Interlude: Coil
Probability Alpha
"Subject captured and delivered to base," crackles the transmitter, and Coil nods with satisfaction.
"Prepare the interrogation room," he says into the selector. "And cut the external lines. I'll be busy."
"Yes sir," comes the short reply from the other end. Thomas Calvert stands and tosses a couple of headache pills into his mouth. Probably many in his position would enjoy the thought of what he could do to a young blonde—there's a category of people who like that sort of thing. He doesn't enjoy torturing people. And her screams will definitely give him a headache. Besides, when Tattletale is tortured, she goes all out—pressing the most painful pressure points, bombarding the psyche with precisely calibrated insults, trying to destroy self-esteem, and capable of making her torturers kill themselves right in the interrogation room. There have been precedents.
So unfortunately, he can't entrust her interrogation to anyone else. Besides, he already knows most of what she's hiding from him. He knows she's been waging her guerrilla war against him for a long time, learning the locations of accounts and access codes, picking up keys to his mercenaries and getting to the heart of his operations on the coast and inland.
So this won't take much time. His ability allowed him, on one hand, to collapse probability lines—to choose between reality A and reality B, where in reality A he performed some action, and in reality B he didn't. At the same time, he retained memory of what happened in both realities. Simply put, suspecting Tattletale of duplicity and betrayal in one reality, he could torture her to death while at the same time in another reality she would remain alive and healthy, but the memory of her confessions would be preserved.
With other employees, Thomas could manage without these medieval methods. Most of them couldn't cause any harm in principle, being simply well-armed mercenaries with their own code of honor, knowing only what was reported to them, able only to kill and maim people. Yes, they were good at their job, but that's all. It was a bit more complicated with the Travelers, but their motives were simple. However, Tattletale... at one time he was forced to persuade her to cooperate through force. Otherwise, she rejected any attempts to recruit her. And she's a high-category Thinker—such people are needed on the team.
Thomas Calvert knew there were categories of people from whom it was difficult to earn loyalty, and Tattletale was exactly that type. He would have preferred her to cooperate voluntarily, for money, or perhaps for career considerations, but... Tattletale's power made material demands insignificant. She could earn any conceivable sum on the stock exchange, multiplying available capital, and even if she started with ten dollars, she would double her investments every few days without much effort.
So Tattletale—Lisa Wilbourn or Sarah Livsey—didn't need money. She could earn enough herself. Exactly enough—she wasn't a fool and didn't need billions, that would attract unwanted attention, but in reality she didn't need funds for living expenses or buying a car or house.
Unfortunately, Thomas Calvert couldn't give her anything except money. So in the moment he had to react quickly, try different methods, promise security, career growth, opportunities, power and... of course, threaten. In the end, only threats worked—real threats. Tattletale could see a bluff from a thousand miles away and ignored such attempts.
However, Thomas Calvert had a plan. He needed Tattletale and the newly triggered Precog, the mayor's niece, Dinah Alcott. He needed his own Thinker Tank, the same as the United States government and the PRT had, and possibly even better. The arms race among capes doesn't depend on the number of recruited capes, but rather on their quality, so he had chances. As for his plan... he created the Undersiders team from nothing and fed them small assignments, keeping them on salary. Of course, it's true that he needed a third force, people who would carry out certain orders and who wouldn't be directly linked to Coil. However, only an idiot would think the Undersiders were needed only for that. He has mercenaries, the Travelers already work for him, he's hired the Faultline crew several times and even outside capes—not everyone knows how to make money from thin air, most capes still need it.
The Undersiders were needed by Thomas Calvert for only one purpose—to tie Tattletale to himself. Gather a team of losers who would go through trials together... a soldier in a trench doesn't fight for a distant homeland or a political leader. He fights for comrades sitting next to him in that same trench.
Tattletale's ability to analyze and draw conclusions looks almost like a miracle from the outside, and Tattletale herself seems incredibly wise. However, her ability can't do anything about her emotional sphere—she still remains just a young girl, albeit a very informed one. She receives information like a prospector receives gold, but what to do with it and how to dispose of it—these decisions are made not by an all-wise goddess, but by an ordinary girl with her hormonal mood swings and childhood psychological traumas. Sarah Livsey is an older sister who couldn't protect her younger brother, who isn't valued or loved in the family, who was cynically used from early childhood—she's a runaway. What she needs most is family. A strict but loving father... rather, a father figure. A significant adult. A soft and kind mother figure. Younger sisters and brothers. Then Sarah Livsey, aka Lisa Wilbourn, would be stable. Stability is important for work. However, more importantly—then Tattletale would be loyal. Faithful to her family.
