"He is in there?" Lung asked with a grunt. The two ABB members nodded silently, more out of fear than anything. They were standing outside of an old farm house just off highway exit on the way to New York state. It obviously had been abandoned a long time ago, with all the glass broken and wooden boards fallen into a state of decay. But even when the land around it had all been purchased, someone had still been making payments on the house. The person using it wasn't a secret, far from it. It was just generally better to leave him alone.

But they were up against a different sort of enemy if recent days were anything to go by. It was time for Lung to risk it. And Supesu wasn't that hostile, for the most part.

Lung walked up the garage door where a light could be seen underneath the old door that couldn't close properly. He raised a fist to knock on it but paused.

"Get back in the car." Lung told the other men. "I'll be quick as possible." The ABB members didn't need to be told twice, all but running back to their car. With that done, Lung knocked on the garage door.

Instantly he was met with furious, high pitched laughter before for a squeaky, breathless voice called out to him saying,

"Come in, come in, hehe. Supesu so rarely gets visitors."

Lung only hesitated for a moment before reaching down and grabbing the edge of the garage door and pulling it open with a loud screeching noise.

Inside, Supesu was perched on a chair watching cartoons and eating a bowl of fruity cereal, laughing as the characters were bent out of shape as cartoons do.

Supesu was the more humanoid of the Case 53s, maintaining a humanoid form in a broad sense of the word. His arms and legs were anywhere from three to four feet long as well as equal in length to each other. His skin was clinging to him like he had long since starved, with his ribs sticking out like a cliff face over the area where his stomach would be. He didn't wear any clothing except for the white scarf around his neck, which allowed Lung to see he didn't have any genitalia of any sort. And given how high pitched his voice could be, Lung wasn't quite sure he was a male at all.

Supesu slowly turned his head to look at Lung, showing him the permanent smile that was almost too large for his face as the skin peeled back his lips so tightly it revealed every last tooth in his mouth. His eyes were slitted, like a snake's, and were partially hidden behind black hair that covered them.

"Supesu is visited by the dragon. Supesu is honored." As he said it, Supesu set the bowl of cereal down and started to lean backwards out of the chair, his back bending in an unnatural manner. As his hands touched the floor the rest of his body came with him, putting him in a spider like position on the floor as his knees bent backward so every limb was pointed away from his body.

"What brings the dragon to Supesu?" He asked. Lung felt a chill go down his spine as he realized the creature was speaking perfectly without touching his lips together.

"I've come to recruit you," Lung said as strongly as he could.

"Recruit Supesu? Why, The Workers must be giving you trouble. Indeed, indeed."

"How do you know of-"

"The Workers?" It asked, tilting its head oddly. "Supesu has television, you know."

"Then you will know that they-"

"Are dangerous, yes. Supesu knows. Supesu has seen. Supesu knows Workers better than Asian dragon thinks. But Supesu is content in house. Supesu has food, has cartoon. Life couldn't be better for Supesu.

"But Supesu wants more," It suddenly said, turning completely around and scurrying to its work bench. "You can give Supesu more?"

Lung swallowed. "More what?"

"More Supesu! Space!" The creature pulled a tiny rock from its work bench and tossed it on the ground, it glowed purple for a moment before creating a light blue bubble the size of a basket ball. Supesu released a giggle as a bubble was filled with bright blue flames.

"Supesu made this bubble special, so collective kinetic energy of a gas molecule's lifetime it shortened to one moment. That is my supesu, my space. Supesu makes rule for supesu, and supesu deliver for Supesu."

"You wish to use your power more," Lung realized.

"Yes, yes," the creature hissed in delight. "Supesu not dumb. Supesu knows if he steals more than he steals now he will have to fight other shiny capes. Supesu wants to help dirty capes, they protect Supesu so Supesu can make bigger supesu."

"I can do that for you," Lung said. "And I can promise that my men will treat you with kindness and respect."

"Kindness? Oh no no. Only one person has ever shown me kindness, she give Supesu scarf see?" It lifted the scarf for Lung to look at. "Thought Supesu was homeless, gave to Supesu to keep warm for winter." It paused as if stuck in reflection. "She was first person to ever die in supesu."

