Mutually Assured Domination (Worm)

AN: I've been sitting on snippets of this for a few months now, finally got off my ass and pulled it into the start of a proper story. This is essentially a yuri mind-control/hypnofetish kind of fic, with a small twist. I quite liked writing this one, I don't know how long it will be or when the next one will be released - but I think I'll come back to this one pretty soon (for me) for a chapter 2. Enjoy!

Emma

I awake to find myself strapped in a chair, instinctively straining against my restraints in vain before remembering my situation.

Right. I asked for this.

I wanted to be a hero.

"Anything?" I glance around for the voice, there's another woman already in the room with me - but she isn't the one that is speaking. I belatedly glance upwards, spotting a dim red light winking at me next to the speaker the voice was coming from.

"A Master power. Nothing at the level that we truly need." The woman tells the voice flatly, releasing my restraints in easy, practised motions. Were they- were they talking about me? Did it work? I didn't feel like a superhuman.

And who even wanted to be a Master, anyway? I'd researched all of the types. A Trump would have been best. A Brute. A Blaster. Something flashy, so that I could really rub it in Taylor's face - not that I could ever trust her with the truth, but I would know - without doubt - that I was better. That would have been good enough.

Maybe I shouldn't jump to conclusions. Master could mean anything. It all depended on what I was the new master of. Controlling people wasn't exactly something I could easily become a superhero with, that was more of a villain's power. But equally, if I was going to control something lame, like bugs, that would be an unmitigated disaster as well. There were too many 'bad' scenarios with this power type, the gap between 'villain' and 'useless' was just too small compared to literally any other type. If I was a simple flying brick like Alexandria, that would have been fine. I wasn't greedy, I didn't need to be a top-percentile hero - I just wanted to be... somebody. Someone worthy of respect.

A pause. "Is it safe to be in there?"

"I won't do you any harm." I cough, rubbing my arms as my limbs are freed.

The voice fires back immediately. "Correct, but probably not for the reasons you are thinking."

"Tell me what you mean." I cough again. Was there something wrong with my throat? Something in my throat? Something about my words just sounded a bit... more.

"I have a precognitive power that protects me from being hit by malicious master effects, and passively guides me away from powers that are a threat to my well-being and personal autonomy. If your power was dangerous to me, I would not be here." The woman states simply, sounding bored. "Your power is a speech-based effect that amounts to little more than a persuasive nudge in the short term at your current level of ability, only growing in strength once your target internalises and accepts your words as commonplace routine."

I listen to her words with a sinking feeling. "I can't be-" I stop. Was that my power? That thrum in my throat? Could I turn it off, to speak normally? "I can't be a hero with a power like that."

"That's up to you." The voice over the intercom speaks up this time. "Hero, villain, rogue. You're free to choose your own path, three favours from you at a later date is all that we ask in return."

I want a refund. I bite my tongue before I can say it. Somehow, I got the feeling that was off the table. And I didn't want to see what the sketchy superpowered-mafia did to 'ungrateful' clients that they found annoying. I experiment with my throat a little. "So you'll leave me alone, no matter what I do?"

A blade finds itself at my throat. I swallow, very, very carefully - all too aware that I probably shouldn't be testing out my fancy new powers on the very-dangerous-looking people who had me half-tied up in their secret lair. Brain, Emma. Use it! "As I said, a persuasive nudge. Your powers won't have any effect if someone is completely opposed to them. If I considered you a threat, I would find it trivial to attack you even if you had already commanded me not to - the suggestion would fail completely. The utility of the power comes from slow reinforcement and moving goalposts, rather than immediate feedback and control. Encouragement of something that the target would have been willing, or almost willing, to do anyway."

I give a very small, shaky nod of understanding. The blade is removed. I breathe a sigh of relief.

The intercom buzzes again. "That said, to answer the question, that is an accurate summary of our plans. We have no immediate interest in your power, and we are actively trying to limit our engagement in Brockton Bay to see how local powers interact over time. Whether you succeed and thrive or immediately die is, ultimately, not of particular interest to us at this time."

I blink. Wow. Rude. I mean, the knife was rude too - and I hadn't exactly been polite when it came to intentionally and unintentionally using my power on the pair of women... but admitting that they didn't care if I died was a bit- a bit mean. Right?

Screw them. Whatever.

"We'll leave you at your pre-agreed drop-off location." They continue droning on. "Don't try and find us again. If we need you, we will find you. Door."

"Ah-" I stagger to my feet as I'm practically shunted out of my chair towards a golden hole in the world. 'Door', was it? Aptly named for the apparent command to generate a portal. "-wait, I have more quest-"

A boot presses against my backside, and I go flying through the portal - stumbling over my own feet as a different floor appears beneath me between one-step and the next. I collapse weakly into a chair, looking around at the familiar sight of my home. My room.

I place my head into my hands, focusing on the all-too-sudden developments and revelations from the last few minutes. My memories were a little fuzzy on the specifics, but the transition between me agreeing to the attempt to get powers and actually having them was near instantaneous from my perspective. I'd been knocked out, maybe. Lost consciousness during the process. I don't know, I expected something more dramatic than a quick drink and a bit of screaming myself hoarse.

But now I had powers. The worst type of powers, admittedly, but... powers. Supposedly. Those two didn't exactly give me much of a chance to try them out, but they had seemed pretty confident about the facts. Don't get me wrong, I was happy to have powers. Anyone would be! I just... didn't know what I was supposed to do with them now. What kind of hero could I be? Some kind of crappy therapist in a prison cell, reforming villains one bad habit at a time? Tightly controlled by the PRT, something that my interactions with Sophia had given me an all-too-clear understanding of. Equally, what kind of villain would I be? Slowly conning someone out of their money would hardly be very... 'super' of me. What a joke that would be.

But doing nothing wasn't an option either. The worst option, in fact. But, what else was there? No joining the Wards. Nor joining the gangs. Vigilante action would just get me killed. Doing nothing would be worse than never getting powers in the first place. I had powers, I needed to use them. Just because I wasn't going to be the next Alexandria with them, didn't mean that I couldn't use them for me in other ways.

Or on other people close to me. I turn my head towards a familiar, confident thumping across the floorboards.

"Hm?" Sophia's head appears around the corner. "There you are. Your mom said you were around, but I couldn't find you anywhere. You were in here the whole time?" I open my mouth, I close it again. "Looking completely out of it. Don't tell me you fell asleep in that chair like some old woman, we've got school tomorrow - and some punks to beat up tonight. I'm not dragging you around to watch me kick ass if you can barely keep your eyes open-"

I tune her out distractedly. Sophia. I didn't think about it before, but... I didn't need to announce myself to the world. I was a Master. We worked best in the shadows, controlling things from behind the scenes. I could- I could make a difference in my own way. Sophia had always talked about how ineffective the PRT was. How the bureaucracy held her and all of the other heroes back from making a real difference in the city. If I could... nudge things. Get a few heroes to start seeing her perspective, I might do a lot of good for the city. Not that Sophia would see it that way. She had opinions on Masters. She'd never agree. Which... wasn't necessarily an obstacle. Sophia and I were already close. If I could leverage that, get her to just follow my lead for once - we'd be able to do more together.

"Yeah, my bad. I'll be ready, don't you worry." I nod distantly - pushing myself to my feet as she gestures for me to follow her - animatedly talking about how she trashed some random girl on the track today.

And, why stop there? If I could get her to listen to me, I could curb a few of her more bull-headed ideas. Tame her a little. I liked Sophia, but I wasn't blind to the fact that she could be a little reckless sometimes. A not-quite model hero. But she could be. I could make her one, if I just put her worst impulses on a leash - she could be the best hero in the Bay. People would see that, when they weren't being shown the brooding antihero that runs away from press conferences and leaves a trail of bloody, broken bones behind her. Not that I was opposed to that look entirely, but I was a model and if I understood one thing - it was about the importance of image.

Sophia would understand too, if she could only take her emotions out of it. She was a results-oriented, pragmatic person. She'd be in complete support of the idea if it didn't involve her and the Protectorate. But that wasn't something I could avoid. She was my only way in. My biggest advantage, my biggest obstacle. My only chance to do something selfless and noble for the city, and for Sophia as well - come to think of it. I'd be doing something for her that the city, nor the Wards, nor her family had ever managed to do for her. I'd be an authority figure that she could respect. That she could safely submit to. She wouldn't realise it immediately, I'd need to set my power to work - but if I made her just suggestible enough, just submissive enough to recognise that I was the only person that she could really trust and give herself up to? That would be the moment that we both became partners in truth. More powerful together than either of us were alone.

"Hey." Sophia pipes up. "Looking forward to seeing Hebert tomorrow? I'm thinking about the locker plan again. The bins in the girls toilets are filled with disgusting trash, they never empty them that fast - we could fill most of the locker with that before we shove her in. She'd love that, all of the bugs can keep her company and she'd start to smell better too."

Small steps. Her thoughts were like... a river. If I just tried to throw down a massive dam to control her immediately, I'd be swept away without being noticed. But I could nudge the sides, could place down a few bricks here and there - seeking, over time, to redirect the flow wherever I wanted. Small changes, reinforcing themselves and becoming normal over time. That was what that woman had said. So I needed to throw out just a few commands that were only a small stretch from our current relationship.

I give it a try. "Sophia." I clear my throat. Messed up. I activate my power again. "Leave Taylor to me."

She gives a saucy grin. "Hell no." She denies me flatly. "You think I'm really going to let you have all the fun? But if you've got a better idea, I'm all ears."

That was too much. Or, maybe I just hadn't justified the thought process enough. "It's personal for me, you know that. I wouldn't exclude you, I just want to handle her in my own way. Follow my lead when it comes to Taylor. I'll make the plan, and-" I stop myself from saying that she should follow my instructions. That would be shot down due to bad wording alone. "-and then we can execute it together."

Sophia rolls her eyes. "Fine, fine. Don't get your panties in a knot about it. You can come up with some grand plan this time. I'll be waiting. Bored out of my mind. As usual." She crosses her arms. "But don't blame me if you take too long and I see a perfect opportunity come up. You might have more history with her, but you're not the only one who enjoys reminding her of her place in the food chain."

I'd mark that down as a partial success. "Don't go running off to do your own thing without me." That wouldn't even sound suspicious. I'd say that normally. "We're friends, aren't we? We do things together. You wouldn't like it if Madison and I had done the locker thing without telling you anything, would you?"

"I get it! Really. The things I do for you, honestly." Sophia grouses. "If you're going to kill all of my fun at school, I hope that at least means that you can get away tonight? I appreciate someone having my back, and I'd rather have you for that than any of the Wards."

"Of course I'll be ready tonight." I smile, a dark little flutter in my chest at the trust on display from the dark-skinned girl. I was- I was abusing that. But it was for a good cause. "And don't act so pouty about school. You're acting like I'm banning you from ever looking at Taylor again. All I want is a bit of time to think of something really special-" My mouth dries. Sophia takes my pause as the end of the sentence and nods in understanding, before stepping off into the kitchen to grab a drink.

Taylor. Master powers. The fact that I had no intention of ever outing myself to the heroes.

I could- I could. The power brokers, they said that they didn't care about my potential for villainy, didn't they? Doing anything to Taylor, it wouldn't even count as villainy. Not really. An indulgence, at best. If I thought about my likely net-impact on the city, with potentially screwing with Taylor a little bit with my powers on one end and unshackling the heroes to sweep away the gangs on the other, it was pretty obvious that I'd be doing far, far more good than bad on balance even if I did, maybe, use my powers on Taylor.

I wouldn't even be changing that much. Taylor was already a worm. Inconsequential. I'd just encourage that a bit. Get her to admit the truth to herself., admit the truth to others and finally learn her proper place in the food chain. Below me. To be honest, she'd be happier there. And if she properly begged, there wouldn't even be a real reason to keep bullying her. After all, there would hardly be any point in pushing Taylor down when she was all too willing to kneel and crawl on her own. A Taylor that was honest with herself, we could- we could almost be friends again. Not equals, no - but... if Sophia could tolerate the leeches fawning after her, then I could have the same with Taylor. Surely.

That thought sends a tingle through me. An obedient, submissive Taylor. The things I could do to her... and to Sophia, as well. Not that I would ever allow the two to be equals. Sophia was a predator, Taylor was not. There were levels to this. And, the more I thought about it - the more I realised that I was going to have to be at the top. It made perfect sense, when you thought about it. Master. It was in the name. If I was the Master of Taylor, and the Master of Sophia - I'd naturally be above them in the pecking order of things. It wasn't me dragging Sophia down, I was just... sliding on top of her. Still supporting her. Just... guiding her. Like a manager. Heroes had those, right?

When I thought about it like that, maybe this power wasn't so bad after all. Even if I'd gotten a more traditional powerset, unless I was a complete powerhouse - Sophia's experience would have kept our relationship as one of a senior and a junior. A hero and their sidekick. Perhaps- perhaps this was what I really needed. The only way I could achieve all of my goals. The top predator of the Bay, hidden in the shadows. Discretely working my way up and along the chain of those in power so that the real heroes could do some real work without red tape stopping them.

And if my reward for that was that one or two girls 'accidentally' got a little too attached while I was working towards that noble, selfless cause? That was hardly the worst price for the city to pay for the services I was providing.

Sophia comes back, pulling me from my thoughts - waving her phone at me. "Seems there's an Empire rally going on. Police are sticking their head in the sand, pretending they don't see anything - as usual."

I let an excited grin creep onto my face. "Which leaves a chance for us to find plenty of card-carrying Nazis on the street."

She nods, sharing my enthusiasm. "It's still daytime, so we'll have to keep it real subtle so that the PRT doesn't catch wind of what I'm doing - but I think if we just stick to the alleyways around the edge, we'll be able to get some work done as people come and go. At least until it gets dark, then we can move with a bit more freedom."

