Victor's polished shoes clicked against the pristine floors of Medhall as he led Taylor through the winding corridors. Othala walked beside them, her excitement palpable in the air. Taylor, still in her Miss Stepford persona, maintained a serene smile, though her mind raced with possibilities.

  "As you can see, Miss Stepford, Medhall takes great pride in its facilities," Victor said, gesturing to the state-of-the-art equipment visible through the large windows lining the hallway. "We're at the forefront of medical research and development."

  Taylor nodded, her blonde wig bobbing slightly. "It's quite impressive. I must admit, I'm curious about the relationship between Medhall and the Empire. It seems... unusually close for a legitimate business and a, well, you know."

  Victor chuckled, a practiced sound that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ah, a astute observation. You see, Medhall and the Empire have what you might call a mutually beneficial arrangement. We provide certain services, ensuring the peace and stability in areas where Medhall operates. In return, Medhall offers us access to resources that would otherwise be... challenging to acquire through traditional means."

  "I see," Taylor said, carefully neutral.

  Othala, unable to contain herself any longer, burst in. "Oh, it's more than clever! It's brilliant! The Empire is doing so much good for the city, and Medhall is helping us achieve our goals. Together, we're making Brockton Bay a better place for the right kind of-"

  Victor smoothly cut in, placing a hand on Othala's arm. "For all its citizens, of course. We believe in progress and improvement for everyone." His tone was light, but Taylor caught the warning glance he shot at his wife.

  Othala's enthusiasm dimmed slightly, but she nodded. "Right, of course. Sorry, I just get so excited about our work sometimes."

  Taylor studied Othala, realizing with a start just how young the other girl was. She couldn't be more than a year or two older than Taylor herself. It was a sobering thought, seeing someone so close to her own age so deeply entrenched in the Empire's ideology.

  "Your passion is admirable," Taylor said carefully. "It's clear you both believe strongly in your cause."

  Victor nodded, seemingly pleased with her diplomatic response. "Indeed we do, Miss Stepford. Now, shall we show you to your new laboratory?"

  They continued down the hallway, passing several more research areas. Taylor noticed a few civilian researchers that must be in the know and what she assumed were Empire members working side by side. It was an odd juxtaposition, but she supposed that was the point – to blur the lines between legitimate business and criminal enterprise.

  Finally, they reached a set of heavy doors. Victor placed his hand on a biometric scanner, and the doors slid open with a soft hiss.

  "Welcome," he said with a flourish, "to your new workspace."

  Taylor stepped inside, her eyes widening behind her domino mask. The laboratory was enormous, easily three times the size of her makeshift setup in the Barnes' basement. Pristine workbenches lined the walls, and in the center stood a large, empty area – perfect for larger projects.

  "This is... incredible," Taylor breathed, momentarily forgetting to maintain her Miss Stepford persona.

  Othala beamed. "Isn't it? And it's all yours! Well, mostly yours. I'm sure Kaiser will want updates on your progress, but this is your personal space to work and create."

  Victor nodded. "Exactly. We want you to have everything you need to push the boundaries of your abilities. Speaking of which..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper, handing it to Taylor. "This is your budget for equipment and materials until the end of the year. I apologize that we couldn't allocate more at the moment, but I hope it will suffice to get you started."

  Taylor unfolded the paper, her eyes widening as she took in the number written there. She blinked, certain she must be seeing things wrong. But no, the zeroes were still there, an amount that made her previous 'budget' of scrounged materials look like pocket change.

  "This is... very generous," she managed, her mind reeling with the possibilities. She had never considered herself particularly materialistic, but the thought of what she could accomplish with these resources was intoxicating.

  Victor smiled, clearly pleased with her reaction. "We believe in investing in talent, Miss Stepford. And you have shown tremendous potential. Oh, and if you need any assistants or test subjects, we have plenty of volunteers eager to help advance our cause."

  Taylor's head snapped up at that. "Volunteers? For... testing?"

  "Of course," Victor said smoothly. "Many of our members are quite devoted. They understand the importance of your work and are willing to contribute in whatever way they can."

  Taylor nodded slowly, unsure how to respond to that. The idea of having many willing and knowing test subjects was different. And very useful. She would be able to do much more detailed before and after analysis. Previously she only had Emma and Anne to fill that role.

  "Well," she said finally, "I appreciate the offer. I'll certainly keep it in mind as my work progresses."

  Othala clapped her hands together. "Oh, this is so exciting! I can't wait to see what you come up with. Maybe we could work together sometime? I know my power isn't exactly tinkering, but I'm sure there must be some way we could combine our abilities."

  Taylor smiled, genuinely touched by Othala's enthusiasm despite her misgivings about the girl's beliefs. "That's a kind offer. I'm sure we'll have plenty of opportunities to collaborate in the future."

  Victor checked his watch. "I hate to cut this short, but we have a few more stops on our tour. Shall we continue?"

  They left the laboratory, Taylor's mind still spinning with the possibilities – and the ethical quandaries – that lay before her. As they rounded a corner, they nearly collided with two men heading in the opposite direction.

  "Ah, Krieg, Alabaster," Victor said, recovering smoothly. "Perfect timing. Allow me to introduce you to Miss Stepford, our newest associate."

  Taylor tensed slightly as she took in the two men. Krieg's costume was the most overtly Nazi-themed she had seen yet, complete with a modified SS uniform. Alabaster, true to his name, was a study in monochrome – pale skin, white hair, and colorless eyes that seemed to look right through her.

  Krieg stepped forward, offering a slight bow. "Miss Stepford, a pleasure. I trust Victor and Othala have been showing you our humble facilities?"

  "They have," Taylor replied, forcing herself to remain calm. "It's all very impressive."

  Krieg's eyes crinkled behind his mask, suggesting a smile. "Wunderbar! And how do you find our setup here? Up to your standards, I hope?"

  Taylor nodded, choosing her words carefully. "It's more than I could have imagined. The resources available here are truly remarkable."

  "Ah, but they are just the beginning, meine Freundin," Krieg said, his accent becoming more pronounced. "You see, the Empire is but a local organization. Our allies in Gesellschaft, now they operate on a national – nay, international – scale. Their resources... well, let's just say they make what you see here look like child's play."

  Taylor's eyes narrowed slightly behind her mask. She recognized the sales pitch for what it was. "Is that so? Well, I look forward to seeing what can be accomplished here in Brockton Bay first. One step at a time, after all."

  Krieg nodded, but Taylor caught a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "Of course, of course. Rome wasn't built in a day, as they say. Still, I hope you'll keep an open mind about future possibilities. We're all quite eager to see what you can do."

  "Indeed," Alabaster spoke for the first time, his voice as colorless as his appearance. "Your work at Winslow has not gone unnoticed. I'm particularly interested in how you might apply your talents on a larger scale."

