"Why do this?" Evil Taylor asks as you walk along. "I could just betray our pact and accept the consequences, you know. Even if I can't kill you, I can reveal all your secrets."
"Mm-hm," you agree. "And what would happen if you did? After I killed you, I mean."
"You'd... leave town, and start over with a bunch of new identities elsewhere." She sighs. "It wouldn't be satisfying at all."
She sulks for a while before speaking up again.
"But what possible use could you have for me as a minion?"
It's sobering to see a powerless you from the outside, and realize just how suicidal you were. She's practically
begging you to kill her.
"What would you do with yourself, if you were me? Which you are."
She shuts her mouth firmly, clearly not wanting to give you any good ideas if you haven't already thought of them yourself. Which you have, of course, because you're the same person.
"You're already helping," you say cheerfully. "Just us walking along like this proves that Low Key and Quicksilver couldn't possibly be the same person. But just to make sure we're seen together, you'll make a big show of hiring me to see if there's any way to get your power back."
Evil Taylor nods glumly. That was what she had been thinking too.
"We need to get you some spray tan, though. Unless you think Low Key should have a goth phase?"
"You could always let me learn shapeshifting from you."
"Hah. You're not nearly Mastered enough for that. Yet."
---
You're back in your true form, except five shades paler - which means you're basically impossible to tell apart from your clone.
Aisha looks from one of you to the other. "Not gonna give you the satisfaction," she says, crossing her arms.
"Aren't going to greet your junior minion-sister?" Evil Taylor asks, gesturing towards you. "This is my clone. She has her own hopes and dreams independent of mine, but I've enslaved her on pain of death because I'm a terrible person."
"No,
she's the clone," you say. "And what she's failing to mention is that she's an
evil clone, and her hopes and dreams mostly consist of torturing me to death."
"Mostly?" Aisha asks.
"She'd quite like to torture
you to death first, while I'm forced to watch," Evil Taylor says. "Because we're friends." Then she frowns. "Didn't you say we were meeting someone here?" she asks.
You answer her frown with one of your own. "I did? Can't think of why."
"There's a note in your hand," she points out. "Where are those even coming from?"
You shrug. "Maybe they're from the Simurgh?"
"You think so?"
"Not really, no. Which is exactly what I would think if the Simurgh did it."
"Huh. Well, what's it say?"
"'Reveal who is clone,'" you recite. "I'm the real one. The evil clone can't shapeshift." You turn your hair blonde in demonstration.
"Yet," Evil Taylor says, but she doesn't otherwise try to confuse the issue. She must have inherited your inexplicable trust in the notes along with the rest of your thoughts and memories.
"Valid use of a note!" Aisha says emphatically. "When people start talking about torturing me to death, I bow out!"
"That's fair," Evil Taylor says.
Aisha shoots her a glare before turning to you. "Have you ever had a really great idea for a prank and then thought that no, I shouldn't, it's too much? Because you really should have."
"Says the mastermind behind Double D?"
"Fine, I'm a big fat hypocritamous! What do you even want with a crazy murderous clone-slave?"
You explain the benefits of being able to deploy two identities at the same time. Aisha seems unconvinced that it's worth the risk.
"We'll keep her chained up at night," you say placatingly. "And feel free to kill her if you suspect anything amiss. It's not as if evil clones are people."
"Fucking Duplicette," Evil Taylor mutters. Yeah, a younger, less cynical you had been pretty shocked at the Human Rights Tribunal's decision in the Duplicette case, but it's been codified into international law now: Evil clones aren't people. Geneva conventions need not apply.
---
Emptiness endowment lets you Master people in exchange for making them better. But it only works on things they've expressed discontent about.
"I wish I was better at navigating by the stars," Evil Taylor says, and you grant her wish.
"Don't learn any new powers without explicit permission," you order her in return.
The thing is, if you have someone at your mercy you can just order them to express useless discontent.
"I wish I was better at filling out tax forms," Evil Taylor says.
---
"Am I Mastered enough to learn shapeshifting now, boss?"
"Maybe once I've gotten Regent's power and used it on you."
---
You suppose it's your job to inform Lisa's next of kin, such as they are. Well, Warlord Circus can figure out what happened on her own, as her support dries up. No really, she can. You have faith in her deductive abilities. It's not like you hold a grudge against her or anything. She tried to spy on you, you secretly copied her power. As far as you're concerned, you're even. But that doesn't mean you
like her either, not enough to go out of your way to help.
Warlord Rachel, on the other hand... From what you've heard she's latched on to the venerable Brockton Bay tradition of ethnic gangs, and created an ethnostate for dogs. Thing is, dogs don't pay much in the way of taxes. You should inform her that the food shipments are going to stop now that Coil is dead, so that she may adjust her foreign policy appropriately.
Which only leaves the question of how to get to her. People have been giving her territory a wide berth, because the supremacist nation of Doggonia does not tolerate unterhunden on their turf. And while your shapeshifting sufficed for infiltrating the ABB, it's limited to human forms.
She must have had some arrangement for getting supplies in, you suppose, but anyone who would know what it was is dead now. Nor can you fight your way in - you're confident that you could win against an arbitrary number of monster dogs, but you want to have a conversation with Rachel, not a fight to the death. Which is what you'd get if you hurt her dogs.
Hell, you don't even know exactly where her lair is, beyond 'roughly in the center of her territory'. You had expected Alec to be able to help you out there, but he just shrugs when you ask.
"The boss had a map. Saw it once, but why would I memorize her address? It's not like I was going to visit."
"So everyone who knew where she is is probably dead."
"Why'd you have to go and ruin a good thing anyway?" he complains. "I
liked sitting around and being paid for doing nothing."