I wet my lips. Opportunity. "Sounds like a plan. Let's get changed then." I toss her usual bag of dark clothing from the corner of my room over to her. The mask was separate. Standard civilian attire at first glance, but easily converted into something resembling her hero outfit with a few additions that could be carried separately.

"Be right back." She takes a step away.

"What, are you shy?" I taunt. "Get changed in here, we're both girls. We have nothing to hide." I smile. "Unless that bothers you, of course."

"Why would it bother me?" Sophia sends me a derisive look. "I'm the one that does track here, you really think I have any worries about getting changed in front of another girl?"

"I didn't say it made sense, but you were the one going through extra effort to avoid it." I shrug. "I thought you were having self-image problems, or something."

"I was just being polite." She still sounds annoyed at the implication I'd made. "It's not my house, that's all there was to it. I don't have... self-image problems. Seriously? Look at me. I worked for this body." I was already looking, I didn't need her to say anything.

"Well, I don't mind seeing your body. And you've got a body to be proud of, so you don't mind showing it off. There's no real reason for either of us to be shy or hide ourselves away in private." I tell her, power thrumming in my voice. Nothing I was saying was wrong. Not really. And even the end-goal was something that Sophia probably wouldn't even be that opposed to with no powers.

"For the last time, I am not shy!" She unclasps her bra in one motion, before whipping both that and her shirt away and over her head in one motion. "Happy?" She jiggles as she steps towards me, hands planted on her hips. "This is what you wanted, so you can't complain now - can you?"

"No complaints here." I fail to lift my eyes away. God. She was so perfect. And she knew it, too. My good looks were mostly down to genetics. Hers were down to pure effort. A body that was crafted, more than something she'd been born with.

"Take a picture, it will last longer." She drawls. "Don't tell me that you, of all people, are jealous of these puppies." She grabs a handful of her own tits, spreads her hands wide and deep before letting go again. Fuck. That tease. She didn't even realise what she was doing to me.

"I was just looking at the scar." I lie. "It's been a while. It looks as impressive as ever."

"Yeah." Her chest jiggles again as she peers downwards towards her navel, to the jagged line lightly visible on her ebony skin. "Kinda badass-looking, isn't it?" Probably. Toned stomach. Perfect tits. Incredible muscles. The lower half of her clothes tantalisingly close so slipping down around her hips from where she'd started pulling them off moments ago. I've never begged for gravity to do its work so hard in my life. "I'm not going to lie, I kind of regret it not coming from something cooler. Vista's got one from Hookwolf, you know? That's cool as fuck. But I can't show this to someone and proudly say that I glided into a power line and fell twenty-feet onto a barbed wire fence. I'd look like a fucking moron."

"You'd never look like a moron. Besides, who wants a reminder that they lost to Hookwolf on their body?" I defend her.

"True, true." She allows. "I'll tell her that the next time she mentions it. She'll get mad for sure." She laughs lightly at the idea of it, breasts heaving with every jolt.

Scion above, she was so fucking hot.

"Anyway, shouldn't you be getting changed too? If you go out in that, you'll stand out like a sore thumb." She jabs a finger at me. "Too bright. Grab something else."

"I'm going, I'm going." I hop off the chair and head over to my wardrobe. And stop, one drawer half open. Because I had a mirror, and Sophia had finally dropped her jeans to the floor. Her perfect, shaved pussy coming into perfect view as she kicks away her panties as well, stalking back to where she had left the bag of clothes with the easy confidence of a predator. Her ass sways hypnotically as she moves, her nudity completely entrancing-

-until her head turns in my direction as she straightens out the shirt she planned to wear. "Come on, you can't be that indecisive. It's not a fashion statement, any dark colour will do. How many times have we done this now?"

"Y-yeah." Didn't get caught. Focus, Emma. I needed to ease her into this kind of thing. There would be a day when she wouldn't even blink at me staring, but that wasn't today. I'd gotten away with a lot already. Under the defence of... just gals being pals. A little bit of appreciation for each other wasn't- it didn't mean anything on its own. I could be perfectly straight and do that. I wasn't, but I could have been. And if Sophia started to suspect that I wasn't, then this scenario might start to feel uncomfortable for her. Weird. I couldn't have that. "Um, how's this?" I grab my usual outfit.

"Good enough." Sophia grunts as she slips on her new change of clothes with tragic speed and efficiency.

"Right." I pull my shirt up halfway, and stop. I raise an eyebrow at Sophia. "Now who's staring?"

"Me." She drawls. "No big deal, we're both girls - right? Nothing I haven't seen before."

I swallow. "Yeah. Obviously." Turnabout was fair play, fine - but if I was the one using superpowers to perv, it didn't quite feel right for someone to do it back to me without powers of their own. "Just- just don't see why you'd be interested."

"Because you're fucking hot, duh." I almost drop everything at that. "Like you even had to ask. You're a model, don't start acting modest now. It's not like you've got anything to be embarrassed about either." She looks away, focusing on the wall. "But I wasn't trying to make it weird. Let me know when you're ready."

Well. The reassurance was nice. Prompted by my power or not. She was probably just saying it.

But... it wasn't like I minded her looking. "Don't worry. You can look at me as much as you like. If I really minded, I wouldn't be getting undressed in front of you - right?" My voice is getting a little hoarse. Power overuse? Maybe. I shouldn't assume that my limit was a few mere sentences a day though. Everything after drinking the vial had been... rough. I remembered a lot of screaming. That had probably done more of a number on my voice than any powered activity. Something to keep in mind. A bit of practice, a bit of R&R and I would really be able to test the limits of my power from fresh.

"I guess. It's a free country." It's gratifying to see her head swing back around immediately. "But still, hurry up. Don't want to leave it too long. These rallies don't last forever."

I do start moving again. And if, maybe, I lingered on a provocative pose for a little too long? If I struggled a bit too hard to squeeze into my shirt of choice? If I happened to go for a particularly bold set of underwear for the day? Maybe I did. What was Sophia going to say about it? Nothing.

She just watched. And, if you asked me, paid a little too much attention to call it purely platonic interest.

I had barely even done anything yet. I'd knocked down the smallest of obstacles, and now Sophia - of all the people - was ogling me without a shred of shame. She probably didn't even realise she was doing it. And it had barely taken any effort. I could only imagine the effect it would have on someone else, someone as weak-willed as Taylor. Or- or on another hero. The idea sounded somehow more illegal than using it on Sophia, even if it was basically the same. It felt like more of a genuine attack, rather than a glorified attempt to bring my friend on-board with my plans. But I didn't think it was impossible. Even though they had superpowers.

And besides. All of the flashy powersets in the world wouldn't do anything against a quiet, insidious power that slowly brought them under my control. This wasn't a battlefield that anyone was ready to face me in. Sophia was proof of that. All of her training, all of her physical advantages... and she hadn't noticed the ever-so-slight tweaks that my power had made to her thought processes. The small beginnings of a leash forming around her neck. And if even Sophia could fall victim like that, then what chance did anyone else have?

I've already won.

Because at the end of the day:

I was the only real Master in the Bay.

--

Amy

I feel her coming before I see her. Her aura was rarely ever completely 'off', and I was more familiar with the feelings it inspired than most. I don't even need to see her to know where she is, I can see her movements reflected in the attention of the crowd of students flowing around me. People turning to give her the attention she deserves, mouths hanging slightly open in air as a veritable goddess demands their attention with her mere presence.

But I don't turn around. Because if I don't turn around, I won't be tempted. I won't have to look at a vision of perfection, everything that I'd ever desired - and I won't have to think about how easy it would be to make it mine. If I can do that, if I can just not see - not touch-

"Ames!" I find myself glomped from behind. A bone-crushing hug as she tries to surprise me from behind in a mid-air tackle, wrapping her arms around my neck and squeezing tight - breasts straining to break free from their restraints as she obliviously coddles and teases me with her angelic, sinful body. Uncaring about the fact that she had let me through her forcefield. Of the fact that I was now touching her. That my power could now affect her.

That I can see everything. That I can do anything.

And, in less than half a second, my delusions come crashing back down. My foolish belief that this time, I might control myself.

Monster.

Not for liking girls. Not even for liking my own sister, specifically. That would be bad enough on its own. If that got out, the conversation would be awkward... but life would move on. If people discovered my fears about the true strength of my power, they would dismiss my worries as nothing. They would say that I could be trusted. That my power was only dangerous in the wrong hands. Only problematic if someone misused them.

And there was the crux of it.

My hands were the wrong hands. I was misusing them.

And it was far, far too easy. Biologically, my power had no real limits. Not even brains. There was a lot that was unknown there, but I understood it a lot better than most. I had to. I'd seen all manner of addicts and mental illnesses come to me for help. Publicly, I did nothing for them. I fixed the issues with their body, gave them some cheery words of encouragement and set them on their way.

Because no scanner in the world was capable of seeing the work I was doing on their brains. Purely to help, of course, but also to learn. Addiction and dependence. Rewards and punishment. The right hormone levels in the right place at the right time. A study in emotions, and how they could be generated. Analysed. Manipulated. Humans were slaves to their bodies, at the end of the day. When a random addict finally overcomes his demons weeks after a visit from me, nobody even looks in my direction save to thank me for keeping them alive. When they flinch and recoil at the idea of another needle, they think of their near-death moment and the clarity it gave them. Not me. It couldn't be me. Because I didn't do brains.

That was what I told them. Maybe it would have been better if that was the truth. Because for all that I'd helped them, I'd also learned how easy it was to make those changes at the same time. Just as easily as I could help, I could harm as well. For every addiction I could break-

-I could make one as well. Before the initial contact with Vicky has even ended, I apply the usual rush of hormones. Tapping the usual centres in the brain with clinical control and ease. It wasn't- It wasn't a real addiction. Not like the devastating, life-ruining ones that I so often treated. It was- a guilty pleasure. Something that rewarded her for being physical with me. Not sexually. Never sexually. I'd never, ever crossed that line - no matter how much I had yearned to. 

Not yet.

This was bad enough. This was enough of a betrayal. For all that it was little more than encouraging a habit, making her happier as a reward whenever she was with me, making her a little snappier whenever she left to go and see Dean - the betrayal of trust wasn't diminished in the slightest. I was doing this for purely selfish reasons. To get closer to her. Closer to her body. To get more situations like this, where my stupid, oblivious, sexy sister was practically drowning my face into her chest and laughing at my ineffectual flailing the entire time.

Monster. Monster. Monster. But for all that I thought the words, I couldn't bring myself to stop. Not fully. Again, the temptation to do more - go further - pulls at me. So, so easy. Nobody would ever know. I was too good at it. There were so many different ways that I could take what I wanted if I really wanted to. I could stop the wrong emotions from even forming in the first place. Put her into an unresisting haze reminiscent of a beautiful dream, with the memories disappearing like dew with the dawn. I could paralyse her in an instant, leaving me free to toy with her body to my hearts content while she was powerless to do anything about it. I could turn off sensations for parts of her body, leave her utterly oblivious as I groped and kneaded and touched whatever I pleased. I could mirror the strongest addiction I'd ever seen, holding myself as the drug unless she obeyed my every command - and she would fold. It wasn't a matter of willpower at that point, I knew. It was biology. There was no such thing as overcoming it via willpower, because that too - was simple biology to me.

I could. I could. I could. And, for a crazed instant, I almost do.

I shrink away at my own thoughts, shrinking away in real life too. Close. Too close.

Vicky pouts, assuming that my flinch was a protest against the public display of affection. As if I would ever, ever complain about anything she did to me - public or not. "Aw, don't be shy! Ames, you need to lighten up a bit more." She smiles, and the entire world lights up. "I'll take you somewhere fun. We can hit the stores before they close, get you into something more stylish than that hoodie of yours."

No. No. If we went shopping for clothes, Vicky would want to show off her body - posing in all kinds of clothes and her ability to pull literally any look in the catalogue to perfection. And I- I couldn't handle that right now. Not when I had very nearly crossed a line I could never step back across. "Hospital." I whisper drily. "I'd like to go to the hospital." That's what I needed. Stability. Nothing was all that attractive at a hospital. Lots of men. Ugly wounds. Disease and blood. Unsexy, in a word. I could calm down there. Settle into doing some actual good, even if I was a horrible person.

And then I could face Vicky again. And be normal. Or, if I couldn't manage normal - then at least not going any further than this.

But would that work? I'd been getting worse. I was self-aware enough to admit that. Inching closer and closer to something terrible with every passing day that I denied myself what I really wanted.

Vicky makes a face at my request. "Sometimes, you're too much of a saint for your own good. Would it kill you to be selfish every now and then?"

Please stop talking. Please don't say that. You don't have a clue what you're asking for.

I say nothing as we head outside. I say nothing as she bundles me up in her arms, leaping into the sky with effortless ease. I say nothing as I brush against her skin again, sending a light, imperceptible rush through her body at the sensation.

Monster.

So, so easy.

A flick of a switch, once you knew how.

But I can't do that. Not to Vicky.

But I could. I shudder at my own thoughts, made worse by the fact that I knew I was right. I'd kept under the radar for months now. If I really put the effort in, nobody was going to notice that anything was amiss. I knew what normal looked like, on a level so deep that a hundred PRT psychologists and budget Thinkers combined couldn't hope to match.

I wrench myself away from that thought process. I couldn't start thinking like that. When I started thinking about how easy it would be to get away with it, how difficult and unreasonable it would be to detect... that was how I got this far in the first place. How I took a step that I could never undo. Those thoughts weren't idle, they were the first steps to an actual plan that I wasn't sure that I had the self-control to stop myself from following if I had the opportunity.

I was hitting new lows in my head today. It maybe said something that the healthiest thing for me to start focusing on to break this line of thinking was on the pillowy mounds that my body was pressed against as we flew through the air. That would be an improvement, but only by a little. Putting me on a gentler slope downhill, rather than the cliff face towards disaster I was on before.

But... it was better. At least. Fantasising about my sister's body was, while obviously bad, at least somewhat normal for me. I did it all the time, and I hadn't caused an incident yet.

But I do need a better distraction.

I hope the hospital is busy today.