  Taylor felt a chill run down her spine at Alabaster's words. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at her, as if he could see right through her disguise.

  "Well," she said, forcing a light tone, "I suppose we'll all find out together, won't we? Now, if you'll excuse us, I believe we have more of the tour to complete."

  Krieg stepped aside with another slight bow. "Of course, don't let us keep you. Auf Wiedersehen, Miss Stepford. I look forward to seeing the fruits of your labor."

  As they continued down the hallway, Taylor could feel Krieg and Alabaster's eyes on her back. She suppressed a shudder, reminding herself of why she was here. But as she thought about the lab waiting for her, filled with possibilities, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement alongside her unease.

  Victor's voice broke through her thoughts. "I hope you weren't too put off by Krieg. He can be a bit... intense at times."

  Taylor shook her head. "Not at all. It's good to meet more members of the organization. Everyone seems quite invested in the work being done here."

  Othala nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes, we're like one big family! You'll see, Miss Stepford. Once you get to know everyone, you'll feel right at home."

  As they continued the tour, Taylor's mind raced. She had known what she was getting into when she agreed to this plan, but the reality of it was starting to sink in. The resources, the connections, the sheer scale of the Empire's operation – it was all so much bigger than she had imagined. And now she was right in the middle of it all.

  As they passed another lab, Taylor caught a glimpse of researchers working on what looked like some kind of performance-enhancing drug. She made a mental note to look into that later.

  Greg wiped the sweat from his brow as he finished his last set of bicep curls. The weight room at Winslow High had seen a lot more use lately, and he was glad to be part of that trend. As he set the dumbbells back on the rack, his phone buzzed in his gym bag.

  Grabbing a towel, he fished out his phone and saw a text from his girlfriend:

  "Hey cutie! Still on for D&D tonight? GstringGirl's got a crazy new dungeon planned!"

  Greg grinned, quickly tapping out a reply:

  "Wouldn't miss it! Can't wait to see what she's cooked up this time."

  He was glad FlippinMad and GstringGirl were getting along now. Their initial clash had been awkward, to say the least. But now, the three of them made a great team, both in-game and out.

  As he headed for the showers, Greg reflected on how much things had changed in the past few months. Not just for him, but for the whole school. There was a different energy in the air, like everyone had collectively decided to step up their game.

  The hot water felt good on his sore muscles as Greg showered off the sweat from his workout. When he finished, he stood in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around his waist, and really looked at himself.

  He was still short, no getting around that. But he was grateful his girlfriend was even shorter - it made him feel less self-conscious. The baby fat that had clung to his face and midsection for so long was finally starting to melt away, replaced by lean muscle. It wasn't anything impressive yet, but it was a start.

  Running his hands through his damp hair, Greg marveled at how different it felt. The bowl cut he'd sported for most of his life was gone, replaced by a more stylish cut his girlfriend had insisted on. He wasn't entirely used to it yet, but he had to admit it looked better. And if it made her happy, well, that was a bonus.

  As he got dressed, Greg thought about how much easier it had become to talk to girls lately. He still got nervous sometimes, sure, but he wasn't constantly putting his foot in his mouth anymore. It was like something had finally clicked in his brain, helping him navigate social situations without making a complete fool of himself.

  His mom had been over the moon when he'd told her about his girlfriend. She kept going on about how glad she was that he was finally getting out of the house more and spending less time glued to his computer screen. Greg didn't think it was that big a deal - he still played games, after all. It was just more of a social thing now, with friends instead of strangers on the internet.

  But maybe his mom had a point. He was growing up, wasn't he? This was what guys were supposed to do - work out, get girlfriends, balance their hobbies with real-life responsibilities. It felt... right.

  Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Greg left the locker room and headed for his next class. As he walked through the halls, he couldn't help but notice how different everything felt compared to last year. There was a sense of purpose in the air, like everyone was actually trying now.

  As he passed by the school office, Greg overheard a snippet of conversation that piqued his interest. Principal Blackwell was talking to a man in an expensive-looking suit - someone important, by the looks of it.

  "...the superintendent had to use a lot of favors," the man was saying, his voice low but intense. "This had better be worth it."

  Blackwell's reply was confident, almost smug. "I assure you, it is. Here, take a look at these."

  Greg slowed his pace, trying to catch more of the conversation without being obvious about it. He saw Blackwell hand the man some papers, which he studied with a furrowed brow.

  "These numbers," the man said, sounding skeptical. "Are you sure you're not... embellishing things?"

  Blackwell's voice was firm. "They're 100% accurate. You can verify them yourself if you'd like."

  The man's expression shifted, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "Perfect. Then we'll continue to take care of things on our end."

  "And my... favor?" Blackwell asked, a hint of eagerness in her voice.

  The man nodded. "If the superintendent wins the election, you'll get the nod to the Education Board. You'll be replacing him as superintendent. But remember, it's critical for his chances that this improvement continues. We can't afford any backsliding."

  Greg hurried on, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. But as he walked, he couldn't help feeling a swell of pride. Blackwell deserved that promotion, didn't she? Look at how much the school had improved under her leadership. It was about time someone recognized her efforts.

  He slipped into his classroom just as the bell rang, taking his usual seat behind Sparky. His friend's long hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and he was absently tapping out a rhythm on his desk with his pencil.

  "Hey man," Greg said, leaning forward. "How's it going?"

  Sparky turned, a grin lighting up his face. "Dude, it's going great! The band is really picking up steam. We've got a gig at the Bronze next weekend."

  "That's awesome!" Greg said, genuinely happy for his friend. "How are classes going?"

  Sparky's expression turned thoughtful. "You know, it's weird. I've been really getting into music class lately. The teacher's actually putting in effort now, and I'm learning so much. I never realized there was this whole world of theory behind it all, you know? I always just... felt the music."

  Greg nodded, but a thought nagged at him. "That's great, man. But, uh... do you think a band will be enough to, you know, provide for a family and stuff? I mean, only really popular musicians can make a living at it, right?"

  He saw a flicker of uncertainty cross Sparky's face, and for a moment, Greg wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. But then Sparky squared his shoulders, a determined look in his eyes.

  "Yeah, I know it's tough," Sparky said. "But that just means I've gotta put in more effort, right? Work harder, practice more, really make this happen."

  Greg felt a surge of pride in his friend. "That's the spirit, man! A guy's gotta take care of things like that, you know? I believe in you."

  Their conversation was interrupted by a small commotion at the classroom door. Greg looked up to see one of the younger female teachers - Miss Johnson, he thought her name was - glaring daggers at a woman he didn't recognize. The stranger had short blonde hair and was wearing a scarf that partially obscured her face.