"How'd
you feel about having your identity revealed to the world?" you counter.
"That would be bad," he concedes. "Yeah, that'd probably be murder-bad."
The smart thing to do would be to fly in and search from the air, because dogs can't fly (you can
probably fly high enough that not even a fully-grown monster dog could reach you with a leap). But neither can Taylor Hebert, which is the only one of your identities Rachel knows. More sandbagging? More sandbagging. You'd call it the third inevitability of cape life, except as a villain you don't pay taxes.
---
You'd say you're about about halfway to your destination when you see the first dog. It's smaller than you expected, only about lion-sized. It's nearing the end of its patrol shift, you suppose, almost shrunk down to non-fearsome proportions. Or, well, you actually have no idea how organized Rachel is in here. Has she trained the dogs to guard specific areas, or does she just empower them as they show up and let nature take its course?
Of course as you're having these idle thoughts you are also scrambling up the the side of a building, because there's a lion-sized monster bearing down on you.
Well, this is why you packed a grappling hook. After a couple of practice tries you manage to get it to attach to the next roof over. After securing it on your side, all that remains is a tightrope walk above a pack of slavering mutants - because of course the first monster immediately howled for reinforcements when it looked like you were getting away.
No problem at all, in other words. No, really. Absolutely no problem whatsoever. With graceful crane stance you could tap-dance across backwards if you wanted to. You don't, though. You walk across at a sedate pace with your arms held out for balance, remaining mortal-compliant. It's not as if you're going to outrun the dogs when you have to stop and retrieve the rope after each crossing.
In this manner you penetrate deeper into dog territory, but it's only a matter of time before it stops working. Closer to her lair the dogs will be bigger, and soon enough they'll have the strength and claws to climb up after you. You'll... think of something when that happens.
Whups, better think quickly, because that's a monster dog scrambling onto the roof ahead of you. Compromising a smidgeon on the mortal-compliance, you turn on your heel and run back across your tightrope, but the dog just leaps across after you.
"Brutus?" you try. "Judas?" No reaction. You rack your brain for the names of other dogs who might remember you from your minion days as you back away across the roof. "Lucy? Inky? Socks?"
At that last name, it stops advancing on you and perks up. Just in time, because you had reached the edge of the roof.
"Socks! Remember me? I used to feed you and play with you." You remove a glove and hold your hand out for him to sniff. Hopefully-Socks accepts your offer, and carefully sniffs your hand - and then your face, and the rest of your body. You remain tensed throughout, ready to shadow-dodge away in an instant if it looks like he's going for a bite instead.
Not being completely stupid, you elected to wear a balaclava for your infiltration attempt. In a worst-case scenario you can abort the mission and use powers to
get away without worrying about being recognized. That doesn't really make being nose-fondled by a giant monster
not nerve-wracking, though. But in the end, the monster takes a step back and makes a huffing sound of... acceptance? He doesn't attack, at least.
"Can you take me to Rachel?" you ask. He just stares at you. Oh, right. You had gotten used to Fenrir as the standard for communicating with giant canines. Socks isn't sapient, though. Does he even know Rachel's name?
"Home?" you try instead. "Let's go home!" At that, he lets out the monster equivalent of a happy bark, and jumps off the roof. Then he turns around and looks up expectantly, waiting for you to follow.
---
"Who's this?" Rachel asks. She's talking to Socks, but you step forward and remove your balaclava, and answer in his stead.
"It's me. Taylor."
"Oh. Whaddaya want?" It's not the warmest of greetings, but it's a far sight better than what you'd have gotten if you'd come in another guise.
"Bearer of bad news, I'm afraid" you say, before stopping to wonder if you're exceeding her English levels too. "Lisa's dead," you finish simply.
"Who did it?" Rachel demands.
"Coil." You hold up your hand when she looks like she's about to call for her dogs and go on a crusade right here and now. "I killed him already."
"Good." With that, she seems to put the entire matter behind her.
"With both of them gone, you won't be getting any more support," you point out.
"I can manage on my own. Always have."
"Never thought otherwise," you say, hands held out placatingly. "Just wanted to let you know, you know."
Rachel just grunts in response. "How's Bubbles?" she asks after a moment.
Of course she'd ask that. You're stupid for not expecting it. "Dead," you say thickly, looking away. "Leviathan." Rachel doesn't say anything. You keep looking away as the silence lingers. You fully expect her to attack you for your negligence, and you're willing to give her a free shot. You deserve it.
Instead she shoves a puppy into your arms.
"Wha-"
"Therapy puppy," Rachel explains.
Oh. Okay. As long as she isn't trying to give you a
replacement, you can deal. You pet the puppy.
"I lost some of mine too," she says.
---
Your mind-hands pause in their carving almost as soon as you started. "What even was her last name?" you ask.
"Wilbourn, I think," Ghost says.
"How do you spell that?"
"No idea."
You resume carving. Briefly. "I suppose a D.O.B. would be too much to ask for?"
"No shit."
You sigh, and go with your best guess. Once you're done, you let your mind-hands fade and study your work.
LISA WILBORNE
1994-2011
Smarter than you
"It's what she would have wanted," Ghost says.
The paving slab you've carved the words into should be more or less directly above where she was buried in the explosion.
"Not quite smart
enough, though," Aisha says.
"Not the time, Imp."
"Oh, you think
I'm being inappropriate?"
You turn around at her words, only to find that Evil Taylor (in her temporary guise as the mysterious fourth member of BITN) has pulled down her pants and is squatting to relieve herself on the street. Oh for fuck's sake, she's pissing on Lisa's grave. Because you were friends.
"That's petty, even for an evil clone."
