Chapter 3

Life was good for Thomas Calvert. Years of effort, and dozens of plans, would all come to a conclusion in these next few months. Soon, he would have his own little realm to rule, a city where his word was law and his desires, a decree. It wasn't easy, oh no, and he had his share of suffering for his dream, but it would all be worth it in the end, when he ascends to his rightful place.

Discipline, it defined him. He had extraordinary power at his command, but it required patience to utilize. A lesser man would have failed long before achieving anything of note. Deception, cunning, ruthlessness, these things were all necessary for the disciplined man. Even now, just months from his goal, he played his role with care. In one timeline, he sat in his small suburban home, cooking breakfast on his gas stove, the portrait of a lower middle class working man. In the other, he sat in his underground base, reading emails and making plans for the future, his future.

Thomas could have the best of both worlds, after all. A good night's sleep, a healthy breakfast, an entire night of planning, his power gave him all these things and more. He had time, more time than anyone else in the world he suspected, to accomplish his goals. Failure was an inevitability with his power, but, as Thomas had long ago discovered, failure was the universe teaching you how to win. So he would try, over and over he would try. Risk did not exist for Thomas Calvert, no, for he would learn while his enemies wallowed in ignorance, and in the end he always won.

That being said, there was no reason not to cheat every now and then. A new asset had appeared on the horizon, a Thinker that Thomas suspected was his natural companion, even if she did not know it yet. The power to tell the future, a strength that nearly rivaled his own, Thomas almost salivated at the possibilities. She would make a fitting subordinate, one to be cherished and protected so long as she served him well. He would need to train her first, of course, though her age would likely make that simple, and from all accounts the girl was as mature and intelligent as a child could be. She would learn quickly. Still, her... position, as the mayor's niece, made acquiring her difficult. Arranging a distraction for the local heroes would undoubtedly be necessary. The mayor would throw a fit of course, but the man would lack the influence to actually accomplish anything. Thomas could easily conceal his acquisition, at least until she learns her place.

But those were problems for the future.

For now, while one timeline ate breakfast, he furiously researched the ABB's newest recruit. The bomb tinker, despite her appropriately volatile personality, would be incredibly useful. Lung was keeping her close for now, likely cementing her loyalty through some barbaric form of violence. The brute simply did not understand the finer points of indoctrination. Intimidation could be effective, Thomas allowed, and fear was an effective motivator, a simple glance at his Tattletale would confirm it, but fear could only grant control, not obedience. Even now, his pet was trying to break her leash, and it was only through constant exhaustive efforts that he maintained his hold. If only her power didn't require her cognizant, he could so easily- Ah, no need to dwell on it now.

The point was, he needed Lung to be distracted. Angry, really. Enraged to the point of stupidity would be optimal. The kind of fury that would arise from discovering a group of teenagers had robbed him blind. The leader of the ABB was such a simple creature to manipulate.

Once Lung left his tinker alone, Thomas would take her. Well, Coil would take her. With luck he may even buy her loyalty the standard way, without gratuitous amounts of coercion. If the girl had any sense at all, she would thank him for rescuing her from Lung's tender care, and beg him for permission to use the expensive tinker laboratory he had set up. Thomas rather doubted she would cooperate, unfortunately, but he lost nothing by trying. Well, assuming the Undersiders escaped their little heist unharmed. While the majority of the teenage villains were replaceable, losing his Tattletale would be costly. Thomas made a mental note to keep tabs on Lung's movements for a few days following the robbery.

The future King of Brockton Bay wrapped up another email, a simple offer to his... contact, Accord, about a particularly troubling group of villains. With any luck, he would have yet another group of capes under his control, with no one the wiser. In his other timeline, he finished his breakfast and began rinsing his dishes, when a strange smell caught his attention.

Sulfur? Thomas frowned in concern at his gas powered stove. Many comforts were sacrificed over the years, all in the name of a perfect cover, but his current living situation was one of the most irritating. The very first thing he would purchase, once he assumed control of this city, would be a mansion that would make kings weep. And an electric stove. He grunted in irritation, and opened the cabinet beneath his stove, to check the connecting valves. He was no mechanic, but manual labor was not beneath him. Yet. Thomas dug a flashlight out of a nearby drawer, and shined it on the piping that connected to his counter top. The light gave him a perfect view of the spark that vaporized him.

Thomas flinched in his remaining timeline. That was... incredibly unfortunate. He quickly split off a new timeline, pausing to think about his situation in one, and continuing to work in another. The question, he supposed, was whether his death was the result of a freak accident, or an assassination attempt. It was singularly unlikely that his identity as Coil was compromised, as the number of people with that knowledge numbered in the not a fucking soul. Trust was for younger, dumber men. The one man who might discover his identity was firmly under his control, bought with a vice that only Coil could provide. Unlikely did not mean impossible, unfortunately. The sheer number of powers out in the world made such terms as 'impossible' laughable. It was not even the first time Thomas had died, though it was a first for his civilian persona. He had learned to despise these moments, when his two selves were so synchronized, so vulnerable. The idea that someone could kill him permanently was an ever present threat. Still, it was possible that he was the victim of an unfortunate accident. His house was old, after all, and a leaking gas line was not out of the realm of possibility.

But being paranoid never hurt anyone. With this mantra firmly in mind, Thomas' idle timeline quickly scribbled down his address on a blank paper, and called in his... he supposed secretary was the appropriate term, "Mr. Pitter, I have a job for you."

The door to his office opened, and the short, unassuming man entered the room and stood attentively, "Yes sir, how can I be of assistance."

Thomas restrained a sigh, the man was utterly devoted to him, to the extent that it was almost uncomfortable. He was generally dependable though, and serviceable as a gopher. He held out a hand with his address, "I want you to send a team to scout this location. Just scout. Have them survey the surrounding area and report back if they find anything unusual." he paused for a moment in thought, "Also have them check possible vantage points for surveillance." Thomas would need to end this timeline once he heard back from his men, in order to protect his civilian identity, but the waste was necessary. He was safe as one could be, here, behind a score of hardened mercenaries and enough concrete to withstand an Endbringer.

Mr. Pitter left to carry out his orders, and Thomas considered what else he could do. This reality was officially a throwaway, so he might as well accomplish something with it. Perhaps he should have another question and answer session with his Tattletale? He was positive the girl was hiding things from him, and with his most recent assignment... well he expected a certain amount of resistance.

Hmm, but perhaps his safest option was to wait for his men to finish their investigation. The fear of being stuck in a bad timeline was something Thomas had never quite overcome. He would take the safe route, as always, and wait.

He had plenty of time, after all.