  The two women weren't saying anything, just engaged in an intense staredown that crackled with unspoken tension. Greg was about to nudge Sparky and ask what was going on when Tina, another classmate, walked between the two women.

  "Excuse me," Tina said quietly, breaking the spell.

  The two women stepped apart, allowing Tina to enter the classroom. With one last glare at each other, they both turned and left.

  "What was that about?" Greg wondered aloud.

  Sparky shrugged. "No idea, man. Drama with the teachers, maybe?"

  Greg's attention was drawn to Tina, who looked uncharacteristically downcast as she took her seat. "Hey, is Tina okay? She looks kind of upset."

  Sparky followed his gaze, a sympathetic expression crossing his face. "Oh, yeah. She's been coming to our jam sessions lately, you know? Brings this friend of hers from Clarendon High. But last time, they got into this huge argument at the end. It was pretty intense. They both stormed off, and I don't think they've talked since."

  Greg frowned, wondering if he should say something to Tina. He wasn't great at comforting people, but it seemed wrong to just ignore someone who was clearly upset. But before he could make up his mind, he saw Taylor approach Tina's desk.

  The two girls talked quietly for a moment, Taylor's expression concerned and sympathetic. Then Taylor reached into her bag and pulled out a book, handing it to Tina with a smile. Tina took it, looking grateful, and Greg saw some of the tension leave her shoulders.

  "Well, no need to worry about it now," Greg said, settling back in his seat. "Taylor's on the case. She's really good at smoothing things over with people."

  Sparky nodded in agreement. "Yeah, for real. Remember how she and Sophia used to be at each other's throats all the time? Now look at them."

  Greg glanced across the room to where Sophia sat, calmly taking notes. It was true - the transformation in Sophia's behavior over the past few months had been nothing short of miraculous. Gone was the angry, aggressive girl who used to terrorize half the school. In her place was someone who, while still not exactly friendly, at least seemed... stable.

  "You're right," Greg said, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him. "Things are really looking up around here, aren't they? I mean, just look at how much Winslow's improved."

  Sparky grinned. "For real, man. It's like a whole different school."

  As Mr. Gladly entered the room and began calling the class to order, Greg couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in his school. Sure, Winslow had its problems - what school didn't? But things were getting better. People were trying harder, caring more. It felt like they were all part of something bigger, something important.

  And Greg? He was growing up, finding his place in it all. He had a girlfriend, friends who cared about him, and a future that seemed brighter than ever before. Life was good.

  As he opened his textbook and prepared to focus on the lesson, Greg pushed aside any lingering doubts or questions. After all, with things going so well, what was there to worry about?

  The Barnes' home was filled with the warm scents of roasting turkey, savory stuffing, and freshly baked pies as Taylor helped Emma set the table for Thanksgiving dinner. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as she surveyed the feast they had prepared - it was a far cry from the lonely, quiet dinners she and her father had shared in the years following her mother's death.

  "Everything looks amazing," Danny said, entering the dining room with a bottle of wine in hand. "You girls have really outdone yourselves."

  Taylor smiled at her father, noting how much healthier and more energetic he looked these days. The self-help books she had given him seemed to be working wonders. "Thanks, Dad. I'm just glad we could all be together this year."

  The doorbell rang, and Emma hurried to answer it. Moments later, she returned with Sophia and her family in tow. Taylor's eyes swept over the group, taking in the details she had learned about them.

  Sophia's mother, Nancy, was a petite woman with a careworn face that spoke of years of struggle. Behind her came Terry, Sophia's older brother - a lanky young man of about 19 who looked uncomfortable in his ill-fitting dress shirt. Sophia herself followed, carrying her youngest sibling, 3-year-old Yvonne.

  Taylor couldn't help but notice how different the three Hess children looked from each other. Terry had lighter skin and straighter hair than Sophia, while little Yvonne's features hinted at a different racial background entirely. The implications were clear, though Taylor kept her thoughts to herself.

  "Welcome, everyone," Zoe Barnes said warmly, emerging from the kitchen. "Please, make yourselves at home. Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes."

  As the group settled in, Taylor found herself observing the interactions between Sophia and her family. There was a tension there, a wariness in the way Nancy watched her middle child. It was a far cry from the easy affection between Emma and her parents.

  "Can I get anyone a drink?" Alan Barnes offered, playing the gracious host.

  Soon, everyone was seated around the table, plates piled high with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and all the traditional fixings. Taylor couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as she looked at the feast before them - a testament to the hours of work she, Emma, Sophia, and Mrs. Barnes had put in.

  "This all looks wonderful," Nancy said, her voice tinged with what might have been envy. "You must have been cooking for days."

  "Oh, it wasn't so bad with all of us working together," Zoe replied with a smile. "Though I must say, I'm a bit disappointed Anne couldn't find the time to help out."

  Anne, Emma's older sister, rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Come on, Mom. You know I couldn't have fit in that kitchen with the four of you in there. Besides, someone had to keep Dad from sneaking bites of everything."

  The table erupted in laughter, and Taylor felt a warm glow of contentment. This was what holidays were supposed to be like - family and friends coming together, sharing food and laughter.

  As they began to eat, the conversation flowed easily. Danny talked about the progress being made at the Dockworkers' Union, while Alan shared amusing anecdotes from his law practice. Taylor found herself paying particular attention to Nancy, curious about the woman who had raised Sophia.

  "So, Nancy," Zoe said during a lull in the conversation, "Emma mentioned you work at the hospital. That must be rewarding work."

  Nancy nodded, swallowing a bite of turkey before responding. "Oh yes, it can be. Long hours, but it's good to feel like you're making a difference."

  "Are you a nurse?" Taylor asked, genuinely curious.

  A flicker of discomfort crossed Nancy's face. "Oh, no. I'm... I'm part of the janitorial staff. It's not glamorous, but it pays the bills."

  An awkward silence fell over the table. Taylor could see the pity in Zoe's eyes, the slight wince on Alan's face. She felt a surge of conviction - this was exactly why her work was so important. People like Nancy and her family needed the opportunities that education and self-improvement could provide.

  Anne, ever the peacemaker, jumped in. "You know, it's never too late to go back to school if you wanted to become a nurse. My friend Crystal was just telling me that her cousin - she works at the hospital too - is always complaining about how short-staffed they are on nurses. Apparently, they even have financial incentives for people who want to enter nursing programs."

  Nancy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Oh, I don't know. I wasn't a very good student back in the day. And with work and the kids..."

  "I might be able to help with that," Taylor said, seizing the opportunity. "I have some really effective study guides that could make a big difference. They've been working wonders at Winslow."

  She saw Sophia stiffen slightly at the mention of the study guides, but pressed on. "And Terry, if you're interested in improving your job prospects, I'd be happy to share some guides with you too. Even learning a trade could open up a lot of opportunities."