"How long do you plan to be?" Vicky calls down at me. "Mom will probably want to know before she starts cooking."

"I'll be late." I shout back against the wind. "I'll call you. Seven, eight, maybe?" If the hospital didn't have enough patients to keep me that long, there was another just down the road.

"If you're sure. I'll have my phone on me if you want to call it early. Let me know, 'kay?" She sets me down near the entrance, one family swerving to avoid our sudden arrival from the sky. Not that Vicky would have hit them. She was too good for that.

"Sure." I feign a happy smile that slips away to nothing the moment she leaves.

I'm greeted and ushered upstairs almost the second I walk through the door. I'm a familiar sight around here, and the staff are genuinely happy to see me. Probably not because of me personally, but the fact that I'm about to relieve the majority of their workload over the course of the afternoon. I didn't mind that. Not least because it was putting gratitude in the right place. The power was the thing doing the good deeds. Not the person. If this power was given to someone that actually had a functioning set of morals, I'm sure the world would be a better place for it. As it is, this power - that could help so many people - was stuck on a borderline psychotic, incest-crazed deviant that was one scandal away from being sent to the Birdcage and ensuring that the power was never used for anything good ever again.

Nice one, Amy.

Broken leg. Fixed. Stab wound. Closed. Lyme disease. Gone. Two people trying to fake symptoms for painkillers. Kicked out. Another stab wound. Someone hit by a car. Stroke victim. Weak heart. Allergic reaction.

Too quick. Too easy. Too simple. This wasn't distracting me at all.

"Bless you, Panacea." A diminutive man points me at the last room. "That was the last patient that was worth you putting in the effort to see."

I give him a puzzled expression. "What about the last one?" We were both working down the same list of patients. Did I have one extra name on my list compared to his?

"That patient doesn't need any help. Will you be needing me to escort you out of the building, or would you prefer to stick around-"

"I'll let myself out, don't trouble yourself." I shake my head, glancing at his chart. "What was the last one's issue? I don't see anything written down."

"It wasn't a problem." He responds easily. "Nothing worth worrying about."

What? "Excuse me?"

"Hm?" He appears confused. "What's the matter?"

"They must have been in here for something. What was it?" I prompt.

He makes a show of thinking as he looks at his chart. "Taylor Hebert. Shock, minor head trauma. Apparently forced into a locker as a prank and left there for some time. But she's all better now. There's no reason for us to bother her."

"I'll be the judge of that." I pluck his sheet from him. "Whoever did this didn't even finish the form. I'll do it and drop it off at the reception."

"But-" He looks faintly confused. "-there isn't really any need for us to bother her? She's fine."

And I thought this guy was a professional. "Whatever. I'll check in, if she's fine - I'll fill out the missing paperwork and leave it. If not, I'll treat her and do the same. Good enough?"

"I suppose." He sounds doubtful. "I don't see the need, but... very well. Have a good day, Miss Dallon. It's been a pleasure having you here once again."

He turns around and walks back in the direction that he came. What was up with that guy? No treatment methods listed, no observations, barely even a record of the initial reason she came here. If I hadn't arrived, and she'd just left - would there even have been a record of her being here? Why was I the only one who cared? I didn't even work here. I didn't even want to be here, I had only wanted a distraction to stop me from being... me.

I cross the last few steps to the final room. I push open the door and-

"Wait-!"

-stare into the spiral.

I-

I blink. What was I- right. Patient. Last one. Taylor something. I'd zoned out there. Was I that tired? Or was it just stress? Maybe both.

I force a smile onto my face. "Hello! Are you Taylor Hebert?"

She smiles back, brushing aside a collection of unimportant screws and metal gizmos that weren't worth thinking about to make some space to bring her legs back up onto the bed. Lucid enough to play around with the things around her, that was good to see. Making her own entertainment was probably necessary given how uncaring the hospital staff had been about her status here. Maybe she had a phone or some kind of console in the insignificant bag in the corner that I shouldn't touch and wasn't worth worrying about.

"That's me." She forces a smile, a hint of nervousness etched onto her face. "And you're Panacea." Not a question. She knew who I was, which probably explained the nervousness. Even if I wasn't worth much, I was still a Cape. That made people skittish, at the best of times.

I didn't miss the way her hand stayed under the sheets, obviously clutching something. In other circumstances, I would have been worried. It was hardly a new occurrence to find someone with a blade or even a gun trying to threaten me into treatment or to provide them with drugs. But in this case? I wasn't worried because it wasn't a weapon and obviously safe. Not that I specifically knew what it was, but I could respect her privacy now that I knew it wasn't dangerous. It might be a comfort toy. A stress ball. A teddy bear. Whatever.

Moving on. I cough, adopting a professional tone. "I'm not quite sure of the reasons, but whoever was in charge of your case has done a terrible job with the paperwork. Before we can discharge you properly, I'll need you to answer a few questions and do a final checkup if you don't mind."

"Go ahead." Taylor acquiesces.

Unfortunately, no great drama emerges as I race through the list of questions. I had hoped that this might be the great distraction I needed, something big enough to cause whatever administrator was in charge here to throw their hands up in the air and wash their hands of it. But this was... tame. Boring. School bullies being a bit rough with a prank. Minor concussion, some bruises. Stitches on one arm where a stray nail had slashed it open as she was forced in. She didn't try and hold anything back, the anger seemed real enough - but also somewhat muted. She was used to it.

Plain. Maybe that was the word. Taylor was... plain. Boring. If I had to describe her in two words, they would be 'Just Taylor'. Nobody was particularly concerned that she'd ended up here. Her father had been informed, and he'd decided to keep working overtime at his job once she assured him that he was awake, lucid and likely to head home relatively soon.

She wasn't close to anyone.

My fingers itch. Anyone. If I was-

If I was to do something to her, right now. Nobody would know. Not her. Not the hospital staff. Not her father. Not her non-existent friends.

And she wasn't Vicky.

If I had to- If I had to do something. If I had to cross a line. If it was getting to be a bit too much... wasn't she a better outlet than Vicky? Not a hero. Just a... person.

And of course it was still bad. Still morally wrong. But if the choice was between one day snapping and using my powers on Vicky - more than I did already, at least - and using them on some random stranger... the choice was clear.

I shouldn't. The fact that my thoughts were even lingering on the idea was wrong.

"I can do a quick checkup on you now, if you like." I stretch my hand out in offering. This way, I could almost imagine that she was giving me permission. No. Bad Amy. One checkup and then leave.

Leave so that I could get even worse. Leave so that I could eventually snap. Leave so that I could hurt Vicky.

"Please do." The oddly confident smile on Taylor's face is at odds with her nervousness over the course of this little interview. Her hand reaches mine.

Oh.

She's a parahuman.

In an instant my power races across her body, brushing against cells and nerves around the hippocampus, temporarily disrupting the process by which short-term and long-term memories are formed even while her state of awareness descends into a fake dreamlike-trance - all while her body enters a state of pseudo-paralysis. I maintain my grip on her hand even as she inelegantly slumps sideways into the bed, almost faceplanting into the unimportant gadgets that she'd left there.

I knew all the Wards. I knew the Protectorate. I knew New Wave. I'd even treated some of the rogues before.

Was this- was this a villain? Othala? No, she was blonde wasn't she? Not Squealer, certainly. I'd saved her life often enough to know. Rune?

Rune had black hair, I think. And was about the right age. She could be Rune. Maybe Othala hadn't been available, or maybe they just hadn't known at all - if its purely a school-based incident.

A villain was- a villain was the very definition of 'acceptable target'. Even if word somehow got out about what I was doing, I might not even go to jail if I played it right. I was- I was reforming her. Bringing her over to the side of the angels! It couldn't be that hard, surely.

And she was pretty close to my age. She was hardly irredeemable. Why, if I was able to persuade her to switch sides - she'd be an objectively better person than me before long. It wasn't like Rune had any way to mind-control her own allies. She had a safe power. She'd be fine. And I would be able to take partial credit for all the good she did. Kind of.

All I had to do, was target her instead of Vicky. All of the sick, twisted ideas that sprang up in my mind - I had a new canvas for them. The perfect canvas. One that... kind of deserved it. Rune wasn't the worst of villains, but she was still a Nazi.

That would take time though. There were methods I could use that were more immediate, but those had their own risks - and certainly weren't conducive to long-term change. I would need multiple meetings, where I nurtured her newfound bond and dependence on me - and slowly soured her feelings towards the Empire. That would be complicated. I couldn't edit those feelings and memories directly, but I could control the conditioning in response to certain ideas and inputs. I knew what it should look like. I knew how the brain lit up for positive subjects versus negative ones, friends versus foes - trying to puppet that exactly was a messy, complex task when I could just go for the far more natural approach of a superpower-assisted friendship causing her to leave the Empire.

Especially if that friendship was- I pause. Then I don't stop the thought. This wasn't Vicky. I could indulge myself. This was what I needed. She was a better target. The perfect target. If doing something here, anything here, made me less likely to hurt Vicky... then I'd do it a thousand times over if I had to.

"Hey-" I whisper, Taylor blearily shifting under my grasp. "-take off your clothes. This is an examination." Even saying the words alone feels like I just booked my one-way ticket to hell. Jostling her brain into actually executing the action, or more specifically, suppressing the logical parts of the brain trying to work out if something should be done - that was something that Kill Orders got handed out for. If anyone knew I could do this, turning someone into an easily-suggestible mess that was capable of being puppeted along by mere suggestion, muscle memory and the barest amount of assistance from her dreaming brain filling in the gaps to concoct some hazy scenario where this all seemed perfectly reasonable - I'd be Birdcaged. No questions asked.

"Yes, nurse." Taylor giggles lightly, before blearily and awkwardly stripping herself in front of me - even after I momentarily break skin contact. I re-establish it again on her chest, just to be safe. Not just because I wanted to feel up another girl for the first time ever outside of a purely medical scenario. Being aggressively coddled by Vicky didn't count. There was getting a lucky feel as she brushes against me, and then there was actively grabbing a handful of my own volition. Maybe not quite a handful, in this case, Taylor was certainly not Vicky. The girl continues to awkwardly strip, seeming unbothered by my hand placement.

This was- this was evil. I couldn't really defend this. As a medical professional, this was the greatest betrayal of the profession possible. She was completely vulnerable. I could, theoretically, train her instinctual reactions in this state. I could train muscle memory. I could whisper imagined scenarios into her ear and have them settle in her mind just as well as misremembered memories of the past. Instil a trigger to make her mood leap at the sound of my voice or the sight of my face. All things that I could use to gain a deeper bond with her. Widen her trust in me. But, being honest, this had nothing to do with any of that this time around. Nothing to do with my future attempts to make Rune, Taylor, a hero. This was for me.

And gods, it was working. I can only imagine the depraved look on my face as my hands trail her smooth, toned body. Plain, yes - but fit and lean nevertheless. She wasn't Vicky, a fact made only the more obvious as my hands trail across her chest with barely any need to come up and around - but I'd take what I could get. I trail my hands back down. Creating and dispersing an erogenous zone under my fingertips as I go, watching with perverse glee as her pleasure centres light up - her body practically glowing in response to something I'd always imagined using on Vicky.

I knew it would work. I'd never, ever had the opportunity - and probably never would on my original, intended target - but actually seeing it in action made something inside me thrum with excitement. This was different. Fun. Sexy. This girl, Taylor, was shivering and shaking under an orgasm that I'd caused by brushing against her hips with the tips of my fingertips alone. An orgasm that I was in complete and absolute control over. It ended when I wanted, and if I wanted my delightful, villainous doll to sit and squirm a little longer? Then that's what she would have to do.

I let my hands roam more. Hips. Thighs. Ass. Breasts. A daring, sinful idea catches me pressing my lips to hers - and being pleasantly surprised as her dreaming self easily and immediately responds positively, even drawing me in on her own. I let it happen. This way, I could almost imagine it being a two-party affair, something that we both wanted, rather than the disgusting, depraved act of a Cape just waiting for justice to find her at this point.

She won't remember it. The thought comes, and I dismiss it just as fast. Not because it was wrong. Because it did make me feel a bit better, but because it was true and I almost didn't want it to be. Because if I accepted that little fact as something that made this even slightly more acceptable or reasonable for me to do, then there would be no reason that I couldn't apply the same logic to Vicky. And I can't do that. I mustn't do that.

I could do this because she was a villain. Because I was going to make it up to her eventually, by making her into a real hero with a bright future - the exact opposite of me. That was it. That was the difference I needed to focus on. It was nothing to do with ability. Nothing to do with the fact that just as easily as I had Taylor begging, squirming, squealing - I could just as easily do it to Vicky. It was about who, rather than how. Acceptable targets. That was all.

Monster.

I could go further. I could do anything to her. I could interact with her half-woken self. I could wake her fully, have her hanging on my every word like the most damaged, most pathetic drug addict would for even a scrap of their drug of choice. I knew how to do it. It was easy. She was putty in my hands, waiting to be shaped. I could be kind, I could be cruel. Have her begging on her knees for the chance to atone for every crime she'd implicitly supported in the Empire's name.

I trace downwards, following the curve of her hips to almost touching her vulva before stopping - as if this last, final area was somehow defensible as a line that I wasn't willing to cross. Ridiculous, of course. I'd already violated her far more thoroughly than anyone could ever, ever do with simple touch alone. Still. I stop.

Because no matter what I did here... it wouldn't be enough. I would need more. And if I was going to need more, then I was going to need to do this again. With her. Because she wasn't Vicky. She was... better. Not better than Vicky, obviously, but a better target for my urges.

And having this... victim, because there was no other word for what I had done to her, had helped. Scion above, it had helped a lot. I had needed this. I could never have imagined that someone that wasn't Vicky would even make so much as a dent in my issues, but I felt better. The itching to do something with my power was back down to something more like a dull hunger, rather than the starved animal ready to lash out whenever it perceived a moment of weakness. If I touched Vicky right now, I could probably just enjoy her touch and not even worry that I was going to do something terrible to her.