---

"I still don't understand why we can't send men to take the ripe territory," Whirlygig said sourly. Scribe sighed and pushed his glasses up on his nose.

Whirlygig. Scribe's power told him. Not as charismatic as Skidmark, but smarter. Always thought she could do a better job than him. Hated his style. Hated his smell. Lots of resentment, little respect. Was closer to Mush, is in the first stage of loss. Not because of close bond, but because he was her only bond. She's ambitious, wants to take Merchants to higher level.

'Well', Scribe thought as if his power could speak back to him. 'Can't have that now can we?'

"It is like I said," Scribe explained again. "Right now The Empire and ABB are fighting each other, if we attempt to expand it only gives them an enemy to unite against. We should instead use the chaos to place more dealers deeper in their territory."

"What about The Doctor territory then?" Whirlygig snarled. "Those fuckers attacked us, are we supposed to take that lying down?"

"Need I remind you that The Doctors didn't come to take our territory or steal or drug supplies, they were targeting our capes. Trying to fight them is the reason Mush has died." Whirlygig winced and gripped the edges of Skidmark's old desk with her hands until her knuckles turned white.

"And who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can't do?" She hissed. Scribe shrugged, this wasn't an uncommon reaction towards him. He got it with Skidmark, and he got it with the man before him, and he'll get from whoever comes after Whirlygig.

"As I said," Scribe answered, "I am an accountant of sorts, I do the management around here. And I also council the leader of The Merchants, something Skidmark did not make good use of and ended up dead. I trust you can be smarter than him?"

"I don't need your fucking advice! I'm the one that is in charge shitstain, you fucking listen to me!"

"Whirlygig," Scribe said firmly, crossing his arms. "I'm about to say something and I suggest you listen because it is the most important lesson I can give you about running The Merchants.

"In our peak season, we can have upwards of five hundred dealers on the streets in every corner of the city. Given that, exactly how many of these drug dealers do you trust to give you your fair share based on honour?"

"Fuck all," Whirlygig said with a frown.

"Precisely," Scribe said with a nod. "That's where I come in. You see, I keep track of all our dealers and make sure they give their share, I keep track of our suppliers and make sure the right paycheck ends up in the right pocket, I keep track of the inventory to make sure no one is stealing product, I make sure no other drug rings crop up in our city, and most important of all, I advise our leader on how best to maintain the gang."

"If you're so buttfucking important how come I ain't never seen you?" She asked accusingly. Scribe nodded understandingly.

"Because if people knew I signed the paychecks, so to speak, whose authority does it undermine?"

"Under mine?"

"You look like less of a leader if people realize I'm the one keeping the books." Scribe corrected without even thinking about it. "You don't want them coming to me when they have an issue, do you?"

"No."

"Good, now as I was saying. Skidmark never liked listening to me-"

'Then again, I make sure no Merchant likes listening to me.'

"- but the thing he had the most trouble grasping was that we want to be small. We want to be insignificant enough to be ignored most of the time. Because if we are perceived as a threat, we will be treated as a threat."

'Which is exactly why we were a threat.' He would have added that last part, if he thought her addled mind could have handled the concept. Instead, he let her work it out on her own. She frowned and thought about it for a moment.

"That sounds fucking stupid." She concluded. "I want to give those brotherfuckers a bloody fuckin' nose. We're going to take some of The Doctor's territory."

Scribe sighed and conceded to her. "If that is what you want, I'll pull some people together for you. Meet them downstairs in say, two hours?"

"Yeah, whatever." She said with a wave.

"One more thing," Scribe said, he pulled out a half sheet of paper from his pocket and slid it across the desk to her. "A speech," he said. "Feel free to… colour it with words of your choosing, but it should do the trick in making the others feel better about your leadership."

WIth that, Scribe turned on his heels and walked out of the 'office' Skidmark had made for himself. Whirlygig wasn't a great fit, but neither was Skidmark. That can be remedied, Scribe decided.

He pulled out a cell phone and dialed it as he worked his way towards a secluded portion of the building so he could remove his costume. After dialing the number, he got an answer on the second ring.