  Danny nodded enthusiastically. "Taylor's right. At the Dockworkers' Union, we're always looking for skilled tradespeople. The pay and benefits are much better than most entry-level jobs."

  Terry, who had been quietly focused on his plate, looked up with a hint of interest. "Yeah? What kind of trades?"

  As Danny launched into an explanation of various apprenticeship programs, Taylor's gaze fell on little Yvonne, who was messily attempting to eat mashed potatoes with her hands. A thought occurred to her.

  "You know," she mused aloud, "I wonder if I should make a preschool version of the study guides. It's never too early to start learning, right?"

  The words had barely left her mouth when Sophia's fork clattered loudly against her plate. "No!" she blurted out, her voice startlingly loud in the sudden silence. "Yvonne's too young, she shouldn't-"

  Sophia broke off, looking confused and slightly panicked. Everyone at the table stared at her, shocked by the outburst.

  Taylor felt a cold shock run through her. What had she been thinking? The idea of using her tech on a child that young... it was a step too far, even for her. "You're right, Sophia," she said quickly, trying to smooth over the awkward moment. "I wasn't thinking. Of course Yvonne is too young for anything like that."

  Nancy, clearly eager to move past her daughter's strange behavior, seized on Taylor's earlier offer. "Well, I certainly wouldn't say no to any help for Terry and me. Lord knows we could use it."

  The conversation gradually resumed, with Zoe deftly steering it towards safer topics. But Taylor's mind was racing. She had come so close to crossing a line she hadn't even realized was there. The thought of using her power on a child that young made her feel slightly ill.

  As the meal progressed, Taylor found herself watching Sophia more closely. The other girl seemed on edge, picking at her food and rarely joining in the conversation. Was it possible that some part of Sophia was fighting against the conditioning? The thought was both intriguing and slightly alarming.

  "So, Emma," Alan said, breaking into Taylor's thoughts, "how are things going with your modeling? Any exciting new opportunities on the horizon?"

  Emma's face lit up. "Actually, yes! The agency called yesterday about a potential shoot for a national campaign. It's still in the early stages, but if it works out, it could be a huge break."

  "That's wonderful, honey," Zoe beamed. "We're so proud of you."

  Taylor smiled at her friend's excitement, but she couldn't help noticing the slight frown on Nancy's face, the way Terry hunched his shoulders a little more. The contrast between the two families was stark - the Barnes, successful and upwardly mobile, and the Hess family, struggling to get by.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  It only reinforced Taylor's belief in the importance of her work. With her help, people like Nancy and Terry could have the same kinds of opportunities that Emma and her family enjoyed. And if that meant bending a few ethical lines... well, wasn't the end result worth it?

  As the conversation continued to flow around her, Taylor found herself planning her next steps. She would need to be more careful, more strategic in how she applied her power. But she was more convinced than ever that she was on the right path.

  The meal began to wind down, with everyone leaning back in their chairs, pleasantly full. Danny stood, raising his glass in a toast.

  "I'd like to thank the Barnes family for hosting us today," he said, his voice warm. "And to all the cooks - Taylor, Emma, Sophia, and Zoe - for this incredible meal. I'm grateful to be here with all of you, sharing good food and good company. To family and friends, both old and new."

  "To family and friends," everyone echoed, clinking glasses.

  As they began to clear the table, Taylor caught Sophia's eye. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of... something. Confusion? Resistance? But then it was gone, replaced by Sophia's usual neutral expression.

  Taylor pushed the thought aside. There would be time to deal with Sophia later. For now, she had a family to celebrate with, and a future to plan. A future that, thanks to her efforts, was looking brighter by the day.

  Taylor spotted Theo waiting for her near the mall entrance. As she approached, she noticed he wasn't alone - Jessica and Nessa were with him, chatting animatedly. Theo's face lit up when he saw her, and he waved her over.

  "Taylor! Over here!" he called.

  As Taylor joined the group, Jessica and Nessa turned to her with matching mischievous grins.

  "Well, well," Jessica said, her tone playful. "What's a smart, cute girl like you doing with our little cousin?"

  Nessa chimed in, "We were just telling Theo how lucky he is."

  Theo groaned. "Please don't start..."

  But the twins were already off and running, alternating between them as they listed Theo's supposed pros and cons.

  "He's rich," Jessica began.

  "But he wet the bed until he was four," Nessa countered.

  "He's handsome," Jessica offered.

  "But terminally shy," Nessa added with a smirk.

  "I'm not shy!" Theo protested, his cheeks reddening.

  Nessa raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Then why wouldn't you look at me when I was talking to you this morning?"

  Theo's blush deepened. "Because you were prancing around in just a shirt and your underwear!"

  Nessa waved her hand dismissively. "Oh please, we grew up together. That shouldn't bother you."

  Theo groaned again as the girls giggled. Taylor couldn't help but smile at their antics, even as she felt a twinge of sympathy for Theo.

  Jessica glanced at her watch. "Well, we should be off. You two lovebirds enjoy your date." She winked at Taylor before linking arms with her sister and sauntering away.

  As Theo and Taylor began to walk through the mall, she noticed the changes in his physique. His shoulders seemed broader, his posture more confident. The exercises with Brad were clearly having an effect.

  They were stepping off an escalator when Theo suddenly winced, stumbling slightly. Taylor reached out to steady him, concern etching her features.

  "Are you okay?" she asked.

  Theo nodded, straightening up. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just strained something during one of Brad's workouts."

  Taylor's brow furrowed. "Are you sure he's not pushing you too hard? You shouldn't overdo it."

  "No, no," Theo assured her quickly. "Brad pushes me, sure, but he knows what he's doing. He's actually a surprisingly good trainer. I'll be fine, I promise."

  Taylor studied him for a moment, then nodded, letting the subject drop. As they continued walking, she changed the topic.

  "You know, I've met Nessa and Jessica a few times before, through Emma's modeling work," she said. "I feel kind of bad - I didn't think much of them at the time."

  Theo chuckled. "That's probably exactly what they wanted you to think. They're very good at letting you see only what they want you to see. They learned from the best."

  There was something in his tone that made Taylor wonder if he was referring to more than just the twins' modeling careers, but she didn't press.

  Theo continued, a bit embarrassed. "To be honest, they weren't too fond of Emma at first. She was moving up the ranks at the agency so quickly... I heard more than one tirade about 'that Barnes bitch'." He winced, realizing how that sounded. "But they're fine with her now! Really."

  Taylor laughed. "Don't worry, I get it. I was on Emma's bad side for a while too. She can certainly be a bitch when the mood strikes her."

  They shared a knowing look, both intimately familiar with the challenges of dealing with strong-willed sister figures.

  As they passed a lingerie store, Taylor couldn't resist teasing Theo a bit. "So, the twins just walk around in their underwear at home, huh?"