The Undersiders are a semblance of family, people with whom she spends most of her life, inevitably begins to be penetrated by their problems, becomes emotionally attached to them, shares successes and failures together, rejoices and grieves together... she becomes one of them. Already in the last interrogation session, Lisa showed a high degree of loyalty to her teammates, refused to give them up to the last, even beyond the threshold where she usually broke—she held on only for their sake. He specifically set up beacons for the Undersiders, his vulnerable points, gave each their own secret, their own reason to rebel against him. And when Lisa began hiding these points for the sake of her partners—that was an indicator.
So his plan was working. Lisa Wilbourn began to perceive these losers as members of her family. This already gave him additional leverage over her. However, everything was ahead—later he himself should become for her a figure embodying paternal care. In those probability lines he kept, he never touched her with a finger, always treated her with exaggerated courtesy, letting all sorts of liberties slide. However, in the future... he was going to save the Undersiders. First put them in a disadvantageous position, but not independently, no. Tattletale would understand. In this city, it's enough to simply exist as a team of independent capes and trouble will definitely find you. And when they're cornered, when they're defeated and smeared on the asphalt, and preferably there should be a tragedy, someone from the main roster should die, preferably Bitch or Regent—they're uncontrollable enough—then he would appear on the scene and save Tattletale. And her surviving comrades.
Of course Tattletale would suspect, of course she would think, analyze... but despite all her intelligence, she can't control herself properly. First PTSD, when battle thunders around, when your comrades die in your arms, when bullets whistle and you sit pressing your helmet to your head and silently screaming into space—then all arguments of reason and logic don't work. What does logic mean against feelings? People never act logically—only from the outside does Tattletale seem rational, but he knows what she's really like. For example, it would be logical for her to immediately give him all the Undersiders and their pathetic plans against him, hand them over completely, not bringing things to extremes. Of course, he would continue torturing her anyway, but that would be logical. But Tattletale only did that the first time. So everything was going according to plan.
The only thing that seriously bothered him was Tattletale's involvement in some incomprehensible relationship with Taylor Hebert, the current Butcher Fifteen. The girl turned out to be so stupid that she immediately killed the Butcher and received all his legacy in one package. Too bad, Skitter had considerable potential, but since she's the Butcher now—no cooperation with her is possible. Calvert decided to temporarily suspend operations in the city—after all, the Butcher was unlikely to stay here long. However, Lisa somehow established contact with this Hebert, and as a result, when his mercenaries should have saved her team from Bakuda—this girl with her insects crawled out.
The mercenaries had orders not to intervene until they killed at least one of the Undersiders... and then it was too late. Dealing with an enraged Fifteenth would be extremely... irrational.
He opens the door and enters the interrogation room. Everything is ready—instruments laid out on a table in metal trays, a drain opened in the floor for... fluids. Naked Tattletale is securely fixed in a dental chair, her eyes are blindfolded, earplugs in her ears, a gag in her mouth. Everything is ready. He walks to the wall, takes a waterproof apron from a hook and puts it over his head. Ties the strings behind his back. Rolls up his sleeves, pulls on latex gloves. Thoughtfully surveys the lying Tattletale. He knows everything about her. She's afraid of electric shocks. Especially when electrodes are attached to her head—for her, the head is her refuge. Needles under nails, burns, cuts, rape—she endures all this with surprising resilience, apparently her ability allows her to abstract from pain. But electric discharge works well. Especially if you insert electrodes in the ears, for example. Eyeballs. Drill the skull in several places without touching the frontal lobes. In this reality, she won't need the ability to walk anyway...
He approaches the chair and removes the earplugs from her ears. Tattletale immediately begins turning her head and mumbling something through the gag. He removes the gag from her mouth, takes off the blindfold.
"Ptui! What... ah... so that's it," says Tattletale, blinking from the bright light. "This is an interrogation room, boss? Why, really, I would have done everything anyway. Or do you like it when a naked girl can't resist?"
