Chapter 4

If Thomas had to guess, he would say that things starting going downhill around when the building caught fire. It started simply enough. In one reality, he sat in his office, checking stocks and the local news. In the other, he was recieving a report from Mr. Pitter confirming, yes, his house was now a hole in the ground, from what appeared to be a gas explosion, when the base alarms started blaring in both his timelines. After a few moments, the noise cut off, and Thomas looked expectantly at the short man beside him.

"That was the fire alarm, sir." Mr. Pitter answered his silent question.

Thomas frowned as the icy grip of paranoia crept up his spine, "I do hope the base isn't going to burn down. It's mostly concrete after all."

"No sir, that seems unlikely." His secretary glanced nervously at the door before continuing, "Perhaps I should check in with the men... just in case?"

"Perhaps you should." Thomas replied dryly, waving his hand to dismiss the fool. He licked his lips in thought, quickly forming a plan, then closed the timeline. He split reality once again, demanding an update from his base commander in one, while furiously packing in the other. Thomas did not believe in coincidences. This was either a very odd day, or an attack. His survival instincts, refined through years of paranoia and a city of aberrations, screamed the latter.

Finally, after a tense few seconds, his base commander replied to his query, "Sir, someone pulled the fire alarm in the building above us. The fire department is en route, and people are evacuating."

"Is there actually a fire? Where did it originate?" Thomas demanded.

"Yes sir. Somewhere on the upper floors. We aren't sure of the exact location." came the stoic reply.

Thomas paused, quickly considering his options. "Consider this base compromised." he ordered, "Have a team clear the area around the rear exit. We are moving our operation to location Delta." If he was wrong about things, well, it was time for a move anyway. The new location was still under construction, but it was in a less strategically apparent position. Thomas should never have given in to convenience, this base's location was far too obvious!

In his other reality, Thomas finished piling his personal items into a duffel bag and left his office, barking orders at the nearest mercenary. "You!" he threw his bag at the man, "Find Creep. Tell him to change into civilian clothes and leave through the rear exit, then bring a van around to the front of the building and wait for my signal." The man snapped off a salute and hurried to complete his orders. Thomas whirled around to his secretary, "Mr. Pitter, I'm leaving the base. Have a plan drawn up to move our operation to location Delta within the next two days." Thomas left the room without waiting for acknowledgement.

His current base originated as an unfinished endbringer shelter. Thomas had repurposed it for his own needs, bricking up the stairwell that would have let large crowds of people enter the structure. There were only two ways in and out of the base. A heavily concealed underground tunnel that led to a warehouse half a block away, or the express elevator from the office building above. An elevator which required a keycard to use, and had a hidden fingerprint scanner for secondary verification. Thomas regretted not rigging the thing with a Claymore or five as he entered it, quickly stripping out of his Coil costume and dumping it before the doors closed. He swiped his card, held his finger over the scanner, and sighed in contentment as the elevator ascended.

Safe. All he had to do was blend in with the crowd of evacuating civilians. He wasn't Coil, he was just Thomas Calvert, here visiting his friend Claire Rutherford, who worked as a secretary for Lynx Tech on the third floor, for lunch.

Cover stories were a way of life for him at this point. Unfortunately, it did him little good, as he made it four steps out of the elevator before a cold hand clamped onto his neck, and he lost all feeling below his head. He collapsed in a boneless heap, groaning as his head connected with the floor.

"Hello Thomas." a woman's voice, colder than the depths of space, hissed into his ear, "I've been looking for you."

Thomas took little joy in having his paranoia confirmed. "Please help me!" he shouted in not entirely mock terror, "I've been a prisoner of the super-villain Coil for almost a year now! She's been blackmailing me into acting as her figurehead, but I managed to escape in the confusion of the fire!"

In his other reality he barked out orders on his intercom, "Take a team through the service elevator, full gear! Kill any woman you find, within fifty feet of the elevator! Now!" The attention he would draw from such overt action was meaningless next to someone knowing his civilian identity. He could survive any retaliation, so long as he had his cover intact.

In the meantime, his captured self desperately searched for a lifeline, "Are you with the Protectorate? They can confirm who I am! I can offer information on the real Coil! She's a thinker with super intuition, she can tell everything about you with just a glance! She probably has compromised every level of the local government through coercion and blackmail!"