  Theo groaned. "They've always done it, but it wasn't a big deal until about a year ago. When Kayden was living with us, it used to drive her crazy. She thought they were mocking her or trying to corrupt me or something."

  "And that's when you started noticing them as 'girls' rather than just 'sisters'?" Taylor asked, her tone light but curious.

  Theo nodded, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, I guess so. It was... awkward."

  "What did your father think about it?"

  Theo shrugged. "Dad didn't seem to care. He didn't understand why Kayden was so upset. Said Heather - my mom - let them do it all the time, and he never thought to change it."

  As their date began to wind down, they found themselves back near the mall entrance. Theo turned to Taylor, a slightly nervous expression on his face.

  "Hey, um, did you happen to bring that Canary song remix I asked about?"

  Taylor nodded, pulling out her phone. "Yep, got it right here." She quickly sent a link to Theo's phone. "There you go."

  Theo's face lit up. "Thanks, Taylor. You're the best."

  Taylor smiled, then, on impulse, leaned in and gave Theo a quick peck on the cheek. His eyes widened in surprise, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

  "I had a great time today," Taylor said softly. "We should do this again soon."

  Theo nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely. I'll call you?"

  "You'd better," Taylor teased, then turned to leave, a warm feeling in her chest.

  As she walked away, her mind was already racing with plans and possibilities. The date had been fun, a much-needed break from the pressures and complexities of her double life. But even in these moments of normalcy, she couldn't fully escape the weight of her goals and responsibilities.

  She thought about Theo's training with Brad, the subtle changes she was seeing in him. It was good that he was getting stronger, more confident.

  Taylor's thoughts drifted to her own plans, the careful groundwork she was laying at Winslow and beyond. The study guides, the subtle manipulations, the gradual reshaping of minds and attitudes. It was a delicate balance, pushing for change without raising too many alarms.

  As she exited the mall, the late afternoon sun warm on her face, Taylor took a deep breath. The path ahead was fraught with dangers and difficult choices, but moments like today - moments of connection, of normalcy - they made it all worthwhile.

  She pulled out her phone, sending a quick text to Emma to update her on the date. Then, squaring her shoulders, she headed home. There was work to be done.

  Kaiser strode into Somer's Rock, the Valkyrie twins flanking him like living statues. The dingy bar was a far cry from his usual haunts, but neutrality had its uses. He scanned the room, taking stock of the assembled villains.

  In a nearby booth, the Undersiders huddled together. Kaiser allowed himself a small smirk. The up-and-coming thieves were making quite a name for themselves, though they were still small fry in the grand scheme of things.

  Uber and Leet occupied another booth, looking decidedly less cocky than usual. Their recent brush with the law over that hooker incident had clearly rattled them. Two strikes down, one to go. Kaiser wondered idly if they'd learned anything from the experience.

  Circus sat alone, nursing a drink. The independent villain's presence was noteworthy, if only for their unpredictability.

  At the main table, familiar faces awaited. Faultline, ever the professional, sat with perfect posture. Coil, a mystery wrapped in black spandex, somehow managed to look both relaxed and coiled for action. Lung lounged with casual menace, a dragon waiting to be roused.

  The surprise was Mush. Gone was the filth-encrusted vagrant. In his place sat a man who, while still rough around the edges, looked almost respectable. Kaiser raised an eyebrow at the Merchant's transformation.

  "No Skidmark?" Kaiser asked as he took his seat, voice dripping with false concern.

  Mush grunted. "He's... indisposed."

  Coil cleared his throat, drawing attention. "Let's get down to business, shall we? We have a situation that needs addressing."

  Kaiser leaned back, projecting an air of calm confidence. "And what situation might that be?"

  "The Master Tinker," Coil said flatly. "Her presence in the Bay is... disruptive."

  Lung growled low in his throat. "She should not be here."

  Kaiser allowed himself a thin smile. "Miss Stepford is operating as a rogue, under the Empire's protection. I fail to see the problem."

  Faultline spoke up, her voice cool and professional. "The problem is her base of operations. A school, Kaiser? That's asking for trouble from the Protectorate."

  "Yeah," Uber chimed in from his booth. "Even we know better than to mess with schools."

  Kaiser shot the wannabe villain a withering glare, silencing him.

  Coil steepled his fingers. "The balance of power in the Bay is delicate. Miss Stepford's abilities are... concerning. Perhaps it would be best if she were to relocate."

  "You mean, give up a valuable resource?" Kaiser scoffed. "I think not. If your hamfisted attempts to recruit her have driven her to seek our protection, that's hardly my concern."

  Lung's eyes narrowed dangerously. "She should not touch what is mine."

  Before Kaiser could retort, Mush surprised everyone by speaking up. "If Miss Stepford is truly operating as an independent rogue, merely allied with the Empire for protection..." He paused, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Then Kaiser should have no problem providing contact information for those of us who might wish to make use of her services."

  The room fell silent. Kaiser felt a flicker of annoyance, carefully hidden behind his mask. He hadn't expected such a clever play from the Merchant.

  Uber and Leet perked up visibly at the suggestion. Even Circus seemed intrigued.

  Coil tilted his head. "And who would be foolish enough to risk obtaining materials from a known Master?"

  Mush shrugged. "If you can't see the possibilities, that's your problem."

  Kaiser's mind raced. He couldn't outright refuse without contradicting his earlier stance, but the idea of Miss Stepford working with other factions was... less than ideal.

  Lung growled again. "I do not like this. She should not touch what is mine."

  Mush turned to the ABB leader, his voice taking on an almost mocking tone. "If you can't control your now more useful subordinates..."

  The implication hung in the air. Kaiser watched as understanding dawned on the faces around the table. The Merchants, under Mush's leadership, were clearly a different beast entirely.

  "Very well," Kaiser said, his voice carefully neutral. "I'll see about arranging contact information for those interested in Miss Stepford's services."

  Mush nodded, looking pleased. "That's all I ask."

  Coil leaned forward. "Then I believe we're done here. Rest assured, we'll all be keeping a very close eye on this... situation."

  As the meeting adjourned, Kaiser's mind whirled with possibilities and contingencies. Miss Stepford's presence in the Bay was proving to be both a boon and a complication. He'd need to tread carefully in the days to come.

  Kaiser strode out of Somer's Rock, the Valkyrie twins falling into step behind him. He'd barely made it ten paces when a voice called out.

  "Kaiser. A word?"

  He turned, annoyance flaring beneath his mask. Mush stood there, looking far too comfortable in his new, cleaner attire.

  "What is it?" Kaiser's tone dripped with disdain. "I have pressing matters to attend to."

  Mush smiled, unfazed. "I'm sure you do. But I think you'll want to hear me out."

  Kaiser considered for a moment, then jerked his head towards a nearby alley. "Make it quick."

