss Hebert’s issues, but I don’t see why that would be a concern right now. Not with you taking out all of my rivals and paving the way for a very peaceful assignment as the local PRT director.”
“I—I can see how you would think that, boss, but I really can’t recommend in good faith that you take in the psychotic bitch—”
“Don’t worry so much on my behalf, Tattletale.” I hear her aborted reply as a strangled sound, and I would pay good money to see her face right now. “I will be expecting further reports soon enough.”
“Of course. Boss,” she says with a destitute voice.
And I hang up.
I go over the conversation once again over my head. If taken at face value, it paints a marvelous picture, with me gaining another parahuman asset with very little effort—an asset that also manages to strike a blow against the PRT—while keeping two apparently independent agents who are impressively effective at uprooting the competence and whose exploits can be easily spun into a smear campaign against the heroes if it ever becomes necessary.
Armsmaster in particular may be too hard to work with, and having two teenagers upstage him so thoroughly only to then manipulate him into doing their own cleanup would be enough to send him to a nice, distant post where he can spend his time coming up with anti-Endbringer measures and not bothering me.
Yes. If all this is true, then it is very good news indeed.
Maybe too good to be true.
So I get up from my desk and walk toward a room painted in soothing pastel colors where a little girl is lying on her bed, her left arm covering her eyes in a way that almost manages to hide her needle marks.
“Pet? I need you to give me a number.”
“I… I have given too many today. It hurts, and then it’ll keep hurting, and that will make tomorrow worse—” I decide to stop her little tirade before it can get off the ground.
“Just this one, Pet. It’s important.”
“… Candy?”
And I sigh. Addiction is a useful leash, but it is ever so bothersome to have to deal with the mono focus. It would have been so much easier if Pet had been mature enough to agree to less… direct manipulations.
“All right, I’ll call Mr. Pitter, and he will give you enough candy that you will be able to rest until tomorrow. How does that sound?”
“I… all right. Ask”
“What are the chances that Tattletale will ever confess she lied to me in today’s call?”
“Zero.”
Zero? So absolute? Either the conversation will become too unremarkable and be promptly forgotten, or she’s too scared of lying to me anymore. The first option is not that likely given the topics of discussion. The second…
Under my second skin, I smile.
“Thank you, Pet. I’ll send Mr. Pitter with the candy right away.”
***
“I need you to answer the questions, Pet.”
“It… It hurts… Please, I’ve answered so many already… Just, give me candy?”
Mr. Pitter looks at me questioningly, and I discreetly shake my head.
“Not yet, Pet. You won’t be able to answer any questions after you get your candy, will you?”
Pet looks petulant, about to argue, but then looks straight at me, and her lip quivers as her eyes narrow in pain.
“Eighty-seven point three percent I won’t…”
I still. The urge to hit the child is far too—
I split the timeline.
In one, I backhand the maudlin thing hard enough to throw her to the ground, then proceed to kick her ribs until I feel something satisfyingly snap.
In the other, I kneel in front of her and pat her head reassuringly.
I discard the one where she’s crying and bleeding.
“You see now. You know I’m right, so stop arguing and answer my questions, Pet. You know it will feel much better afterward.”
It takes every bit of effort not to address her with patronizing, rhetorical questions, a speech pattern I feel far too inclined to when in her presence, even if it always does more harm than good.
“I… Fine… But my head hurts a lot…”
“Right, so you’d better answer right now so you can get your candy, don’t—” And I catch myself just in time. “First question: how likely it is that I will survive today’s meeting?”
“Ninety-nine point seven.”
I nod. It’s even better than usual, which I guess is to be expected when surrounded by so many allied capes.
“Second question: how likely is it that Shadow Stalker will accept joining the Undersiders?”
“Eighty-five point two…”
“Third question: how likely is it that the Undersiders will accept joining me after I reveal the plan?”
“Eighty-one point three... Please, it hurts a lot…”
Not as much as I would make it hurt if I could risk it for more than a few seconds… Pet.
“Almost done, just a few more, and you can get all your—”
“No! No, I need it now! It hurts a lot, I’ve answered lotsa questions yesterday, and the day before, and it never stops hurting, it only dulls, but then you ask again and—”
I lay a hand on Pet’s shoulder, and she quietens. There’s a slight tremor, which means this is fear rather than comfort. I don’t care as long as it gets the screechy, whiny voice to stop stabbing my eardrums. I swear, it’s like she’s intentionally becoming more annoying as the days go by.
“You’ll get it soon, Pet, I promise. Now, chances Tattletale and Skitter will continue working to eradicate rival gangs if they can’t rejoin the Undersiders?”
“Seventy-eight point four. Please, I can’t do any more, I’ll—”
“You willanswer one more question. And then you’ll get your candy. Is that all right, Pet?”
Eyes intermittently unfocusing, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks, fists clenched so tight they are trembling, Pet nods.
Jubilation.
“Very well. I’m proud of you, Pet, so very, very proud. Now, answer me: chances either Tattletale, Skitter, or both will betray me today.”