"Lisa." He folds his arms across his chest. Her ability works quickly, even faster in critical conditions. He doesn't like torturing people, even though he knows how to do it. But he allows himself to enjoy one moment—the moment when Lisa understands.
Understands what's happening. What exactly awaits her. Understands that she won't leave this room. Understands that regardless of what she says, what she does, how much she begs—she won't leave here. But that's only the first layer of awareness. Then Lisa understands exactly how his ability works, and then—then real despair grips her. Because she understands that everything she experiences now will be in vain. This reality will be collapsed and only he will retain memory of it... but that doesn't mean she won't suffer now. And she has no way to warn herself in another reality.
He watches her eyes carefully so as not to miss the moment when her pupils dilate with horror and understanding.
"I've been here before, haven't I?" Lisa says, trying to smile, but her lips only trembled and froze. She understood.
"Boss... please don't," comes her pleading voice. Thomas Calvert takes out electrodes. Need to start from below. Toes. Groin, electrode with internal penetration, emphasizes helplessness and causes humiliation, the electrode is shaped like a phallus, symbolic rape. Steel clips on nipples. And of course—on the head, fortunately they already shaved it. No blood today, though it will still get very messy here soon. The smell of burned flesh mixed with ammonia from urine... good thing he has a drain in the floor and a hose with cold water.
"When exactly did you decide to betray me, Sarah?" he asks the first question, attaching the last electrode.
"I won't leave here anyway, will I, boss?" Her lips tremble and her voice breaks. Another confirmation that it's not enough to simply possess information. How exactly to dispose of it—that's what matters. He puts the gag in her mouth and applies low voltage to the electrodes. Her body immediately arches, she mumbles something furiously, tears stream from her eyes. He flicks the switch. She sags in the chair, and he removes the gag from her mouth. He can't stand her screams.
"You only speak when I ask and only about what I ask," he says dryly. "Nod if you understand. Don't open your mouth until I ask. So, I'm not going to repeat my question, Sarah. You're a smart girl, remember what question I asked you at the very beginning. If you don't answer correctly, I'll increase the voltage."
"I wasn't going to betray you, boss! Really, don't! Don't—" He gags her again. Flicks the switch. Medium voltage. At this stage, Tattletale usually couldn't hold the contents of her bladder anymore; he'd need to prepare the hose.
"Boss, we have problems!" sounds an insistent voice in his ear. "Recommend immediate evacuation!"
"What's the matter?" he frowns, his hand frozen over the switch. "Dmitri, are there grounds for such advice?"
"We're under attack, boss! And... you don't have much time! First and second posts are already destroyed. And judging by the speed... Aaah!!" Shots and screams came through the earpiece. Communication was cut off.
"What the..." Thomas Calvert lowered his hand that he had raised over the switch. He removed the gag from Tattletale's mouth.
"Now tell me what's happening, Sarah," he says. "You don't have much time. With the next discharge, I'll increase the voltage to high. At that power, flesh begins to burn... and a couple of electrodes are attached to your head. So don't hold back your abilities, you're a smart girl."
"You know what, Thomas Calvert? Go fuck yourself!" Tattletale spits out the words, looking him straight in the eyes, and for the first time in all this time he sees triumph in them.
"You..."
"Want to know what's happening? Really want to? You're a corpse, Thomas Calvert. A corpse in this probability, in the next one, and in the one after that! There's no probability where you could hide. What's happening? Your mercenaries are dead. First post, second, surveillance post, security system... what else do you have? Oh yes, mercenaries from the Elite. They're dead too... well no—dying. But they're lucky because neurotoxin works fast. It paralyzes a person instantly, and then over several minutes the person dies agonizingly from suffocation, but that's nothing compared to what awaits you." She licks her dry lips and smiles. This smile stops him for a moment with its unnaturalness. Like a crack on a tormented face. He decisively presses the earpiece.
"Oscar Romeo, this is Victor Alpha. Requesting India Echo," he drops into the ether. India Echo—immediate evacuation. He's not going to leave everything to chance; it's clear this probability line will collapse anyway, but the longer he lives here, the more information... he irritably slapped his neck, killing a mosquito that... A mosquito?
He raised his palm, on which a crushed insect writhed. A winged ant?