  Once they were out of earshot, Kaiser crossed his arms. "Speak."

  "You're a smart man, Kaiser," Mush began. "So I'm sure you've noticed the shifts in the Bay's power structure."

  "If you're referring to your... makeover, I assure you it changes nothing."

  Mush chuckled. "Oh, it changes everything. But that's not what I'm here to discuss." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "With Oni Lee injured, the ABB's ability to project strength is severely limited."

  Kaiser scoffed. "I don't need a Merchant to tell me about my enemies' weaknesses."

  "Of course not," Mush agreed. "But consider this: while none of us can directly challenge Lung, he can't be everywhere at once."

  "And?" Kaiser's patience was wearing thin. "I don't need the Merchants for that. The Empire is more than capable of handling the ABB."

  Mush nodded. "True, true. But here's the thing, Kaiser – your ideology precludes you from dealing with Brockton's significant minority population. That's a very untapped market."

  Kaiser's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "A market for what, exactly? Your poisons? Your filth?"

  "Now, now," Mush held up his hands. "I know you find our previous business practices... distasteful. Addicting children, forcing people into dependency – that was all under the old management."

  "And I'm to believe you've had a change of heart?" Kaiser's voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Mush shrugged. "Not a change of heart. A change of strategy. The current management is looking for something more sustainable long-term."

  Kaiser fell silent, considering. As much as he loathed to admit it, Mush had a point about the Empire's limitations in certain areas of the city.

  "We both know that Miss Stepford is going to mean big changes for the Bay," Mush continued. "This rising tide can lift all ships – for those who recognize it."

  Kaiser's fists clenched at his sides. The idea of working with the Merchants, even in a limited capacity, turned his stomach. And yet...

  "Get out of my sight," he growled.

  Mush raised an eyebrow. "Is that a no, then?"

  Kaiser remained silent for a long moment. Finally, he spoke through gritted teeth. "I'll get you the contact information for Miss Stepford."

  A triumphant grin spread across Mush's face. "Excellent. I look forward to working together." He gave a mock salute and sauntered away, leaving Kaiser seething in the alley.

  Kaiser watched Mush's retreating form with a mixture of disgust and grudging respect. Once the Merchant leader was out of sight, he turned to the twins.

  "I don't like this," Jessica said, her voice tight with concern.

  Nessa nodded in agreement. "Working with the Merchants feels... wrong. They're filth."

  Kaiser sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging slightly beneath the weight of his armor. "I share your distaste, ladies. But we must look at the bigger picture."

  He began to walk, the twins falling into step beside him. The late afternoon sun glinted off their armor as they made their way through the mostly deserted streets.

  "The Merchants are indeed much more dangerous now," Kaiser continued. "Mush has proven to be far more cunning than his predecessor. But this situation also presents an opportunity."

  Jessica tilted her head. "An opportunity, sir?"

  Kaiser nodded. "Yes. This is a chance to see how well Miss Stepford performs, to test the limits of her abilities."

  Nessa's eyes widened in understanding. "You mean to use the Merchants as guinea pigs?"

  A cold smile spread across Kaiser's face beneath his helmet. "Precisely. Mush is correct about one thing – this is an excellent opportunity to cripple the ABB."

  The trio paused at a street corner, Kaiser's gaze sweeping the area for any potential eavesdroppers before continuing.

  "If we push into ABB territory in force, I'd wager good money that Coil will make moves to check us," Kaiser explained. "Having the Merchants put pressure on both Coil and the other side of the ABB will give us significantly more room to maneuver as needed."

  Jessica frowned. "But sir, won't that just make the Merchants stronger in the long run?"

  Kaiser chuckled darkly. "That, my dear, is where Miss Stepford comes in. Her job will be to ensure the Merchants don't become a problem after we've dealt with our other... obstacles."

  The twins exchanged a glance, a mix of admiration and unease in their eyes.

  "It's a risky play," Nessa said cautiously.

  Kaiser nodded. "Indeed it is. But the potential rewards far outweigh the risks. If successful, we could eliminate two of our major rivals and secure our hold on the city."

  They walked in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Jessica spoke up.

  "What about the heroes? Won't they notice if we start making big moves?"

  Kaiser waved a dismissive hand. "The PRT and Protectorate are stretched thin as it is. And with Miss Stepford's influence growing at Winslow, they'll be even more distracted."

  He paused, his voice taking on a contemplative tone. "Besides, I have reason to believe there may be... internal conflicts brewing within their ranks. Nothing we need concern ourselves with directly, but it should keep them sufficiently occupied."

  Nessa nodded slowly. "And Lung? He won't take kindly to us encroaching on his territory."

  A hint of excitement crept into Kaiser's voice. "Lung is powerful, yes. But he's also predictable. With Oni Lee out of commission, he'll be forced to respond personally to any major threats. We'll use that to our advantage."

  The twins shared another look, this one filled with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

  "It sounds like you've thought this through thoroughly, sir," Jessica said.

  Kaiser allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "I always do, my dear. Now, we have preparations to make. I want you two to start gathering intelligence on the ABB's current operations. We need to identify their weak points before we strike."

  The twins nodded in unison. "Yes, sir."

  As they continued their walk back to Medhall, Kaiser's mind raced with possibilities. The board was set, the pieces were moving into place. With Miss Stepford's abilities and the chaos of gang warfare as cover, he could reshape Brockton Bay into his vision.

  Meanwhile, across town, Taylor Hebert sat in her new lab at Medhall, surrounded by equipment worth more than she'd ever dreamed of possessing. She carefully adjusted a delicate piece of circuitry, her brow furrowed in concentration.

  A soft knock at the door broke her focus. "Come in," she called, not looking up from her work.

  Othala entered, a tray of food balanced on one hand. "I thought you might be hungry," she said, setting the tray down on a nearby table. "You've been in here for hours."

  Taylor blinked, suddenly aware of the ache in her back and the rumbling in her stomach. "Oh, wow. I didn't realize..." She stretched, wincing at the pop in her shoulders. "Thanks, Othala."

  The other girl smiled warmly. "It's no trouble. How's the project coming along?"

  Taylor's eyes lit up. "It's amazing! I've never had access to materials like this before. The possibilities are just..." She trailed off, gesturing excitedly at the half-finished device on her workbench.

  Othala nodded, though her expression betrayed a hint of confusion. "That's great! I'm sure whatever you're working on will be incredible."

  Taylor caught the look and felt a twinge of guilt. She'd been so caught up in her work, she'd barely interacted with anyone since arriving at Medhall. "I'm sorry, I must sound like a crazy person. How about we have lunch together? I could use a break."

  Othala's face brightened. "I'd like that."

  As they settled in to eat, Taylor found herself relaxing. Othala was easy to talk to, eager to learn about Taylor's work without pushing too hard.