I can see the flash of pain before she even opens her mouth, far more intense than I expected, even more than the agonized expression she had minutes earlier when I was kicking shards of bone into internal organs.
The memory should soothe me next time she gets so rebellious.
“Zero point two…” she mutters. And then she screams.
I nod to Mr. Pitter, and he hurries to sedate the screeching thing.
The news are good enough that I can even overlook my ringing eardrums.
***
“Who’s your interior designer? Doctor No?”
Trickster smothers a small giggle at Shadow Stalker’s remark, his professional façade cracking for once.
How original. I’m sure I haven’t heard anything like this from any other visitors until you deigned grace us with your presence, Miss Hess. If I had a dollar for every white Persian cat I’ve had to dispose of… I’d have two dollars.
Then again, I’d also have two more mercenaries to pay. So I guess it evens out.
Aloud, I say:
“I’m afraid he wasn’t available. I’m still looking into subcontracting Behemoth for my volcano base.” The good thing about predictable jabs is that one can rehearse a good riposte.
Trickster doesn’t try to hide his laugh, intelligently inferring that laughing at a joke from his employer is not only expected but encouraged. Stalker, instead, crosses her arms.
Still not on board, I see.
“Miss Hess—”
“What the fuck—”
“Oh, forgive me. You would rather I kept a polite fiction, as if I haven’t had access to your personal files for quite a while? Very well then, Shadow Stalker, I would like you to join one of my teams while we look into capturing your tormentors. You must see our interests align: Miss Hebert and Tattletale were previous members of this very team, and they aren’t likely to have been enthused by their betrayal. Moreover, I have a vested interest in seeing Piggot thrown out of her post—”
“You may need a crane.”
“How droll. Can I take your joking demeanor as a sign that you are willing to consider joining the Undersiders, even given your past animosity with Grue?”
She keeps her arms crossed, her head tilted down, mulling over her answer. Rushing her would only make her feel pressured and refuse out of sheer contrariness. Not like she could run very far with Trickster here to keep her in check.
“Sure sounds like the better choice out of the whole shit-menu.”
“I certainly hope being in my employ will prove more amenable than a stay in prison.”
“It’s always nice to have dreams, isn’t it?”
Once again, Trickster tries to stifle a snort of laughter. Once again, I pretend to ignore him.
Maybe Tattletale had a point about recruiting the delightful Miss Hess.
***
I stand in front of the greatest gathering of parahumans in this city.
Well, aside from the E88, but I’m sure Tattletale and her partner are already working on cutting them down to size.
As Miss Hess said, it’s always nice to have dreams.
What remains of the Undersiders and their newest recruit are to the left. Stalker’s social graces have proven to be as much of a nuisance as Tattletale warned, but the team is currently in dire need of some muscle, and the brutish girl should help provide that. If nothing else, she’s likely to counter quite a few of the Brutes in the Bay.
It’s not so much relief at the arrangement having worked that I feel, as Pet’s predictions were as reliable as ever, but at the tiresome argument finally being over.
To my right, the far more loyal Travelers, if only because of what I hold over them, remain far less quarrelsome. Trainwreck and Circus may as well not be here.
So, I guess it’s time for a demonstration.
“You now know my plan, my vision for this city, but you don’t know how I intend to reach it, what it is that I bring to the table. The description of my power is deceptively simple, for all that its ramifications are hard to grasp: Fate manipulation.”
I can see I have their attention as they all turn to me, and I hold a coin aloft.
“Grue? Head or tails?”
The young man looks askance at his teammates, likely missing Tattletale’s guidance at this very moment. It may turn out to be a problem if the leader of one of my teams is so reliant on somebody who isn’t there anymore.
“Tails,” he says hesitatingly. And I nod.
I split the timeline.
In one, I remain still; in the other, I throw the coin and catch it to reveal heads.
I collapse the timeline. I split the timeline.
In one, I remain still; in the other, I throw the coin and catch it to reveal tails.
I collapse the timeline.
Grue keeps still. Unnaturally so.
“Rachel?“ I ask, because I refuse to call her preferred moniker on principle.
She seems to ponder the question.
“Heads,” she settles on.
I split the timeline.
In one, I stay still; in the other, I throw the coin at her and she catches it, visibly showing tails.
It seems today’s not my lucky day.
I collapse the timeline. I split the timeline.
In one, I stay still; in the other, I throw the coin at her and she catches it, visibly showing heads.
“Regent?” I ask, trying not to show my relief at not having had to stretch the charade. My record is eight tries before managing.
“Well, if I’m going to be recruited by a coin trick, I better get some good head out of it.”
I make a mental note to stab him in the eye the next time I need to unwind, and I split the timelines.
In one I—
In both, my hand cramps in pain, and I drop the coin.
It shows tails.
“Well, no head, no recruitment. I would have thought you’d already know after high school—you have the body for it.”
And then the swarm buzzes.