No more terrible than my usual pick-me-up, that is.

This was a feeling I needed more of. Because I'd be back to my normal, dangerous self before long. But if I had her. If I had this girl... I could do this again. Go further, even. Cross new lines. New boundaries. She'd never, ever agree if she had even the slightest understanding of my nature... but she didn't need to. I could make her agree.

No. 'Make' was too harsh a word. Mould, perhaps. Encourage. Train.

I pull my fingers away, and her body arches up to try and keep contact in an unconscious protest. I lean down, and kiss her again. She wasn't Vicky. It was true. But she represented hope to me now. "Thank you, and-" I brush her hair aside, considering her peaceful expression as she shifts under my touch. "-I'm sorry. But I can't let go of this chance." The words, a confession only to myself, tasted like ash. Villain or not, I knew what I was doing here. "I need you around me. I need you to give yourself to me. To obey me. To trust me. To love me."

I force her to climax again, a weak noise emerging from her throat as she helplessly cums solely through the steady torturous pressure of my power. I follow the flush across her body. Not Vicky. Still. But... a girl. An attractive one. Had I- had I just never considered this as an outlet? Was I just stupid? All the times Vicky had jokingly suggested that I get laid to cheer up... was she right all along? I'd never believed that any other girl would compare, but now that had been convincingly disproved. If only it didn't take me turning a villain into my personal sex toy to find that out. I could have... I don't know. Tried flirting with the right kind of people at school? No, that wasn't me. I'd never manage something like that. But I wouldn't have had to resort to this. Because this felt right. This was doing something for me.

And if it felt this good on little more than a sex doll. An unwitting, barely interactive partner... then how good would it feel when she was awake? Lost in the throes of lust and ecstasy? Yearning for my body with the love and potency of a newlywed couple on their honeymoon?

"Your body will yearn for me, and you will never understand why." I tell my canvas. I wouldn't go easy on her. Not like I had with Vicky. Actual withdrawal symptoms would be problematic, but I wasn't some sketchy wet-Tinker selling cheap hormones on the black market. I was Panacea. I could do things with biology that most people couldn't even dream of. "When you're with me, when you obey me, when you please me-" Taylor's lips part, her body calling out for her to scream her pleasure to the world - but her vocal cords weren't working right now. I needed privacy. "-you will know bliss. When we are apart, when you deny me, when you displease me-" The climax stops, cold and immediate. Like a car that had just been Clockblocked. Instant, and absolute - with no wind down in between. Taylor's reaction is immediate, an almost pained, confused whine as she presses her body against my fingers once more - trying to restart the feelings I had been generating. "-then I will deny you in turn."

I take pity, and send her back into the throes of oversexed contentment.

"But I will make you happy." I assure her, as much as myself. "Once I know that you won't run, or try to leave me. I'll get you away from the Nazis, and we can... make it work. I'll make you the happiest girl in the world. I can do that, you know. I've tried it before. That kind of, intense, fairy-tale like love. It's just the brain at work. Once you work out which parts you need to target in response to the right person..." I drift off. I'm just talking to myself, I know. She couldn't understand me properly right now, and not a shred of this experience was going to become a memory. "Not important. But I'll do it. Because I'll owe you. Even if you're a Nazi. You've saved me, at great cost to yourself - even if you didn't mean it." As long as I can make it stick, that is. All of these fancy words meant nothing, nothing at all if I couldn't bind her to me.

But that wouldn't be much trouble. I was the doctor, after all. And if I said that I had concerns about long-term injuries and wanted to check up on her every now and then? Then that was what was going to happen. I could make her head flare up in phantom pain with no apparent cause after a certain amount of time if she failed to show, not that I wanted to resort to something so pointlessly cruel when I could just ask nicely. Politely. She seemed like a nice girl. Reasonable. Aside from the Nazi part.

Right. Let's see what she says. If she didn't give the right response, I could bring her back to this dream-like state - trial out the conversation a few more times, seeing what the best outcome would be before finally allowing the memory to settle.

I pull away.

That was enough fun. For today.

I felt... good. Happy. Relieved. Sated. I could face Vicky now, I think. Even if she went shopping for swimsuits again, I could keep myself limited to merely a perpetual state of thirst over her body rather than drowning in thoughts about how easily I could convert her into my personal sex toy.

My hands slide forward again, both pressing against her bare stomach. Not to tease her. Not to twist her body. Not to showcase my control, or trial out yet another of my fantasies.

My forehead meets my hands, as if in some mockery of devout prayer. "Thank you." I say wetly. Was I crying? God, I was terrible. I'm the literal rapist here, and I'm the one crying about it? But, disgust at myself aside - that didn't change the need for gratitude. Even if she was in no state to understand it. Even if she would never remember it. "This-this changes everything for me. I will- I will make this up to you. Somehow. Thank you. Thank you-" My power thrums through her body. The sweat, the juices she'd let out - it was all biological, strictly speaking. I could clean it up without much issue - erasing any clear sign of what we were doing here. The bed was a little messed up, but not badly enough to attract attention given that she was occupying it before I arrived. Beds got sweaty, no big deal. A hint of acne on her face is wiped away without a trace left behind, the smallest token of gratitude that I could offer in exchange for everything I'd done. "-now please, get changed again. Your examination is over." I start releasing my grip over her body and mind as I say it.

"-'ank 'ou nurse." The exhausted, happy voice of the girl stirs from the body underneath me. She slowly, clumsily works her way through the logistics of getting her clothes back on - a task she sharply improves at once I start to ease her out of her dreaming state. Crisper movements, a hint of sharpness in her eyes. Not enough to understand why this situation might be problematic. My vice-grip over some of her brain functions was without flaw. There was an order to doing this safely. For both of our safety, that is. Her current state was little different than an alcoholic after a bad night out. Somehow stumbling back home, unlocking the door and getting to bed without remembering a step of the process in the morning. You needed hormones to get angry. You needed a certain section of your brain to consider a situation to get suspicious. You needed certain inputs and a response to understand fear. I didn't allow any of it, only starting to release the holds and restrictions I had placed as she finally settled into something resembling the position she'd been in at the start of all of this.

Did I miss anything? Not that I could see. Nothing seemed out of place. I pull the last of my power away, checking her brain and hormone balance was back to normal as she stirs - ready to finish the 'conversation' where I had left off. No surge in anger. No bubbling sense of confusion. Just a moment of inattention followed by an intense focus on me, and- I blink. I'd almost have guessed that emotion was anticipation mixed with lust, I'd seen it in patients enough - but that wouldn't make much sense in this case. Perhaps messing with her hormones had sent her thoughts down an odd path that had lingered even after waking from her 'dream'.

"I don't see anything wrong." I try to keep my voice level. I couldn't leave a single sign that anything was wrong. As far as she knew, I'd touched her for all of about two seconds before this point. Enough for my power to scan her, and no more. All the rest? Gone. Memories were formed in a pretty clear process, and I'd stopped that process in its tracks all throughout my 'playtime'. She didn't know what I'd subjected her to. She had no idea that I fully intended to do it again. She didn't have a single inkling that I intended to make her physically, emotionally and mentally dependent on me - forging the most fraudulent and forbidden of doctor-patient relationships in order to lure her away from the Empire and into my arms instead. "I think that will be all from me."

I blink again at the way her brain lights up at my words. I would call that... disappointment? Embarrassment as well. Humiliation, maybe. Nothing showed on her face except a tint of redness that would easily have been explained away in other circumstances. I couldn't pry. Anything that was going through her head right now was completely my fault. I'd done my best to set her body chemistry back the way it had been... but I must have missed something because her reactions were all over the place for no apparent reason.

"If I may-" I interject before she can speak. "-head injuries can manifest symptoms days and even weeks after treatment. While I can't see anything explicitly wrong now, I'd like to be sure-" What was with that rush of relief? Maybe I'd gone a little too far with the hormones and endorphins. Her emotions were all over the place for no apparent reason. "-so would it be possible to arrange a meetup in the future? Just something casual is fine, I'm not a proper doctor here after all. I don't charge either-" I brace myself for a rejection. I could create an injury or problem that would force the issue, something that any hospital would struggle enough with to refer the case to me at the next place I visited. I could repeat the conversation again with some different wording, if it seemed like I was close to getting acceptance. I could-

"That would be perfect." She clasps my hand tightly before I can fully let go. The signs of embarrassment are still there, but there's an indecipherable mess of other emotions coming to the fore now. Flowing together in ways too complicated for a cursory inspection to decipher. "I'll give you my contact details. And-" She swallows nervously. "-it doesn't even have to be a medical thing. You seem like- I mean. I don't have many friends, so maybe we could- you know? Be friends?" Her voice shrinks with every word.

I nod shakily. She could also just say 'yes'. For some reason, I'd been overthinking it. Plotting to do even more terrible things to a girl that was really too kind and sweet for her own good. Apart from the Nazi thing.

Just then, she had been about to say that it seemed like I didn't have many friends, hadn't she? Not wrong. And this was- this was perfect. It couldn't be better, even. I didn't have to worry about keeping up the fiction of worrying over a fictional injury if she was willing to just treat me as a friend. And if I was already a friend, I could build on that to become something more.

Perfect. "That sounds like a great idea." I inject all the enthusiasm I can muster into the statement. Pretend that I'm Vicky. A social butterfly, totally cool about the idea of hanging around with people and definitely not introverted at all. "I'd love to come around and talk about-" What do people talk about with friends? The Wards tried to include me sometimes, but I wasn't really that type of person - and Vicky's friends were... bold. Outspoken. I tended to run away when she tried to drag me around. "-stuff!"

"Stuff, yeah. That sounds great." Taylor can't act, I know that now at least. She seems at least as lost in this kind of talk as me, which oddly made me feel a lot better about my fumbling around.

I grin weakly at my innocent, unaware victim. The future target of every one of my bad impulses. A probable villain that still didn't deserve a fraction of what I was planning to do to her. A sacrificial lamb to keep my own bad nature away from Vicky.

She had absolutely no idea what she was in for.

--

Taylor

I think I was getting back somewhere close to normal now.

Normal for me, that is. Or, my new normal - maybe. I don't think I'd ever be quite as normal as the Taylor of- I pause. How long had it been now? No more than a day or two, surely? I check the markings on the shredded calendar to my left, mostly gone now - I needed the paper. Four days. Four days was a lot. Whatever. Not as normal as the Taylor of just over four days ago. That was a very normal Taylor. Unlike the Taylor of today. Who was a bit manic, maybe. Sleep-deprived, possibly. Superpowered, definitely.

This Taylor, which is to say, I, - had spent the last four days dismantling three different computers, ripped apart around fifty colouring books, five security cameras and a not-insignificant amount of materials typically reserved for small children. For a good reason! A good cause! The reason being that this Taylor, was actually a superhero! A superhero that built things. Like Armsmaster. Or Hero. Hero, coincidentally, not only being the name of my new idol but also the name of my future job title. Taylor, Hero!

In the making. Hero-in-the-making. Work in progress. Actually, the hero part had nothing to do with my current project so it wasn't even really in progress yet. There was a reason for that. I had encountered difficulties. Typically, the first thing people would do with powers is to go out and stop some crime. But when you trigger as a- what's the word? Builder. Tinker! - when you trigger as a Tinker, you start to get ideas. Plans. And I had really, really wanted to get started on those plans right away. A brief search on the internet during a moment of lucidity had informed me that this was normal. A Tinker fugue. It would go away if I just kept building things, which coincidentally was exactly what I was planning on doing anyway. Convenient!

Back to the issue. Just the one issue, but a rather big one when it came to my dreams of becoming a hero. Instead of building cool weapons, power armour and a moon base - I wanted to make funny spirals. Sometimes moving ones, even. A few of my latest and greatest had sound and video, rather than the physical versions I'd started out with. I'd even rigged together an audio-recording program complete with headphones that only slightly sparked when I tried putting the volume up to more than a whisper.

But the spirals! They weren't just spirals, of course. These were special spirals. Hypnosis materials. Designed to bring someone under my control, implant suggestions and triggers to ensure that they would be my loyal slave forever.

That wasn't- that wasn't very heroic. I knew that. I was working on it. I'd been planning out how to break the news about my... circumstances to the PRT, knowing that this wasn't exactly a PR friendly power. But I could use it responsibly! I could reform villains, or something. People would be happy so long as I was supervised and not using it on the wrong people. I wouldn't mind that! I could be pragmatic when the situation called for it! Once I was done with my first teeny-little detour - I was going to be the best prison therapist ever. Or something like that.

The only issue was that, while I was planning out how to phrase the fact that I was a mind-controlling Tinker without being arrested, a few of the hospital staff came by to try and kick me out of the room. I had my hypno-lolly by then, the rather aptly named spiral-on-a-stick that was quite effective at getting people in a trance quickly while I scrounged together a more useful spiral or program for the situation. A spiral encoded with something like 'Oh god, please forget about all of this. Don't come back. I'm super fine and don't need bothering. Also, please send food but don't open the door ever.' Quick, to-the-point messages like that. That had sent them packing.

Then more people had arrived, trying to work out where all the missing cameras had gone. And the computers. I'd sent them packing too, making sure that everyone knew that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation why all those random devices had been damaged beyond repair. And I'd sent out requests to send more food with them. Fast food, specifically. Hospital food was terrible.

It wasn't that I didn't understand their perspective. I was freeloading. And stealing. That was wrong. I knew that. But I was building things. I could hardly pick up and move it halfway across the city before it was finished, could I? Dad had tried to pick me up, and I'd sent him running as well - with the assurance that I was very safe and happy and not to be bothered thank you. I hit the receptionist with that one too. Then played it over the intercom for anyone who missed the message. Taylor Hebert, room 23B, not to be bothered she's doing fine.