  "So," Othala said between bites, "how are you finding everything here? Is it... what you expected?"

  Taylor considered the question carefully. "It's different," she admitted. "I'm still getting used to... well, all of this." She gestured vaguely around the lab.

  Othala nodded sympathetically. "It can be overwhelming at first. But you're doing great, really. Everyone's impressed with what you've accomplished so far."

  "Everyone?" Taylor raised an eyebrow.

  "Well," Othala grinned, "I might have overheard Victor and Kaiser talking. They seem very pleased with your progress."

  Taylor felt a flutter of pride, quickly followed by a pang of unease. She pushed the feeling aside, focusing on her food.

  "Can I ask you something?" Othala said after a moment of comfortable silence.

  "Sure."

  "Why did you choose the name 'Miss Stepford'? It's just... different from what I would have expected."

  Taylor set down her fork, considering her words carefully. "It's a reminder," she said finally. "Of what I'm working towards."

  Othala tilted her head, curious. "Which is...?"

  "A better Brockton Bay," Taylor said, her voice growing more passionate. "One where people are safe, where they can reach their full potential. Where families are strong and communities support each other."

  Othala nodded slowly. "That sounds... nice. But how does 'Stepford' fit into that?"

  Taylor smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Well, the Stepford Wives were all about creating the perfect community, right? Even if the methods were a bit... extreme."

  Othala laughed. "I see. So you're what, the kinder, gentler version?"

  "Something like that," Taylor agreed, her smile fading slightly. "I want to help people, Othala. Really help them. Not just put band-aids on problems, but fix things at their root."

  Othala's expression grew serious. "I understand that. It's why I joined the Empire, you know? To make a difference."

  Taylor nodded, careful to keep her face neutral. "And has it? Made a difference, I mean?"

  Othala was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. "I think so," she said finally. "But... maybe not as much as I'd hoped. Not yet, anyway."

  Taylor reached out, squeezing Othala's hand. "Well, maybe together we can do more. For everyone in the Bay."

  Othala smiled, squeezing back. "I'd like that."

  As they finished their meal, Taylor felt a mix of emotions swirling in her chest. Guilt at the deception, determination to see her plans through, and a genuine fondness for Othala that she hadn't expected to feel.

  "Thanks for lunch," Taylor said as Othala gathered the dishes. "And for the company. It's nice to have someone to talk to who isn't..."

  "Completely obsessed with cape stuff?" Othala finished with a grin.

  Taylor laughed. "Exactly."

  As Othala left, Taylor turned back to her workbench, her mind racing with new ideas. She had a lot of work to do if she was going to change Brockton Bay for the better. And maybe, just maybe, she could help people like Othala see a different path along the way.

  Across town, in a nondescript office building, Coil sat at his desk, reviewing the latest reports from his operatives. The meeting at Somer's Rock had been... enlightening, to say the least.

  He pulled up a file on his computer, labeled simply "Stepford." The dossier was frustratingly thin, but growing by the day. A mind-control Tinker operating out of Winslow High School, now apparently allied with the Empire 88. It was a concerning development, to say the least.

  A knock at the door interrupted his musings. "Enter," he called.

  Mr. Pitter, his most trusted lieutenant, stepped inside. "Sir, I have the latest information on the Winslow situation."

  Coil leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Go on."

  "Our operative reports that the improvements in student performance continue to accelerate. GPAs are up across the board, disciplinary issues are down, and there's even talk of expanding some of the advanced placement programs."

  "Interesting," Coil mused. "And the faculty?"

  Mr. Pitter shuffled through his notes. "They seem to be fully on board with whatever is happening. Principal Blackwell in particular is throwing her full support behind these... study guides."

  Coil nodded slowly. "And what of our attempts to acquire one of these guides?"

  "Limited success, I'm afraid," Mr. Pitter admitted. "We've managed to obtain a few of the older ones, but they appear to be... weak, for lack of a better term. Whatever Miss Stepford is doing, it appears to be degrading over time.

  Coil drummed his fingers on the desk, considering. In one timeline, he ordered an immediate assault on Winslow, consequences be damned. In the other...

  "Keep pushing," he said finally. "I want eyes on every aspect of that school. And increase our efforts to infiltrate Medhall. If Miss Stepford is working with the Empire, that's where we'll find her."

  "Yes, sir," Mr. Pitter nodded. "There's one other thing. Our mole in the PRT reports increased chatter about Winslow. They're starting to take notice."

  Coil allowed himself a small smile. "Good. Let them. The more attention on the school, the less they'll be looking at us."

  As Mr. Pitter left, Coil turned back to his computer, pulling up a different file. This one labeled "Undersiders." Perhaps it was time to put his pet project to use. A distraction, to keep the heroes occupied while he dealt with this new... complication.

  He reached for his phone, dialing a familiar number. "Tattletale," he said when the line connected. "I have a job for you and your team."

  Mush strode into the Merchants' hideout, his posture straight and confident - a far cry from the hunched, shambling figure he'd once been. The place still reeked of chemicals and unwashed bodies, but there was an undercurrent of... purpose now. Organization.

  He paused in the main room, blinking in surprise at the sight before him. Skidmark hovered several feet off the ground, legs crossed in a lotus position, eyes closed. For a moment, Mush felt a flicker of concern - had the 'boss' finally fried his last brain cell?

  Then he noticed the faint shimmer of Skidmark's power fields, carefully arranged to support his weight. Clever, in a junkie savant sort of way.

  "Yo, Skidmark," Mush called out. "How's it hanging?"

  Skidmark's eyes snapped open, bloodshot and unfocused. "The wheels, man. The wheels within wheels. They're all connected, you know? Like a big... wheely thing."

  Mush nodded slowly. "Right. And how's the work coming along? Any progress on those new rides?"

  "Oh yeah, yeah," Skidmark babbled, gesticulating wildly. "We got... we got the Bookmobile, right? But it's not just for books, it's for... for knowledge, man. And then there's the... the Think Tank. It thinks! And shoots stuff!"

  "Uh-huh," Mush said, trying to parse meaning from the drug-addled rambling. "Sounds like you and Squealer have been busy."

  "Busy busy busy," Skidmark agreed, nodding so hard Mush thought his head might fall off. "Like... like bees, man. But with cars instead of honey."

  "That's great, boss," Mush said, plastering on a fake smile. "Why don't you get back to your... meditation? I'm gonna go check on Squealer, see how things are coming along."

  Skidmark's only response was to close his eyes again, muttering something about "the geometry of thought" under his breath.

  Shaking his head, Mush made his way deeper into the hideout, towards Squealer's workshop. The clanging of metal and the occasional curse told him he was on the right track.