***
Lisa
“Goddammit, Alec, I told you to wait! We don’t know anything about those Travelers!” Before I can even hear his answering quip, I switch to Grue’s channel, “Grue! This was not the plan, and I’m sorry to force your hand—”
“Why do I find that so hard to believe?!” he exclaims as he starts throwing smoke around and looking for cover between the construction material in Coil’s Bond Villain Base TM.
I switch channels to Trainwreck and Circus.
“Calling contract Delta Seven! Evacuate location! If any of you stays and fights the Travelers, I’ll throw in a quarter of a million!” Trainwreck bolts, and Circus slams a theatrically big hammer behind the head of the asshole with the top hat. There goes a quarter of a million. And I can’t even claim they have to split it.
I switch back to Grue.
“Come on, the asshole just had you agree to working with Stalker, the bitch who tried to murder you and then tried to slit Taylor’s throat after making her trigger! He doesn’t care about us, only about results!” I check the cameras, and he seems to waver—Grue’s main motivator loyalty to— “And he has enslaved a twelve-year-old girl, what do you think he’ll do to Aisha if he ever doubts your loyalty?!”
And Grue’s smoke thickens. And then surrounds Stalker just as she tries to jump away in her shadow form. Which I know for a fact causes her excruciating pain.
Good.
I turn to the side, just in time to see Taylor grimly nod in determination (as is her wont), and, at once, the rest of the Travelers—save the one who looks like a purple gorilla—and Coil drop to their knees, screaming their agony so loudly I have to take my earpiece off for a moment.
Nociceptor activators. Colin, if you addict my girlfriend, we’re gonna have words.
Lisa Wilbourne’s gratitude toward Colin Wallis—
Fine! The words will be “thank you!” God, we need to get you a sense of humor.
Humor often used as a way to release tension so—
Oh God. No. Not the time for this.
The screens show me a blob of darkness that is likely covering the Undersiders as Rachel grows her dogs enough to be useful in the fight to come, Circus madly cavorting around the purple simian, and a varied collection of people rolling on the ground while clawing at their faces, Coil having gone so far as to remove his mask and—
Yep. There it is. Thomas Calvert.
Am I good or what?
Lisa Wilbourn’s need for validation—
Fuck you.
The parahuman problem seems to be neatly handled. The problem now seems to be all those mercenaries running around that seem to be choking on a veritable biblical plague, and—Right. Not actually a problem. What was I thinking?
And she still thinks her power is weak… It boggles the mind, really.
And then I hear an enormous crash both through my earpiece and from our position outside the building.
Seconds after that, Armsmaster rushes in on his bike, Miss Militia clinging to his waist on the rear seat.
… If I snatched a picture and threatened to send it to Dragon, what could I get? A raise in allowance?
Colin Wallis unlikely to negotiate with—
If you were about to say ‘terrorists,’ I would like to point to exhibit A. Namely, my hostage-holding girlfriend.
“Lisa! Focus, for fuck’s sake!” Taylor yells.
“Why?” I calmly reply.
“Uh, because we…” She pauses for a moment, deciphering the picture her bugs are painting for her before turning toward the spread of screens that Colin has so dotingly prepared for such an occasion and are currently deployed in this very convenient roof (I love roofs since… well, at least a couple of days ago—you know why).
Yes. I am going to use the ‘doting’ word. If everybody keeps joking about him being my foster father, I may as well get the perks.
Lisa Wilbourn secretly pleased—
I don’t know why you are in such a good mood today, but I don’t like it one bit.
Also, the purple gorilla just melted. Either it was a projection, or we are dealing with Oz villains.
Finally, Taylor turns and looks at me.
“We… won?”
“Damn right we did.”
“You… I… Wasn’t this supposed to be a big deal?”
“Which just goes to show what proper planning and coordination between two Thinkers who have never met nor talked to one another can accomplish.”
“I still can’t believe you were right about that…”
“There’s a very good reason I didn’t lie to him at all after Bakuda, Tay.”
“Right… You know what this means?”
“Victory sex?” I say in the most chipper voice I can affect.
And she hugs me and takes my hand, which only now I notice has been trembling for quite a while.
“Maybe. But first you’ll need to unwind,” she whispers right into my ear after leaning down, her body surrounding mine in an embrace I’ll never grow tired of.
Lisa Wilbourn unlikely to grow tired of physical support and affection.
… Thanks. I’m glad you’re happy as well.
“If you two are done rehearsing Thelma and Louise, we could use your help wrapping this up,” Colin’s dry voice comes across both our communicators, judging by the way Taylor stiffens around me.
Ah. And now he’s even getting pissy and interrupting my make-outs with my girlfriend. He’s taking that parental thing too far.
Lisa Wilbourn secretly pleased—
Shut up.
Comments
Havefeith
Any Coil apologist likely wrote themselves as a Coil Self-Insert. You may want to reread my previous message, I edited it.
Agrippa
Just kidding around. I really don't think there are that many Coil apologists (I hope).
Havefeith
Not sure how it'd be controversial, but okay. Edit, because I'm a dumbarse: right, it was a joke. Man, I have to read messages better.