That had worked. I'd spent a lot of my spirals up to that point to manage all of that. That was part of the issue, the low quality of materials... everything seemed to just fall apart after a single good use. Aside from my hypno-lolly. That was built to last. I was proud of that. Not so proud of the name, but I'd been in a rush. But everything else? I used it and... it was just a spiral. Not a special spiral, but just a series of wavy lines or a trippy kind of audio file. The magic was gone. The words I'd encoded inside it, the power to prepare the target for a suggestion or implant the idea inside... gone. Some lasted longer than others, but most were on a timer from the moment they were first set off.

I'd filled the bins with my discarded weapons. Twice. Then I had to find someone to empty it, and not ask questions. More spirals. It had slowed everything down. I could have been done days ago if I hadn't had all of these annoying distractions getting in the way. I didn't want to use these, temporary, weak materials with no real sticking power and limited complexity. My power didn't want that. Nothing scratched the itch that might end this fugue state that I'd ended up in. I wanted to build something awesome. Something effective. Something that wasn't just a tool for hiding in a hospital room and ordering around oblivious, overworked janitors. Something that a real hero would sit up and take note of, marvelling at its potential applications.

Hence, my masterpiece: The as-yet-unnamed series of programs and spirals that I fully intended to fire at my former best friend, that would get her to sit down and explain exactly what the fuck had gone wrong with her over the last few years. And also put her in a much deeper state than any of my other 'victims' so far when it came to suggestibility, ready for me to hit her with some advanced programs. No, no. I wasn't going for a one-and-done 'don't think about that room' command. I wanted Emma back. And that meant changing her. And that meant the big guns. Or the big spirals, in this case. The ones that took me hours to design and complete, not the ones made in five minutes out of a child's educational book on the alphabet.

Changing her back to being my friend was complex. There were feelings involved. I wanted it to be natural. Just what we had before. Sure, if I could ambush her, I could easily demand that she go to the movies with me - but she still wouldn't be my friend. At best, a puppet blankly watching the screen until the end. At worst, she'd invite the rest of the Trio and spend the entire time bullying me for fun. I needed time and materials to make meaningful, long-lasting changes. I needed precise wording to be encoded into the messages weaved into the subtle harmonics of the audio. The right ideas for me to whisper while she was in the depths of her trance. Subtle sentences in the hidden gaps between the black and white lines that seemed to melt into each other when the eye drew too close. It was hard. And time-consuming. Which was why I hadn't quite gotten around to that part yet. Diagnosis program, done. Best-friend-maker, not done.

In my defence, there was a world of difference between ordering someone to mindlessly skip your door when doing their rounds or to grab a pizza and leave it at a certain spot, and convincing someone to dredge up their deepest, darkest moments over the last few years complete with all of their fears, aspirations and the easiest way for me to get into their good graces. There was a... tax, of sorts. On how mentally-draining something was. You couldn't do too much thinking at once, or it all fell apart. It made sense, I guess. The whole hypnosis cliche was built around getting them to not think, and fall into a state where someone else does that kind of thinking for them and they just... internalise it. The mind gets tired if I ask too much of it. I could have someone lifting blocks all day with subpar materials, but persuading someone that they wanted to lift blocks all day for me would need a lot of work. Hell, even interrogating someone to find out when the last time they lifted blocks all day was. That was thinking, and therefore, I'd burned through a little bit more of my potential mental-budget for something really minor.

Which made it all the more important that my commands for Emma were perfect.

I snap my head around at the door as I hear voices coming. "-no reason to bother her." Gary's voice. More murmuring.

"-be the judge of that." A woman. A girl, maybe?

"-really any need-" Looks like Gary had it in hand. He was the closest thing there was to a boss around here, so even if I hadn't handled the girl in person - he should be able to clear her off for me. I return to tweaking my audio file.

That was a mistake.

Twenty seconds later, the door slams open.

That was a problem. Not only because my visitor was immediately recognisable as Panacea. Not only because I was immediately recognisable as a Tinker. Not only because I wasn't ready for a confrontation if anyone came running after Panacea.

No, that all came secondary to my primary concern.

Four days of work. Thousands of dollars of (stolen) materials. My masterpiece. My magnum opus-

-had been left facing the door. The very same door that Panacea had just walked through.

I race up from my seated position, my arm raised in a futile plea. "Wait! Don't look-!" I slump as Panacea's lips slightly part, a vacant expression entering her eyes as she drinks in the sight of something that was supposed to be purely for the benefit of my ex-best-friend. A single-use tool, accidentally activated by mere coincidence and a failure to knock. At least Gary hadn't followed. I'd hate to chase him with my hypno-lolly again. He was portly, but he knew the hospital like the back of his hand. He'd almost managed to call the PRT last time. And I was running out of spirals that could make people forget pesky little details like the fact that they saw someone being mind-controlled upstairs. But Gary not being here was a small mercy. A silver lining to a dark cloud. The dark cloud, of course, being the fact that I'd just lost the only thing I'd been working towards ever since I woke up here.

Wasted. Because what was the value in dredging up the worries and fears of one of the darling children of the most beloved superhero team in the Bay? I should just break the trance early and send her home. There was no recovering it now-

"I don't deserve to live." Panacea mumbles.

I turn, slowly.

"I'm an irredeemable monster, the world would be a better place if I died. If my family even knew half of what was going on in my head, they'd be the ones to prove it." Panacea continues in a steady voice.

Oh. Well now.

It wasn't like I hadn't been planning on using my powers for therapy anyway. I'd assumed that supervillains and Emma would be the neediest on that front, but when presented with an opening line like that - how could I interpret that as anything other than a desperate plea for help? A plea that only I could truly answer? Other heroes couldn't handle something like this. My power was built for therapy. Suggestion. Slavery. Not that I needed that last part on this occasion. That was a backup plan in case things really didn't work out with Emma. Or if the PRT called me a villain. Or I ran into problems with the gangs. Or I was really struggling to find enough computers to rip apart- well. It was a last resort. I was trying to keep things above board, that was all. Helpful brainwashing and mind-control. Like a hero should.

Gently, I ease Panacea into a nearby seat - keeping her gaze focused on the image in front of her. This one didn't actually move. Optical illusion, but a very satisfying one. "Keep looking at the centre, Panacea." I didn't have the kind of materials to hand that I really needed to solve, or even attempt to solve, whatever her issues were. Basic suggestions, yes - but this state was always supposed to be more about gathering facts. A diagnosis, to prepare for a deeper trance to actually resolve everything at a later date.

In hindsight, I don't know how I was ever planning to finish everything I needed to 'fix' Emma in a reasonable timeframe from this room. I'd just started on the idea of a single fix and having my friend back, and hadn't really considered that it was probably easier to take several small steps rather than one giant leap. Maybe it was a good thing that I'd been interrupted. But... my thoughts were getting clear now. It wasn't the time to build anymore. It was time to do. I hadn't built everything that I wanted for this kind of scenario, but I would have to make it work.

I close the door behind her. "Why don't you tell me more about why you feel that way-" I sing-song my words across to the healer, scrambling through my pile of discarded tools. Maybe I couldn't fix her today, but I still needed safety. Security. And that meant digging out enough suggestion tools to convince her that this was most definitely not a Tinker's lair and that I was very much not hypnotizing anyone here. And make her forget about the hypnosis. That was a key one as well. Added a lot to the workflow, having to add on the fact that I was never here and was also definitely not waving spirals around the place like a madwoman.

As it turns out, Panacea has a lot to talk about. A lot of issues to unpack, not just about her power or her inner thoughts, but about her family, school and Cape life as well. In fact, it was hard to find something about her life where Amy had anything positive to say - at least, if I took her sister out of the equation.

More than I was expecting. A lot more. I'd expected some issues with self-worth, maybe a guilt-complex over the people she wasn't saving when she was at the Arcade or something. The incest fantasies had been a surprise. The temptations over the true potential of her power had been another. Issues at home hadn't been on my bingo card either. Idle fantasies of rendering a Ward impotent or outright dead also raised an eyebrow.

But... was it really all that bad? Yes, there might be something a little wrong with giving her sister the warm-and-fuzzies when they were close, but from the way it was described, the exact same was happening in reverse thanks to Glory Girl's aura. Everything else... was purely in her own head. And yes, she was scared of those thoughts. Worried about the possibility that she might act on them. A bit of panic over her sexuality. Worry about her parents reactions. About her sister's reaction.

But I was pretty sure that thought crimes weren't illegal yet. Amy Dallon was certainly still a good person. Even if she didn't believe it yet.

I could help with that. I could build up her self-confidence. Her self-image. Her trust in her own moral judgements. As for her fantasies about her sister, I had a few ideas - but maybe I was getting ahead of myself.

Because actually, how much of that could I really do now? The tools I had to hand weren't the best. A few hastily-made patterns formed from crayons and paper - they were only good for inducing obliviousness. Ignorance. Weak suggestions, at best. My videos and audio files were better, but until I could work out why I couldn't re-use them on this crappy, hacked-together machine they just took too long for me to put together. Panacea would have reached the end of her current trance by the time I could make even a basic one on my own.

No. I couldn't use most of this to do much now. I could implant ideas, lure the right thoughts to the front of her mind - but anything concrete and reliable was beyond me right now. Not enough spirals. Most of them would be needed to protect myself before the current program wore off, with the ones that were left... I'd need to prioritise what I needed to do to put the right suggestions in her head. Friendship. A little bit less self-loathing. Organising future meetings where the two of us could do this again. The possibility of her ravishing my body, pinning me down and punishing me for being such a terrible, terrible girl and taking over this hospital for the best part of the week. Wholesome things like that.

"Amy?" I wait for the distant hum of acknowledgement. Her eyes don't leave the screen. "Can you look at this spiral over here for me?"

It was more of a glorified windmill-on-a-stick, really. A crude imitation of the hypnotic swirl on the main TV screen that threatened to put me under. But it works. If I spin it on my own by hand. Clunky, yes. Functional, also yes. "These spirals are harmless." I tell her gently. "They're just decorations. You don't need to worry about them." My most common tool. These were all over the hospital at this point.

"Yes." Amy agrees easily. "They're just pretty to look at. They won't do me any harm."

"Good girl." I tell her, a slight smile appearing on her face at the words. "Now look at this spiral." I bring out the second. "These tools I have scattered around this room, they're not really worth your attention. They're beneath your notice. Unimportant to someone with a schedule as busy as you."

"I'm very busy." Amy agrees, with a bit of hesitation.

I pause. That didn't stick, I think. "What do you think about these gadgets on my bed, Amy?"

She turns to look at the half-broken headphones and the mess of cables leading into a broken phone. "It's, it's a bit unusual. I don't care that much, but it almost looks like-"

"No." I chide. "You don't think anything about them. There's nothing interesting about any of the tools scattered around this room. I don't have anything interesting in here. You don't see a reason to be interested in a messy patient's room. You know that I'm not going to hurt you, so everything in here has to be safe - which means you don't need to worry about what they might be for. You're only here to deal with the patient, you don't want to waste time worrying about things that aren't important."

"No." This time, she agrees without delay - head turning back to stare at the screen again. "I don't care about your toys." Toys? Is that how she saw it now? I shouldn't complain, but... fine.

"What do you think about this thing that I have in my hand, Amy?" I try for the third time, holding up my hypno-lolly. At an angle. Best not to overlap the effects. "Do you have any concerns about what it might be? Or what it does?

"I don't really want to worry about it." She tells me. "It's safe, and not really part of the reason I came to this room. I'd rather just ignore it. I'm only here to help the patient anyway."

"Good girl. Now, look back at the main screen." I couldn't hide the pleased hum in my voice. When was the last time I felt this... in control? Of myself? Of my life? Of someone else? One-off commands didn't give this kind of thrill. The feeling of having this girl, this superhero, as my thrall - even just for the moment - I couldn't deny that it felt good.

I swallow nervously. It would be too easy to become a villain with this power. A proper one, I mean. For all that I had already technically committed a laundry list of crimes and coverups over the last few days, I wasn't really a supervillain. But I could be. And my idea of 'therapy' was probably already dancing over that line. It was wrong. But it would help. I was fucking with the mind of a heroine. I was going to be dictating her idea of right and wrong. I'd be forging the most fraudulent of relationships between us, all the better to get her alone and further under my control. There was a lot of responsibility in all of that. A lot of power. And I was suddenly finding that I didn't know if I should be trusted with it.

Was I really doubting myself now? I could help, so I should help. And try to ignore the impulse telling me that this would be a lot simpler if she simply never, ever left the trance. I was capable of it. A proper headset and a connection to a computer, and I could work something out to ensure that she was constantly being given new inputs and commands to ingest. A subtle hypnotic message in the background of her mind, keeping her ready and pliant even as she stumbled through her everyday life. Nobody would need to know that she was my pet.

My hand traces the oblivious, pliant girl's face. Down her chin. Along her neck. The entire time, there's no reaction. Not a single objection or complaint. She actually leans into my touch. Happy to see me. Happy for me to touch her. Happy to touch me. And not just in this innocent, oblivious way - in this state, she was mine.

I could have this all of the time.

Stop it, Taylor. The resources I would need to do that... not to mention how obvious it would be. I'd get caught immediately. I'd need to shrink it down. Glasses, maybe. Some subtle earphones. I catch the thought. The feasibility shouldn't be the issue for me! It was morally wrong, that was what I should be saying - but that argument didn't quite have the mental weight that a simple lack of ability did. That didn't make me feel bad, although it probably should. For all that Amy was the one beating herself up over how easy it would be to abuse her power, with only her morals stopping her from taking the leap - faced with the growing realisation that I definitely had a fetish for this now, I was realising that my situation was the opposite. My morals weren't helping here. The fact that I just couldn't pull it off was the only thing stopping me.

If it was purely up to me, I wasn't sure I would ever want to let her out of the trance. She'd wake up, and we wouldn't be this close anymore. She wouldn't want anything to do with me, she'd go right back to fantasising about her sister. And who could blame her, really? Glory Girl was... something. But just because I understood, didn't mean I wasn't bitter about it. It was familiar. If it was Emma in the same situation, she'd go crawling back to Sophia the second the trance lifted. That was why I wanted to make such a drastic change all at once. I don't know if was ready to accept having Emma back, and then having her leave again while I plotted a second round of changes.