  He found Squealer bent over the engine block of... something. It looked like someone had fused a tank, a bulldozer, and a library into an unholy amalgamation of steel and circuitry.

  "Squealer," he called out. "Got a minute?"

  She straightened up, wiping grease from her hands. Mush was surprised to see her eyes were clear, her movements steady. No sign of her usual chemical haze.

  "What do you want?" she asked, wariness clear in her tone.

  Mush spread his hands in a gesture of peace. "Just checking in. Skidmark was... less than coherent about your progress."

  Squealer snorted. "Yeah, well, that's Skidmark for you. But we've been making headway. Got a couple new rides almost ready to roll."

  "I can see that," Mush said, eyeing the monstrosity behind her. "Want to give me the rundown?"

  Squealer hesitated, clearly torn between pride in her work and suspicion of Mush's motives. Finally, professional enthusiasm won out.

  "This here's the Bookmobile," she said, patting the vehicle's armored flank. "Skidmark came up with the name, but I did the real work. It's got a mobile broadcasting system built in, can pump out those freaky study guide signals over a whole neighborhood."

  "Impressive," Mush nodded. "What else you got?"

  Squealer led him over to another hulking shape, covered by a tarp. She yanked it off, revealing a sleek, predatory-looking machine.

  "This is the Think Tank," she said, a note of frustration creeping into her voice. "It's... well, I'm not entirely sure what it does, to be honest. I built it while I was high as a kite on those study guide things. It's got some kind of... I don't know, thought amplification system? And a really big gun."

  Mush raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember building it?"

  Squealer shook her head. "Not really. It's all kind of a blur. I know I did it, and I can see how it all fits together, but... it's like trying to remember a dream, you know?"

  "Must be frustrating," Mush said, his tone sympathetic.

  "You have no idea," Squealer grumbled. "I've built better stuff than I've ever managed before, but I can't replicate it. Not without..." she trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

  "Without what?" Mush prompted.

  Squealer sighed. "Without getting blitzed on those freaky study guides again. And I'm not sure I want to do that. It was... intense. Scary, even."

  Mush nodded slowly, considering his next move. He needed Squealer on board, but pushing too hard might backfire.

  "I understand your concerns," he said carefully. "But think of the possibilities. With tech like this, we could really make a name for ourselves. Take the Merchants to the next level."

  Squealer's eyes narrowed. "The next level, huh? And where exactly do you fit into all this? 'Cause from where I'm standing, it looks like you've been calling the shots while Skidmark and I were out of it."

  Mush held up his hands. "Hey now, I'm just trying to help. Someone had to keep things running while you two were... indisposed."

  "Uh-huh," Squealer said, unconvinced. "And I suppose all that new cash flow is just a happy accident?"

  "It's good business sense," Mush countered. "We've got better product now, more reliable dealers. People are starting to take us seriously."

  "Yeah, I noticed," Squealer said. "But what happens when Skidmark comes down? You really think he's gonna be cool with you muscling in on his turf?"

  Mush shrugged. "Skidmark's still the boss. I'm just... helping him realize his vision."

  Squealer barked out a laugh. "His vision? Have you seen him lately? He can barely string two words together."

  "Which is why he needs us," Mush pressed. "To make the Merchants into something more than just a bunch of junkies pushing cut-rate product."

  He could see Squealer wavering, torn between suspicion and the allure of real success. Time to sweeten the pot.

  "Look," he said, "I've got a line on some primo parts. Top-shelf stuff you couldn't get your hands on before. And..." he paused for effect, "I might have a way to get in touch with that Winslow Tinker. The one calling herself Miss Stepford."

  Squealer's eyes widened, but then she shook her head. "I don't know, man. Mixing my stuff with some mind-control Tinker tech? That's a recipe for disaster."

  "It's not mind control," Mush insisted. "It's... optimization. Making people better versions of themselves."

  "Yeah, well, maybe I like myself just fine," Squealer muttered. "If I want to get blitzed, I'll do it the old-fashioned way."

  Mush's expression hardened. He hadn't wanted to play this card, but Squealer wasn't leaving him much choice.

  "About that," he said, his tone deceptively casual. "See, I've been thinking. If we're gonna clean up our image, maybe it's time we cleaned up our act too. No more recreational use for the higher-ups."

  Squealer's jaw dropped. "You're shitting me."

  Mush shook his head. "I'm serious. Either you use the study guides with your work, or you don't use anything at all. Cold turkey."

  "You can't do that," Squealer sputtered. "Skidmark would never-"

  "Skidmark's not exactly in a position to argue right now," Mush cut her off. "And by the time he comes down, it'll be a done deal."

  Squealer opened her mouth to protest further, but a movement behind Mush caught her attention. She looked past him, her face paling slightly.

  Mush turned to see Whirligig and Trainwreck standing there, silent and imposing. He hadn't called them, but their timing was perfect.

  "Ah, good," Mush said, as if he'd planned this all along. "Squealer, I don't think you've met our newest recruit. This is Trainwreck. He'll be working with you from now on."

  Trainwreck, a hulking figure of mismatched machinery and scavenged parts, gave a curt nod.

  "What, you're replacing me now?" Squealer demanded, her voice rising.

  "Not replacing," Mush assured her. "Supplementing. Two Tinkers are better than one, right? And Trainwreck here is happy to work with the study guides. Aren't you, Trainwreck?"

  The cyborg cape nodded again. "Whatever gets the job done," he rumbled.

  Squealer looked from Mush to Trainwreck to Whirligig, realization dawning on her face. This wasn't a negotiation. It was an ultimatum.

  "Fine," she spat. "You win. I'll use the damn study guides. But I swear to God, Mush, if this blows up in our faces..."

  Mush smiled, all teeth and no warmth. "It won't. Trust me, Squealer. We're on the verge of something big here. The Merchants are about to become a real power in this city. Don't you want to be a part of that?"

  Squealer glared at him for a long moment, then turned back to her workbench. "Whatever," she muttered. "Just get me those parts you promised. And tell your new lapdog to stay out of my way."

  Mush nodded to Trainwreck, who lumbered over to an unoccupied corner of the workshop. Whirligig remained by the door, a silent sentinel.

  "I'll have everything you need by tomorrow," Mush promised. "In the meantime, why don't you give Trainwreck the tour? I'm sure you two will work great together."

  Squealer's only response was a noncommittal grunt. Mush took that as his cue to leave. He had other matters to attend to, now that Squealer was... properly motivated.

  As he walked away, he allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. Things were coming together nicely. The Merchants were evolving, becoming something more than just another gang of addicts and pushers. With Miss Stepford's tech and Squealer's inventions, they'd be a force to be reckoned with.

  And if Skidmark or Squealer had a problem with the new direction? Well, there were always ways to deal with troublesome elements. After all, in this business, overdoses happened all the time.