"Yeah, boss?" Jacobson said on the other end of the line.

"Get a team together," Scribe said. "Whirlygig wants to make a strike into Doctor territory. Make sure things fall apart."

"Just like with Skidmark? Isn't it a little soon, boss?"

"It's better that she learns this lesson sooner rather than later, see to it. You have less than two hours to get prepared."

"Understood boss." Scribe flicked the phone shut and double checked to make sure he was alone before removing the mask that covered the lower half of his face, took off the black haired wig to release his curly red hair, and exchanged his wire frame glasses for pair with thicker rims.

Tom Monta exited the old factory warehouse and proceeded to walk two blocks to his car. None of the roaming Merchants bothered him.

Climbing into his car he found a stainless steel suitcase sitting in the passenger seat. Tom had a guess as to what it was, which was confirmed when he read the note sitting on top of it.

Payment has gone through. Six vials, as requested. -C

"Good, good," Tom muttered to himself before starting his car.

Tom had always considered that among The Merchants, he had the greatest superpower of all. He didn't do drugs. It kept his mind sharp among a sea of violent, unstable, addicted, dirty, savage, morons. It also allowed him to make sure money was always flowing directly to him.

What most people didn't realize was that as gangs age they begin to operate more and more like a business. A brand new gang might be able to get away with some disorganization, but it never lasts. Eventually, someone needs to start keeping the books. In his research, Tom found that the all human gang in Chicago had actual books, stacks of composition journals where they recorded every single transaction as a long mind numbing string of numbers. Tom was a little more proficient than that.

The Merchants, in particular, had posed an interesting dynamic to him when he first found them. Drug dealers working together? Not unheard of, but it never lasts. When nearly everyone included in the gang is on mind altering substances the level of in fighting and sheer amount of insubordination would tear apart a gang like that before it even got thirty members strong.

But put in someone with large amounts of charisma, maintain control of the drug supply, and make sure they were always coming back to you for their fix, and then a person could build a proper gang. Or as proper as The Merchants got.

Arriving at his home, a large two-story house that was far too much for a single man, Tom pulled the car to a stop and sat there silently for a moment as he considered things. Pulling the case into his lap, he opened it up and peered inside.

Six vials, three green, three red. He considered them for a time, thinking of the candidates he had previously selected for them. He used his power on them each day, only one showed any sign of significant change that might be harmful to him. The others though, they were ready.

'But will they just be another Skidmark and Mush when these Doctors come knocking again?'

The Doctors were not like the other villains in the city. They didn't care that they were a non-threat. They didn't even care about the drugs. All they cared about was killing their capes. For what purpose, Tom didn't know. And he hated not knowing.

Pulling out a cellphone, he redialed a number that had called him once before. It took four rings before it was picked up.

"Hello Coil," Scribe began, "I would like to discuss that offer you gave me the other day…"

---

Sophia flopped on the bed she was provided in her cell. She was allowed a cell phone now, benefits of being a Ward. Or at least, on her way to being one. She didn't really understand what exactly had happened. There was no interrogation, no courts, no one pressing charges, she didn't even spend that long in handcuffs. One minute she is sitting silently in an interrogation, thinking what she could say to soften the blow against her when Director Piggot came in and placed a packet of papers in front of her.

'I don't like you,' Piggot had said. 'And I know a lot of other people don't like you. And legally, we could bury you. But someone doesn't want that, so here is the deal.' At that point, Piggot had thrown a pen on top of the papers. 'You sign everything in there, you make our rules your bible, you attend counseling twice a week, you don't leave this building for at least a year, you get excellent grades in our provided schooling, and you don't so much as leave a dot out of any paperwork you file for the rest of your career and your crimes will disappear and against my wishes you become a Ward. Do not say anything, don't even move your head. Either grab the pen and start signing to show you understand and accept or don't. Your head.' And that had been it. She signed each paper, barely glancing at most of them until she realized she was in no uncertain terms signing some of her human rights away. Even then, it had been too late. She was already halfway to hell.

She shook her head and turned her mind back to Emma, the phone call being one of the few things she was allowed. And even then it was heavily monitored and listened to.

"... and then she fucking punched me!" Emma said.