But at least in this case, I didn't have any former feelings messing up my thoughts on the matter. Panacea was already thirsting over Glory Girl, I didn't mind if she went back to doing that. Hell, I was thirsting over Glory Girl. No small amount of my dream scenarios for resolving Panacea's apparent issues involved ensuring that Glory Girl kicked her boyfriend to the curb and proceeded to enjoy a blissfully happy life with Panacea. And me. Because if I was involved as well, it wasn't really incest. I think. And I also wanted to be the meat in a Dallon sandwich and have the pair of heroes thoroughly educate me on exactly what I deserved for delving into their heads without permission. Even if it was for a good cause. That too.

That was wishful thinking. I'd probably never get my hands on Glory Girl. Nor should I. Her relationship was none of my business, regardless of how stormy PHO claimed it was. If I took myself out of my fantasies, I had a solution that would benefit both Panacea and myself. Selfless, and selfish. I'd solve her self-hatred over her infatuation with her sister, give her someone else to focus on and stop holding herself back:

I could direct her attention towards me instead of her sister.

Mind-controlling myself a girlfriend wasn't really my intention, however appealing the idea sounded, but if the bulk of her stress was caused by not having a suitable person to explore her own sexuality with - I wasn't unwilling to be that person. For a cute girl. And a hero, at that.

I definitely wasn't saying that purely for my own benefit, though I'll admit that there was a good reason I was jumping to this conclusion so easily. She needed this! By taking her sister out of the equation, half of her 'twisted fantasies' became a standard fetish that was - if a little racy for me - perfectly normal in the grand scheme of things. She'd realise that herself too. The biggest issue, and the biggest cause of guilt, was her sister. Not the ideas themselves. People had a few weird thoughts all the time, I wasn't bothered by that. On the contrary, if anyone deserved a partner that really understood her desires and was happy to let her indulge... it was definitely one of the most selfless Capes in the world. The world-renowned healer herself.

She'd be so much happier like that. I could warp her into my devoted little love-slave and have her pleading with me to keep going by the end of it. That would be fun. And hot. Ensuring that she understood the situation enough to both understand what I was doing, but also how much it was helping her - having her ask me to go further, dedicating herself to me completely of her own volition... I press my thighs together. I could even take her control over her power away, I was sure. Make it so that she needed to ask me permission for even the most basic of bruises. She'd love that as well. She might even be grateful for that right at this second, it would put her in a better place than me - at least. She wouldn't have to worry about her morals if she simply didn't have the ability even in a moment of weakness.

So many benefits for her. And I'd enjoy it as well, for obvious reasons.

All I had to do was slowly mind-control her into loving me.

I mentally review that last thought. Then the entire internal monologue.

Ah. I'm terrible.

The realisation stings a little. I'd been so convinced up to this point that I would, eventually, become a hero once I got these first few snags out of the way - but who was I even kidding? Even ignoring my... hasty decision-making when it came to taking over the hospital temporarily, my first thought and plans had been solely dedicated towards how I could hypnotise Emma and force her to submit to me. Looking at my reaction to Amy, I knew now that I would never have stopped at simply making Emma my 'friend' again. I'd have gone further the instant I realised that there was no one around to stop me from doing it again. I'd have collected the entire Trio, ensuring that they were all prepared to become my drooling, obedient slaves at the flick of a switch. I'd have flipped the power dynamic at school and left them, and the world, completely oblivious as to why they were the ones being degraded and humiliated every day - their only chance at salvation being to beg at my feet. Just like they would have wanted to do to me if given the chance, in fairness.

And if it had just been Emma, maybe I could have justified that. We might have been friends once, but I couldn't delude myself that she was a 'nice' person here and now. But here was Panacea. A genuine force for good in the Bay. She healed sick children with cancer. She saved lives. Constantly. Every week. For free. Even if there were a few wild thoughts going through her head, she was still Panacea. The very definition of a Cape that not even the villains would dare to go after, because there was evil and then there was evil.

And then there was me. Who looked at someone like that struggling, and saw opportunity. A ready excuse to take control. A perfect chance to exploit a vulnerable person. Knowing how she so readily described herself, I could only wonder what she might say of me if she had any idea of my true nature.

Maybe I'd ask her, once this was all said and done. Ideally, I'd manage to keep those well-tested morals perfectly intact throughout the process. She'd still be a righteous hero, but without the baggage she was carrying around right now. If I was arrested, which wasn't particularly unlikely, I wanted to be leaving Panacea in a better spot than I found her. If I couldn't be a good person, then I could at least do that much.

And I did want to help. My issues, my problems... they could just stay locked up in my head where they belonged. For Panacea, she'd think this all nothing more than a string of happy coincidences. She just happened to think that what she needed was some alone time with a girl that wasn't Victoria Dallon. She was merely lucky to encounter a fellow lesbian with no attachments to speak of. It was a fantastic coincidence to find out that her new 'friend' was very, very willing to help her explore her own sexuality and tastes. Pure happenstance when she started to catch genuine feelings. A pleasant self-discovery when she realised that she was finding happiness in ceding control to her new girlfriend. A perfect chain of lucky events that led her to find the perfect, loving mistress that understood her so perfectly. So many coincidences, it must have been fate.

And at no point in those steps did she need to worry about anything. At no point did she need to go through the same cycle of doubt and self-recrimination that I was going to be heading through. She was the innocent party here, experiencing a guilt-free, whirlwind romance and coming out the other end with a better mental state than she could have ever dreamed of.

When I put it like that, even I was starting to feel better about it. Panacea wasn't Emma, after all. I didn't have any budding resentment to burn off. Nor had she put me through months of humiliation that required me to return the favour.

"Right then." I fetch my speaker, loading up the file I needed. "Amy, you aren't going to remember any of this unless-"

"No, I'm not." Amy interrupts absently. "There's no reason to believe that I was hypnotised. I'm going to forget all of this once the trance ends, and I open my eyes again. I'm not going to worry about any missing time, I was probably just tired and took a quick nap without noticing. I'm not going to remember seeing anything unusual about this screen, or anything else that I was shown during this trance. There's no reason to think that Taylor was trying to hypnotise me. She's just a normal girl. Anything odd that I saw was probably my own imagination. If I think anything is wrong when I wake up, I'll let Taylor know and trust her to correct my misunderstandings."

I blink. "Did-did I do all of that?" I murmur. That was- that was amazing! I must have encoded it into the main program that she was staring at now, I must have just done it without thinking - or maybe during that blurry, half-remembered state that I'd spent the first day in.

And if all of those issues were solved, I could skip right to actually securing my prize. No, that wasn't right. Baiting the trap, so that I could get it next time. "Amy, your feelings for Victoria- Vicky. You know that you can't act on those, don't you?"

"I know." And even a voice stripped of emotion managed to sound devastated in two simple words.

"Because she doesn't see you in the same way. And because she's your sister." I continue. "A superhero. It would be wrong to act on that, and you wouldn't get away with it either." Without help, at least. But I wasn't that far gone yet. Dragging Glory Girl into a menage-a-trois wasn't happening any time soon, not unless Amy or I really changed our outlooks on the situation.

"Yes." Panacea agrees. "It's wrong. Evil."

"If you thought that way about Taylor, everything would be better." I probe. "You wouldn't need to stress out over controlling your thoughts and desires as much as you do now."

She considers it for a moment. "Maybe."

Good enough for a suggestion, but this couldn't remain a suggestion. I knew that was a bit too far, just wanted to see how effective the trance was at bridging a logical stretch like that without the intermediate steps. "Those thoughts wouldn't be as bad if they weren't about Vicky."

"True." She confirms.

"Those thoughts wouldn't be that bad if you knew that the person you were thinking about also liked girls - particularly if there was a chance that they might like you back." The double-sentence was necessary. Vicky might already like girls. Bisexuality was a thing, and she was flirty enough with every Cape her age on PHO that I couldn't rule it out. Panacea would know better than me, but I'd wasted enough of my time and allowance on questions.

"...yes." Panacea allows, accepting the rationale.

"If you wanted to have some harmless fun with someone, it would be best to find the right kind of person." Panacea nods, silent this time. "A quiet person would be best. Someone without many connections or friends. That way there wouldn't be any strange rumours going around that might bother Vicky." Another nod. Stronger. "Taylor seems normal. And she's not Vicky. She's been here alone for a while now, she must not have an active social life. She would be a great choice to experiment with. You could be friends, maybe more than that."

"Maybe more." Panacea echoes dumbly. Nod. Nod. Nod. She was going for it.

I hide a triumphant smile. "She doesn't seem like a very judgemental person. If you asked, she'd certainly be happy to experiment with you. She's the perfect outlet for you. You can trust her." Even if it wasn't for the 'greater good' I'd let her do anything to me anyway. That would have been better, probably. A cute girl lusting after me like that without the need to be mind-controlled first was too good to be true, but I could fantasise anyway. And oh would I fantasise. Panacea had been very, very explicit about what she wanted to do to Vicky's body while my program had left her confessing all of her inner thoughts to the room. If Panacea cared to do even a fraction of that to me, I was pretty sure I'd fall in love on the spot. "Before the session is over, you should ask her out - at the very least."

"I should-" She shrinks into the chair. Too much.

I change course. "It would be a disaster if you didn't find a solution for your problems soon. You might hurt Vicky."

"Terrible." Back to an easy agreement.

"It would be better to sate these impulses on a better target than Vicky." A grunt of agreement. "Taylor is the most ideal target you've found yet." Another grunt. "You should ask her out before the end of the session. Because you need to do something before you hurt Vicky."

"I'll- I'll ask-" She stumbles. Really? Even with a chain like that?

I compromise. "You'll ask for her contact details, and promise to meet up again. Before the end of the session."

"I will." She confirms.

"Taylor is the ideal target for these thoughts you've been struggling with." I backtrack after my success. Another nod. "Just meeting her again isn't enough to fix your problems. You actually need to act on your desires to start feeling better."

"I do." Her brow furrows.

"If you need to act on those desires quickly, and Taylor is the right person to act on them with - then you need to make a move on Taylor before the end of the session." I conclude.

"...yes." Amy seems to accept that logic.

I suppress a grin. Perfect. Wonderful. This was perfect. Too perfect. I'd been worried that it might be up to me to- to take the next step. But I couldn't do that, I was an introvert with no social skills worth noting. I couldn't ask anyone out. Not without the answer being completely and utterly controlled by me. This conversation now was fine, really - it was a bit like talking to myself. And I could keep up a conversation, if the other person could carry it for me - but... I couldn't do that. That was an Emma thing. That boldness. That daring. And now, it was going to have to be a Panacea thing. She was the hero, after all. Being brave was part of the package.

"Keep watching the spiral for me, Amy." I tell her warmly. Should I slot another one in? Use more of my disposable ones? No. Even with how good this program was, it wasn't supposed to work alone. It was just supposed to be a diagnosis, a light trance that induced suggestibility and let the mind roam freely. I'd probably already spent most of the mental focus that this program afforded me, better to wrap this up now. "Remember, you're going to forget this conversation - but you need to focus on the conclusions you drew here. When you start to talk with me again, and you start learning more about me - you're going to realise what a perfect candidate I am to help you out. And you're going to remember how urgent it is that you get that help, and you're definitely going to remember what it is you were going to do before the end of the session - won't you?"

"I will." Surety and conviction enter her voice. I straighten up. Definitely cutting it fine there. The program must have finished. I should set a timer on-screen somewhere the next time I made one as good as that.

Where was I- right. I was sitting in bed. I scramble towards it. "Amy, you're going to count to stand up now and count backwards from five. When you reach zero, you're going to leave this trance and go back to what you were doing when you walked in. Do you understand?"

"Five." She says, by way of confirmation. "Four. Three." I return to my approximate spot where I had been seated when she first arrived. Was I sat like this? Or like this? "Two. One." I knock a few of my gadgets aside to give me space and sit up straight, fist tightly clenched around my hypno-lolly. Just in case. "Zero."

A beat. Two beats. Amy blinks, losing the vapid, glassy look in her eyes and snapping away from the screen. "I-" She looks around the room, finding me. "Hello! Are you Taylor Hebert?" I smile back at the glassy, still unsteady look expression on her face.

No accusations. No followup. Straight back to how she was. "That's me." I confirm, feeling a knot of worry loosen in my chest.

The feeling grows as Panacea immediately settles into walking me through a series of forms that I was supposed to have completed already. I could practically feel her interest in me grow as I relay my circumstances, and I couldn't possibly have missed the sharpened focus in her frame once she heard my oh-so-innocent, matter-of-fact answer to the question of my sexuality.

I can practically see the gears churning in her mind as she reaches the end of the list of forms. She'd slipped some other, innocuous questions in there that clearly had no bearing on my stay here or the reasons behind it. Sizing me up.

And then she offered me her hand. One last thing before the end of the session. I was almost dripping with anticipation at this point. All of Amy's tightly-controlled desires, all of her fantasies - they all sprung from the first, singular point of skin-to-skin contact. One touch, and my body would be a slave to her whims until she got bored of me. She wouldn't need to worry about whether I liked it or not, she'd be able to tell at a single glance that I was ready and willing. Not that she couldn't just push me into that kind of state anyway with ease. And I was... a little nervous, maybe. But excited. It was odd, being the Master in the room and baiting someone else into ravishing me as if it was their own idea - but that was just the nature of the beast. Amy was the one that needed to be the actor here. And I was all too happy to be the stage.

Or, as I've mentioned previously, I am in complete support of any cute girl that would like to do literally anything sexual to my body. I was completely on-board with that. Anyone! Except for the Trio. And they weren't even excluded entirely, they just needed to beg for the privilege a bit first.