"You must think you're lucky, eh, Thomas?" comes Tattletale's voice. "One bite and that's it? No, you underestimate her. You all underestimate her."
The world turned upside down and the floor hit him in the face. Opening his eyes, he found himself lying on the floor, and the metal door to the interrogation room had been torn from its roots and thrown aside. He tried to get up but couldn't. All he could do was move his lips, making inarticulate sounds.
"Lisa!" A tall dark figure appeared in the doorway, followed by thousands of insects bursting into the room! Hundreds of thousands! The air darkened from their number. The girl rushed to the bound Tattletale, hurriedly freeing her from bonds and electrodes.
The Fifteenth. So that's it, thinks Coil, lying on the floor—she's the Fifteenth, who would have thought. Of course, he'll have to collapse this timeline, change tactics. However, he's already learned enough. But it's worth staying here longer to learn more.
"Miss Hebert..." he wheezes from the floor. "You seemed like a reasonable young lady to me. How unfortunate that..."
"I don't know who you are," comes the voice. The tall girl stands over him, arms folded across her chest. "And I don't want to know. I know enough. You dared to lay a hand on my friend. I don't have so many friends that I can afford to throw them away."
"His ability is to split reality into two probabilities," comes Tattletale's voice. She's already gotten up from the chair and wrapped herself in a spare apron hanging on the wall. "In one, he tortures me about once a month. Finds out everything. Whatever I say—in this reality he kills me anyway. Can you imagine? What a bastard. And then he just collapses reality and lives in another where none of this happened. And I thought, where does he know everything from! He talks to me on the phone, I didn't know... after all, this didn't happen in our reality! For me it's... well, like strange dreams or thoughts, everyone has those. But he..." She stands on tiptoe and whispers something in her tall friend's ear.
"Miss Hebert... no one's been hurt yet, we can negotiate and..."
"Fifty-four corpses. All your mercenaries on the way down," the girl says. "Apparently I was wrong to promise Henry I'd restrain myself. And you..." She tilts her head, and a pain impulse pierces his body! She was aiming for the head! A horde of insects begins devouring his body. If he could scream, he would scream, but his mouth is suddenly filled with a living, biting, stinging, devouring mass.
Collapse reality? Of course. He's not going to endure torment! But... it's not working! He tries to do it again and again. Tattletale, he realizes—she told the Butcher exactly where to hit with the pain impulse to temporarily block his ability to collapse probability! Nothing, nothing, this won't last forever, the ability will work again, or he'll die and then automatically collapse the probability line. How long? A minute? Five minutes? Hundreds of thousands of small mouths tear him to pieces, covering him with bleeding wounds, crawling inside, festering sores open on his body, insects immediately attack the open flesh... five minutes! Just five minutes and that's it! He'll collapse this line, he just needs to concentrate... but he can't do it while the pain impulse turns his brains inside out, festering sores are covered with thousands of carnivorous creatures, while they eat him alive!
"If he's going to collapse this reality anyway—let him learn his lesson first," says Miss Hebert, folding her arms across her chest. "You can track PTSD, can't you, Lisa?"
"All I need is good psychological trauma," she replies, and Miss Hebert nods.
"Good," she says. "So good psychological trauma it is. I'm not an expert, but I know almost a dozen who know how... convenient when you always carry them with you. Can you hear me, Coil? As one of my acquaintances says, only creatures with highly developed nervous systems can suffer. Insects don't suffer—they just feel pain, that's all. Lucky you, you'll experience both. Lisa! Lisa, you're okay now, I see? Get dressed and get out, there's a car at the entrance, and I'll... stay behind. I assure you, you won't want to see what I do to him."
"Oh, I so want to see this. I'd even participate, but I admit I can't compare to you in skill. Hit him with pain right here again..." She points, and the pain impulse again prevents Calvert from concentrating and dropping the probability line.
"Miss Hebert..." his mouth is swollen, full of chitin and small creatures slowly devouring him, tearing off piece by piece. "Please... is this all because of Lisa? Take her... she's yours... I have money..."
"I don't understand a damn thing," the Fifteenth tilts her head. "What's he muttering there? His mouth is stuffed with ants."
"He's saying 'hurt me because I'm a stupid asshole who laid hands on your best friend,'" Tattletale replies, stroking her freshly shaved scalp. "Honest to God. That's what he's saying."