"Huh," Sophia said out of genuine curiosity. "Hebert finally fought back. Good."

"Good?!"

"Yes," Sophia said simply. "That was what we were doing it for, wasn't it? She would either learn her lesson like you did and fight back and become a predator. Or she was always going to let herself get pushed around and walked over, staying prey. We've made her better."

She knew she was pushing it, dancing on the edge of what would have been an acceptable conversation. But without blatantly stating what they had done on top of the guarantee that her crimes were gone she was fairly sure this would pass so long as Emma kept her head on.

"So… What are we going to do?"

"Lay off," Sophia said simply. "See if she'll stay that way, or if she'll go back to being prey again."

"I don't- Shit, my dad is calling me. I got to go."

"Bye," Sophia said with a bored tone before hanging up. She held the phone in front of her blankly, idly playing with it.

"Hebert, huh?" She said to herself. She had been forced to lay off when that blonde girl, Lisa, not-so-subtly blackmailed her. Suddenly Sophia frowned. Lisa had known things, things she shouldn't have been able to know about everyone. Just like that blonde girl with Nova had known her chosen cape name. They even sounded similar.

But if they were the same person then…

Sophia smirked.

"Well, it looks like my kindness was the best thing for you, Taylor."

"Coil," a woman's voice stated. Upon hearing the familiar and daunting voice on the other end of the line, Coil leaned back in his office chair and suppressed a sigh.

"What can I do for you?" He asked.

"We require your pet team of teenagers are allowed to become heroes."

"And how do you propose that I do that?" Coil asked, a little annoyance creeping into his voice. He would have asked why, but the question has never got him anywhere before. Even still, perhaps he should have made a timeline for it just to check.

"Simply allow them to be arrested, we'll handle the rest."

"Surely I can be allowed to keep Ergo and his-"

"No, you can get Thinkers elsewhere. Ergo must go too." The was a click on the other end, signaling the end of the conversation. Coil let out a frustrated sigh and pulled up to his computer before opening an email.

Ergo, Coil wrote, forgot your search for Miss Lindt, I have a new assignment for you. Tell Regent and Biohazard you're coming back and meeting a new team member I have been grooming, a cape by the name of Grue. -C

Coil leaned back in his chair and considered things for a long time. When a message was sent back, Coil split the world in two and typed two different replies.

A/N: Supesu is a case 53 with the ability to charge inorganic objects by sticking them in his mouth. While in his mouth, Supesu decides what rule the 'space' will have. There are two limitations. 1) The event horizons of these spaces must be traversable by anything more complex than a bug and 2) While the rules he is able to set are very flexible, space will fail to deploy if the rule causes the immediate death of people and animals inside of it. For instance, the fire Space you saw him make would fail if he deployed it on a human because it was his rule that summoned the fire. But if he were to simply make a space where oxygen can neither leave nor enter, people inside would suffocate. The longer Supesu spends charging something the larger space will get, giving him the potential to be an S class threat and hit an entire city with one space. But his broken mind would never do it, which is why he is why Cauldron allowed him to be free. So far he has caused three people to trigger, only killing one person as there is nothing less funny than a corpse.

Scribe has two powers. His first gives him an accurate measure of a person's personality, goals, and general level of intelligence. His second make him able to handle numbers and micro manage incredibly well. As he is neither charismatic, willing to do drugs, and looks very nerdy in appearance, he puts others in charge of The Merchants and manipulates them accordingly. Because of his appearance and mannerisms, he receives no respect from The Merchants. He is fine with this as it makes them feel superior and lets him manipulate them better. As drugs are a very lucrative business, Scribe makes a lot of money while keeping the rest of The Merchants reasonably poor. Knowing that their drug addled minds will neither look nor comprehend the books, he can get away with a lot.

Ergo is a Thinker meant to replace Lisa in Coil's plan. He understands how things work, intuitively. Including a limited view into basic Tinker tech principles. He often tricks people into thinking he is a Tinker by combining all the Tinker 0-1 principles he's learned into one suit to make him seem closer to a Tinker 3 or 4.

Biohazard is a bio tinker limited to self-enhancement. Her body augments do not work with other people.