Not that I wanted to be mastered, as such. I know Amy had mused about the possibility, but her morals had lasted this long and I didn't see any reason for them to fail now. The only difference between Glory Girl and I, apart from the obvious - looks, class, fame, powers, chest size, family, personality, friends, fashion-sense, social skills and maybe a few other things as well - was that I was not the forbidden fruit. We weren't related. This was the 21st century. Girls could love other girls. Even if there were Nazis in the city that would like to say otherwise. With all of that in mind, the only boundaries that made sense for Amy to break were the more physical ones.

In other words. I was probably about to get my first kiss.

And possibly get ravished.

I'd need to express my enthusiastic support of those things when she gathered up her courage, a bit of positive reinforcement would never hurt - especially seeing as she seemed to be just as much of an introvert as me, superhero or not.

But then she starts to pull away, smiles at me and thanks me for my time.

What.

What?

Why? I was so, so sure that she'd try something. Anything. I couldn't be sure what, but something! The suggestion had stuck, I know it had! The connection between Vicky and I had been drawn, my suitability had definitely floated to the top of her head... and then she'd, what, decided better of it?

Stupid, stupid Taylor. Why did I even think she wouldn't double-take at the idea once she got a proper look at me? I'd seen myself in the mirror, was I really trying to compare myself to fucking Glory Girl? Obviously, if I tried to suggest myself, a... three out of ten on a good day, to the next best thing to a greek goddess that the Bay had - a perfect ten - that would obviously fall apart the moment she even started to think about it. Anyone could have seen that. Anyone apart from me, obviously. So arrogant in assuming that I'd actually achieved something, even if via such despicable, underhanded methods - only to fall flat on my face. Emma would be dying of laughter at how I'd unwittingly completely humiliated myself.

I try my best to keep a straight face as we split apart. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry or just pin the healer down and try to hypnotise her again to do it properly this time - but in the end, I weakly accept her offer to come and see me again at some point. At least something worked out of that session. I recover some tiny, smidgen of my pride in at least being slightly above the level of a worm, to the point where she agrees to become my friend. Out of pity, probably.

She takes my PHO username, and I let her leave.

Then I start to pack my things. I needed a change of scenery. And to never be reminded of this room and my first, horrific, humiliating failure as a Cape. Where I'd mind-controlled the horniest, thirstiest, most deviant girl I'd ever seen in my life to direct her ravenous lust towards me... and been completely ignored. As if she didn't even feel a thing for me.

I stomp outside to the hallway twenty-five minutes later. The trash was already set to be collected. The salvageable parts of my machine were packed in my bag, the rest was replaceable if I could find the right scrap.

"Miss, are you crying?" The first member of staff to spot me calls out in concern.

"Absolutely not." I deny. He looks ready to disagree. I wave my hypno-lolly at him. He agrees. "Give me enough money to take a bus home." Money is exchanged. I'd repay him one day. Maybe. If I ever forgave him for insinuating that I was the kind of person to cry over a... a flawed hypnosis. With substandard materials. Something had gone wrong, and I could just do it better next time.

I take a few more minutes to gather the tools I'd left around the building. The spiral-stickers that appeared when you looked at the elevator buttons or glanced at the light switch. A few lazy pieces stuck to walls. Removing the custom screensavers on the reception desk. Removing the audio file that automatically played over the intercom every half-an-hour. That last one had worked pretty well actually. As long as people weren't speaking too loudly at the same time it went off.

That should be everything. In a few days or even just hours, people would start to remember that my room was part of their duties. They might even vaguely remember that a girl was there, but think nothing more of it. It was time for me to go home and let the world move on. Every sign that I was ever here would disappear without a trace.

Nobody would ever be able to work it out.

--

Lisa

"Still no results, Tattletale?" I make a face at the annoyed voice of my employer. Calling me at stupid times of the day, again. Did he have nothing better to do?

No, he didn't. I already knew that.

"I wouldn't describe it like that." I dismiss his complaints. "Didn't I find you those two guys to play around with?"

"You did, and yet you failed to recruit them into your team. I'm beginning to have doubts about your potential in this role." It was an empty threat, we both knew it.

"Please. One of them was Heartbreaker's kid, he'd see right through me and definitely bring the wrong sort of attention to us further down the line." I click through PHO again. "And the other was disgustingly pure and naive. He'd never have been a good fit for a villainous team."

And they were both guys. I didn't say that. Maybe Coil had already worked out that I had a few 'unreasonable' criteria when it came to forming this team that he was so set on. But he could hardly complain, he'd lucked into a good deal with me. We both worked better in an uneasy partnership compared to if we had a hostile working relationship. I didn't go sneaking around behind his back to subvert his organisation, and he provided me funds and gave me the leeway I needed to be my kind of team leader. It would hardly be sensible for me to be walking around on the front line, would it? My power wasn't really good for combat, it was never going to be my role.

It was in the name. Team Leader. I should be in the background. Leading. Commanding. And that meant that I couldn't have people getting funny ideas about taking control, or disobeying me. That had slowed recruitment down. I'd been so close with Spitfire, had the girl practically simpering in the palm of my hand... and then Rachel had fucked it up.

But she wouldn't do that again. I scratch the top of Rachel's head. She was a good girl now. We'd clashed, briefly. But however dominant the girl might be in pure physical mass or combat, she understood power dynamics instinctively. I was where the money came from. The food. It was my house. My property. My team. Just as the dogs were hers. We each had our own things that we laid claim over, and the fact that she was included in my things wasn't something that she completely opposed by this point.

She hadn't completely accepted it either, but... I could learn some lessons from how she trained her dogs. A human would instantly recognise the cycle of conditioning I was putting her through as demeaning, condescending and humiliating. Dehumanising, maybe. For Rachel, it was a natural part of how the world worked. No sense complaining about it. Do something right, get rewarded. Do something wrong, get punished. If her rewards and punishments looked a little different to those she gave to her dogs, that was fine. Humans were different. That was how she thought of it.

Of course, there were limits to that. I couldn't push every boundary to its limit right away. It was taking a while to worm my way into her head, even with my deep understanding of her thought process. She was a bit of a minefield when it came to accidental triggers that led to violence. But I'd come a long way since our first meeting.

Hence why she was practically curled up by my chair now.

"And yet that was the entire point of leaving you to your own devices. If you fail to bring any results, why should I allow you to operate unsupervised?" My lip curls in annoyance.

"Stop stalling for your other timeline. Stop pretending to complain and get on with it." I had opinions on how wasteful he was with his timelines. How he should never, ever be splitting them mid-conversation like this because of the cost to his own versatility and safety... but fuck him. If he dies, he dies. I'd find a new way to make money. And loot his bank accounts while I was at it. I'd need to keep Rachel around, after all. I was getting attached to the perks of being a team leader, even if the team was just two people right now.

He sounds peeved, just like he always does when I call him out. "I've sent a file across to you."

I wait patiently for it to arrive. A chime emerges from the speakers. Click. I read. "Shadow Stalker failed a M/S screening?"

"Not completely. It just tripped a flag in the system. I've already had it cleared and raised the threshold for it to trigger again." He responds. "I wanted to look into it. If it was real, I wanted to see if there was an opportunity for recruitment - seeing as you've had so little luck yourself." I sneer at the phone. Ass.

"One data point shifting is not an uncommon occurrence. People can change." I frown. I was missing a piece. Did he have to play these games? He wasn't saying something, just to be obnoxious. Power plays were pointless when both people wanted the same thing. "So then it happened again." I conclude.

"Correct." The second file arrives moments later.  "Naturally, this one ended up at my desk too. I've suppressed it, ensured that this won't be triggering again until we've re-established a baseline. A standard procedure, as you say, people can change."

I review the file. Only minor deviations across the board. It had barely reached the threshold to even make a blip in the system, but comparing the past three results... it wasn't variance, but a trend. "But not in this case."

"Not in this case." He agrees. "Hypothetically, Sophia Hess would, if alerted about her potentially-mastered status, point the likely finger at one Taylor Hebert. A girl that, she admits, she's been bullying for most of the past year. With one recent notable incident in particular that I'm sure you will agree looks rather like a trigger event." Another email comes in.

Locker. Bullies. Complaints. Ambulance records. Stolen internal communications. "This is fantastic investigative work." I praise. "Whoever found this out for you must have been a genius without parallel. You must be truly blessed to have such hardworking and bright employees-"

"I think you'll find that the bulk of this comes from me, despite your own delusions about your own contribution." He dismisses me. Asshole. "You are far from my only agent. Remember that."

"Yeah, yeah." I murmur, going through the collection of typed-up notes that he'd appended. My work in the other timeline, no doubt. "...taken to Brockton General. It does seem to line up. I'd have to see her potential power in action. Do you have any data from inside for me to use? CCTV, medical records-"

"Not yet." I straighten. "But if you're ready, we can begin now."

This was the only reason I tolerated Coil. Brockton General, their security was probably terrible. No trouble for me. Particularly if one of Coil's guys had already done the legwork, as a helpful list of potential IP addresses, network diagrams and employee names lands in my inbox. "Fine. I'll do it. Split." The last word is a demand. "Which timeline is this?"

"I'll be keeping this one." He informs me. I'll need to stick to less-noisy methods then. Gather information while my other-self brute-forces her way in. I've barely started to wade into social media of the first employees on the list before the other-me has a breakthrough. "Their main website has an exposed web server. Default admin username, 'admin213?' for the password. No capitals."

I slide into the server without even a whisper. "They don't store patient records on here. Most of the CCTV footage will be stored offline, I'll need to find my way onto a workstation or a more central server." I spend some time looking around. "I've found a list of usernames, looks like a list of IT staff that use this device." I painstakingly relay it to Coil.

"You've been detected while trying to hit their firewall. I'm splitting again." I nod distractedly. "This is the fake timeline."

I immediately start working through my new list of usernames. Default passwords with slight modifications seemed to be a bad habit for at least one of the administrators around here.

"The user JDoherty is the engineer responsible for the firewall." I inform Coil to pass the fact to my other self, then I adjust my attack.

It takes twenty-five seconds to crack from there. No lockouts. Nothing. "The password is FirewallAdminAdmin! - three words, no spaces, capitals at the start of each. No substitutions." I wait for the timeline to end.

"Stop." I pause. A problem? My other self. The one that should be in the real timeline. "Something's happened to the other you."

"Details." I snap.

"Unable to focus on the task at hand. She keeps trying to end the call, insisting that I called her for nothing." He reports laconically.

There's no chance I would have given up normally so easily. A Master effect? A cognito-hazard? "Ask her about the hospital in general." I tell him.

A brief pause. "The usual drivel. She seems normal, but not as she was before."

Drivel? I'd remember that. "Ask about Taylor Hebert. What she knows about the girl."

The silence is longer this time. "I quote, 'Taylor Hebert isn't a Cape. There's nothing particularly exciting about her. She isn't a problem, so I'll go back to looking elsewhere for this new Master of yours.'"

"Sounds like a Master effect. Do you know what she was doing? Reading files on the server, I would have guessed." I'm itching to test it myself, but I'd already made a lot of noise that I couldn't fix. Sadly, this was probably the timeline we were going to have to keep - which meant that at some point, an admin would notice my activity and start actually fixing the gaping holes in their security.

"There's a service copying backup files of smaller services onto the same physical host as the web server." He quotes verbatim at me. Did he even understand a word of that? No, he didn't. I smirk.

"Split from me. We're on a timer in this timeline, but we can't work at all if I've been compromised in the other." There were definitely better ways to use Coil's power. Safer ones. But I'd never quite protest this usage of it, even if it hadn't gone perfectly this time.

Because it gave me the very best partner in the world. A bright, brilliant young mind that understood my goals and thoughts completely. Myself.

"I'll start from the top of the file list, the fake one from the bottom." I ignore his response. I didn't need his opinion. I was in charge here, and he knew it. For all that he might be employing me, he was just the facilitator here. I sharpen on a recently created file. "Never mind, I've found it. Split again."

"You are the real one." A beat. Two beats. Three. "The other Tattletale has been compromised again."

"Split. It's an audio file. Short, but this format and file name..." I set my power to work. "It's supposed to be played repeatedly. Over the speakers, maybe. She's a Master-Tinker of some kind. She didn't want anyone to bother her in her room, so she's set this to blast everyone inside the hospital - everyone who hears it gets a compulsion to leave her alone and feels like she isn't worth the trouble. That must be it."

I drum my fingers against the desk.

"But that doesn't explain how Shadow Stalker got compromised. The most feasible way for an audio Tinker to find and target her bully would be via a phone call - but she's unlikely to have the number she needs, or the resources to even make a working phone given how likely it is that she disassembled everything of value around her as soon as she woke up." There was something there... would she really have had the opportunity? I go back to Coil's initial data dump again.

I'm pulled away from my hunch by Coil again. "You've found a backdoor into a workstation. I'm sending you the details." Another email comes in. I snicker at the length of the credentials, imagining Coil painstakingly typing out over two-hundred unique characters just to communicate it from one timeline to the other.

"This one has CCTV." I almost cheer as I start reviewing it. "And would you like at that. There's our girl." The sight of the girl trying to subtly stay out of the camera's view as she stacks up chairs to reach the camera, only to suddenly yank it from the wall and cut the feed in the process was enough to put a smile on my face. I could only imagine how the security guards watching it must have felt. They'd have charged right after her immediately, not recognising the weapon in her hand as anything of note because it wasn't a threat.

I struggle with that for a moment. It was definitely a Tinkertech device of some sort, if not exactly a traditional one. She'd definitely made it, and was treating it like a weapon, but it wasn't a threat.

Not a threat to me. I correct. My power needed correcting sometimes when it got stuck on something. It was obvious, as I reviewed more footage. The spirals she was littering around the place needed replacing over time. They lost their potency, sometimes after a certain amount of time had passed and sometimes as soon as the first person fell victim to them. Looking at an old recording like this, I was perfectly safe to look at the harmless spirals.

"Go to yesterday. Four-fifteen in the afternoon." Coil orders.

I scowl at having my analysis distracted again. I was trying to work out what the harmless spirals were doing to the people that had fallen victim to them. Trying to decipher how her power worked, what its limitations were - and he wanted to stop that train of thought in its tracks? He knew that gave me a headache.

The annoyance fades when Panacea is dropped off at the building. Coil narrates what I'm seeing. "It's likely that Panacea was also compromised by the new Master during her stay in the hospital. You're following her route now in the other timeline."

I skip ahead. No point doing the same thing as my other self. Unholy glee takes its place as I watch her leave two hours later. I pause. I do a double-take. I set my power to full-throttle.

"Oh, now this is a treat." I can't help but laugh - only laughing harder when Taylor also emerges just a few minutes later. "Split from me. You'll love this. They both mastered each other."

"Panacea did?" Coil sounds confused at the idea. "How?"

"You know, I never really took a good look at her before-" But I could see it now. In glorious HD she was practically shouting out her guilt and shame to the world. Both of them, actually. "-but yes. It looks like Panacea has some naughty secrets of her own she's been keeping, and both of them have decided that they would really like to make an obedient little servant out of the other. That's just too funny."

"You can't have Panacea in your team." My other self must have already lunged at the potential that was there. "The heroes would never allow it."

"Yes, I can." I insist, power fully unleashed as I pulled up other clips of Panacea. How had I never seen this before? There it was, so obvious now that I was looking. "You have no idea, not a single clue, how much of a service I would be doing the Bay. If literally any Thinker worth their salt had the reading I have right now on that girl, the entire Protectorate would be on their knees begging for me to put a leash on her. A ticking time-bomb waiting to happen. I can't believe I never even suspected it before, wasting all of that time looking for the ideal teammates - and this perfect specimen was right there waiting to be snatched up."

"The heroes wouldn't allow it. Your group isn't supposed to attract that kind of attention." He insists.

"That doesn't matter." I half-snarl in response, Rachel starting from her position next to me. "The heroes wouldn't allow, what, exactly? We don't have to be an explicitly villainous group to achieve your aims. A neutral, or even heroic, group would do just as well. There's no law requiring that Panacea works as a hero in New Wave forever. People get sniped to different teams all the time. This would be no different." He doesn't immediately contest that. Maybe he was arguing with my other self. "And I notice you aren't objecting to bringing the Tinker on board."

"I would have been disappointed if you hadn't been open to the challenge." He comments.

"A challenge? Please. Both of them are going to be pushovers. They're a pair of neurotic messes that are just begging for someone to step in and take control of their lives. And they both know it." I snort. "They've literally fallen into my lap here. I'll be expecting that extra six grand in my regular paycheck."

"Six? I think you mean four, Tattletale. My compensation is quite enough for you and your team, I'm confident in that. I-" I smile. Too slow in talking to my other self, and now you know that I got the better of you again. Another win for the better Thinker.

"What about the third new member though?" I pose innocently.

"The timeline is wrong." Coil, or more precisely, the other me, breathes. "The first sign of Sophia's deviating score occurred shortly before the girl was admitted. Days before the likely trigger. It's clear that Taylor was doing nothing but attempting to salvage her own situation at that time, and she hasn't shown any ability to attack a target from range with her devices yet."

"Which means that there is a third Master out there. Someone somehow dodging all of the blame for her work on Shadow Stalker through blind luck. I'll be sure to start recruiting her as well, don't you worry." This day was just perfect. "All you need to worry your little head about, is making sure that our fumbling, mysterious Master doesn't cause a city-wide manhunt and accidentally capture all of our potential recruits. I don't know what the best way to... turn off all of those pesky alerts is, but I would suggest you invest a timeline or two into finding out."

He ignores my needling. "A five-person team. Are you truly capable of handling so many Masters in one place, Tattletale? Can you even manage to recruit them in the first place without finding yourself suborned, as you so effortlessly were just a few minutes ago?" I twitch at the reminder.

"I'm quite certain that they're all blissfully unaware of the existence of the others, and certainly none of them are smart enough to outwit me." I tell him confidently. "I think it will be trivial to bring them into their proper places in my new team." As the only one in the know, I could weaponise each of their powers against each other for my own benefit - even ignoring the minor miracles that a bit of social-fu could do for me. The potential for bribery and blackmail alone... not that it was needed. Both of those two would fold like wet paper to a few kind words and a hand in friendship.

"Then I'll leave you to your work. Don't disappoint me, Tattletale." He dismisses me, ending the call as abruptly as it had started.

I suppress a giggle. Four potential teammates. Hopefully, the other one was a girl as well, or she would have to be left out. But in the ideal scenario... four cute girls, fawning over me and my every whim. All with the power to turn the tables on me at any moment, but so content in their submission that they would never try it. Everyone as obedient as Rachel was.

No. More than that. As obedient as I wanted Rachel to be. Why, they might even be able to help me ease the girl over the line into complete servitude. Not just to the point now, where she obeyed my orders so long as they didn't involve her dogs and she didn't feel insulted or bothered by them. But to the point where I could just bury her face between my thighs like I'd wanted to ever since we first met. She'd object to that, I knew. Just like she used to object when I felt up her ass. One punch to the face was quite enough. Neither of us appreciated that experience. Me, tasting failure. Her, experiencing the true extent of what it meant to upset the person who owned you and everything you had.

I worked slower now. And she'd never gotten violent again.

It worked for both of us. But mostly for me, because I never actually stopped making my advances on her. Never stopped training her responses. Never stopped working towards making her my darling, obedient pet-human.

"Rachel." I smile, without showing my teeth. She didn't like baring teeth. That was for intimidation. The stick, rather than my preferred carrot. "I'm going to put our clothes into the washing machine. Take those off for me."

She grunts, not moving for a moment.

"Rachel~" There's a teasing note to my voice, but a hint of firmness underneath. "You remember the rules, don't you?"

"Fine. Whatever." A loose shirt lands at my feet. A bra. A skirt. Panties. It had been a lot of work to get her to start wearing cute things, but it had been worth it in the end.

I consider the now-nude girl with naked satisfaction. It was fun, watching her mind war between her old instincts of keeping herself covered up, and her power-given ones that told her that clothes were a mild inconvenience at the best of times - only useful for blending in with other humans so that they didn't raise a fuss. "Present." The girl straightens, hands clasped behind her back and leaving everything on display for me.

I lock eyes with her, noting the light flush racing across her face. She liked this, even if she couldn't put it into words. She was probably more frustrated at the inability to express that than I was. For all that I knew she was both interested and ready to jump me, she also wasn't ready for that on a more instinctual level. She'd lash out on instinct, then spend the next hour sulking with her dogs and dreaming of how she could get me to make the right kind of move on her.

One finger brushes up against her hardened nipples, each in turn. Rachel doesn't react. Not aside from the heavier breathing and the shifting of her legs against each other. "You're doing really well, Rachel." I croon. Anyone else, anyone, would look at her body language right now and think that the girl wanted me to take her here and now.

And they'd be right. But they'd also get punched in the face. And I wasn't repeating that experience. Rachel's mind was all messed-up, and only I could realistically decipher it. The end result that emerged when the desires of a horny girl, a socially-stunted human and the instincts of a canine crossed with each other wasn't something that could be navigated without a power to help pave the way. It wasn't as simple as seeing that she liked me and wanted to fuck. The instincts would get in the way, seeing someone weaker than her in the 'wrong' role. Or if we tried to go a step too far beyond the steadily-expanding limits of our master/servant relationship, not that I could ever call it that without her getting angry at misrepresenting our 'deal', I'd be faced with a very angry girl and her dogs accusing me of disrespecting her or overstepping my position.

"What do you want to do now?" I already knew the answer.

"Check on the dogs." As always. It was a partial lie. Because there was a certain other thing that she wanted to do as well, but even if she didn't fully understand her own mind when it came to romance - she knew that the dogs always needed training. And food. And petting. So she gave the simple answer. The one that was never in doubt. That didn't make her head hurt when she thought of how she actually wanted to go about doing that.

"Then I won't bother you. Because that's our deal, isn't it?" I say.

"I have the dogs. You have the team. And the house." She echoes our old agreement, not seeing anything particularly special in the fact that our agreement marked her and her property as 'mine'. That was something that a normal human would complain about. Rachel was an odd mix of pragmatism and obliviousness. She didn't mind being owned. Not really. As long as I didn't 'disrespect' her, it meant that she got food. Clothing. The odd pointer towards a dog-owner that was mistreating their puppies. In my mind, it was a massively lopsided deal. And in her mind, it was equally lopsided in her favour. Everybody wins.

"Do you want me to bring clothes down for you?" A genuine question. I'd set the girl up into skimpier and skimpier outfits around the house for fun, but on any occasion where I managed to find an easy excuse to undress her completely - she seemed to take to the idea of staying nude surprisingly well.

She makes a show of thinking. "Later." She decides. "The smell might confuse the new puppy. That would be annoying."

"So it would. Shower once you are done over there. I'm not cuddling someone who smells like wet dog." I remind her. She bobs her head.

She doesn't leave. I tilt my head at her. She tilts back. "Aren't you still working?" Rachel looks at my screen.

I shrug. "I'm just looking into some potential new recruits. A few more team members that might want to join." I shake my head before her objections can even start to surface. "And don't worry. These new people won't impact our deal in any way. They won't mess with your dogs, and I'll still be giving you and the dogs everything that you had before.  So don't scare these ones off, hm?"

She looks chastened. "Yes." An awkward shuffle of the feet. "Shouldn't I be here, while you work? Because we're a team?"

"We are." I allow. I let my power work. Ah. She was worried that she hadn't done anything. That she wasn't pulling her weight - especially after that last debacle with Spitfire. "But don't worry. This isn't really 'work'. It's just me doing something that might become work later. You don't need to stay and help this time."

"But I haven't done anything useful." She insists. "I don't want charity. Pity."

I step forward. "But you did help me. You were sat here, obedient and helpful while I was working just now. You know my power causes me a lot of stress, but with you being so helpful - I was really able to let loose."

She's doubtful. "I don't think I did all that much."

"Nonsense." I snort, completing my steady encroachment into her personal space.

I enclose my arms around her body. Lean, tight muscles. She could effortlessly crush me, even if she hadn't had her attack dogs a mere whistle away. The fact that she was shivering under my touch, a cocktail of indecision and uncertainty, was reason enough to assure myself that I was doing the right thing. For me. Just imagining Panacea, or this Taylor girl, in the same situation - paralysed with nervous confusion as I effortlessly twisted them around my finger, playing them off against each other like a puppetmaster on their stage? I definitely didn't need any masturbation material tonight - that was all I had to say on that.

"You feel less stressed when you see your dogs, don't you? When you see them happy, and well? When they follow your instructions better than you expected?" I whisper into her ear. "I'm not much of a dog-person, but I feel the same way about you. Just having you here, as a member of my team, is enough to make me feel better. I'm happy to have you here."

Her expression brightens at that. "I'm-" A light swallow. So cute and precious. Someone so strong, and so fragile at the same time. "-happy too. I like being with you." She hesitates, then stops. Unwilling, or unable, to voice the final admission.

So I kiss her instead. And she kisses me back. It wasn't the first time, but she lunged at the chance just as eagerly as if it was. I let my hands roam across her body as our tongues lock, and make a distinct point of not reacting as her hands tentatively, gingerly land on my ass - as if ready for me to snap back at her for overstepping. Honestly. For a girl that was so gruff and blunt most of the time, I would never have guessed her to be this shy when it comes to affection. Maybe some of that was my fault, but most if it was her power - I was working on it. I'd have this girl strapping a leash to herself and begging me to rail her with a strap-on in the middle of the dog-park by the time I was done.

I break away reluctantly, a trail of saliva bridging the gap between our lips as we part. "Satisfied?"

Her flaming face nods.

"Then I'll see you again soon." I promise. "I'll cook dinner for us both." I make a shooing gesture. "Go check on your dogs. You know you want to, I've still got a few things to do here."

This time, she obeys. I drink in the sight of her retreating from the room. That never got old.

But it could be improved on. Those two Masters, the walking piles of mental issues dangling over the edge of causing a major crisis for the city... they couldn't be any harder to deal with than Rachel. Not when they had no idea that I already knew everything about them. Not when I knew all of their tricks already. From the biology control, to the audio files, to the harmless spirals - and anything else would quickly become obvious and predictable too, once I gathered more data. And the third, mystery person... I'd have her, too. Assuming it was a 'her'. A five-person team, led by me and subservient to me in every way possible. Not even Coil could complain about the results I was getting then. Hell, he might even have to start lending his power to me in the same way I did to him - to ensure that our deal was sufficiently beneficial for both of us, once I had the power of an entire Cape team at my beck and call. Well. He'd probably be the PRT director not long after that - so maybe I shouldn't push the issue too hard. This was a very profitable arrangement for the both of us. We could both drag each other to prison if we came to blows. We both knew that. Not doing that was the smart thing to do.

Cracking my fingers, I settle down to working out everything that there was to know about what probably went down between Taylor and Amy on that one fateful day. The specifics of powers, first. The range. The duration. The limitations. Coil's concerns were misplaced, but not unfounded. These were Masters I was dealing with. Getting myself caught through simple lack of caution, even with all of the advantages I had going in - that would be a crushing blow to my ego. One that I probably wouldn't have the good sense to think about, at least - on account of being their obedient, slutty pet instead of the other way around.

But that wouldn't happen. I'd collect all three of these would-be Masters with delusional dreams of grandeur, and show them their real place on the totem pole. Just like Rachel, their strength compared to mine would only make it more satisfying when I won anyway - when I outwitted them in every battlefield that mattered and had them begging me to take charge of the mess that they were making of their lives. And I would graciously accept that as the natural order of things, their powers had clearly done a number on their personalities - them giving up their independence to the only one of us that still had common sense was just... common sense. Of course I would take responsibility for them. Because what kind of Team Leader didn't take care of their teammates? Not me, certainly.

The future was looking bright indeed. Both theirs and mine.

Even if they didn't know it yet.