The concrete floor scraped against Thomas' face as his captor flipped him over. He quickly memorized the appearance of his enemy, ruthlessly supressing his bruised pride at her age. "So you're just an innocent caught in all this?" she asked, her voice tinged with dark amusement as she laid a hand on his cheek, "Then I guess you won't mind if I unplug that power of yours, just in-"

Thomas slammed that timeline closed. He took a shaky breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. Was she bluffing, or could she interfere with powers somehow? No. It didn't matter, he had to assume she could. A single touch could be disastrous. He split reality once again.

In both timelines, he broadcasted a description throughout the base, "Our enemy is a young, short female. Asian descent, black hair with blue highlights. She is at least a Striker 6, able to paralyze with a touch. Try to take her alive, but lethal measures are authorized." He would prefer to interrogate her, discover how exactly she knew of him, but he would settle for a corpse at this point. The girl was too dangerous to live.

In one reality, he continued his orders, "Furthermore, we are locking down the base gentlemen. Anyone not currently assigned a task, is to guard the entrances in full gear." He then sat back at his desk and picked up his phone. It was time to call in more men.

In his other reality, he again began the process of packing away his personal items. Thomas suspected staying in his base would be the safest course of action, but keeping both his realities so close together was galling to him. Once he received an all clear from his ground team, he would take the rear exit and flee this position.

Circumstances refused to cooperate with his caution, however, as the base shook around him in both realities, and the fire alarm began blaring once again. A few moments later, Mr. Pitter rushed into his office, "The building above us has collapsed sir! The service elevator is on fire and smoke is starting to enter the base. We need to evacuate!"

Thomas frowned in frustration and considered his options. This base was not equipped with a self-destruct, but it did have a purge function for the local network. He would lose an uncomfortable amount of data but... With a sigh, he punched the codes in on both timelines. Hesitation would do him no good here.

"Mr. Pitter," in one timeline, Thomas dug through a nearby locker, and passed over a half dozen spare Coil outfits, "Have some men put those on. It's time to leave."

The other Thomas instead handed over a single outfit, "Put that on. It's time to leave." He opened the deepest drawer in his desk and removed a large bag, ignoring the frightened little man complying with his orders. He entered his personal bathroom and unzipped the bag, revealing a kevlar jacket, a black shirt and cargo pants, a foldable tinker-tech rifle, and a balaclava.

It's not paranoia if people are really out to get you.

Fully disguised as just another mercenary, Thomas left his office to join the group Mr. Pitter had assembled. In his other reality, Thomas was already making his way through the long tunnel that led to the rear exit, surrounded by his mercenaries, of which, six were dressed in 'Coil' outfits. The path was lit by small bulbs, their soft glow providing just enough light to navigate by. This path was rarely used by his men, and he could see where the boot prints of the clearing party had disturbed the dust.

Thomas made it to the halfway point, while his Mercenary self only just entered the tunnel, when the lights flickered and died. A tense moment passed with a frantic rustling of gear, before each mercenary flicked on a light. The tunnel was wide enough for four people to stand shoulder to shoulder, so their formation was a simple square, with the disguised Coils in the middle, each protected by a man with a large gun. The strategy was perfect for defending against a lone striker, who would have no idea which Coil was the correct one, and have few options for closing the gap.

It did absolutely nothing to defend against the concrete ceiling melting, and crashing down upon them like a waterfall.

A plethora of screams were cut off as the slurry surrounded each man and hardened, while tinker-tech weapons were crushed into powder under the weight of hard stone. Thomas hurled the man in front of him into the wave of grey liquid, and trod on his back as he leapt past the chaos. He managed to touch solid ground, breaking into a roll to conserve momentum, before a river of concrete flowed around his legs and locked him into place.

A small shape dropped into view, illuminated only by a fallen flashlight, and slowly approached him. Thomas could barely make out a pleased smile, before he closed the timeline.

He split his remaining timeline once again, giving orders in both. "She can manipulate the concrete in the ceiling and floor," he whispered to his minions, "Spread out. She is hiding in the ceiling. Once the lights flicker, open fire immediately."

In one reality, he went forward with his men, in the other he lingered at the tunnel entrance. His enemy clearly had some way of identifying him, but while his disguise was useless, his gun would work just fine.

The lights flickered, in both timelines. Shouts of "Open fire!" echoed up and down the tunnel, and the crackling screech of tinker-tech lasers joined the din. The ceiling disintegrated as heat ripped away layers of concrete, and for a moment Thomas felt triumph. Then, from within the storm of laser-fire, a rippling wave of pressure tore downwards, and through the assembled soldiers. A crack of displaced air set Thomas' ears ringing, and the shock wave hurled him off his feet.

In his other timeline, he listened carefully, but only heard the constant whine of lasers. "Do you have a visual?" he shouted urgently into his radio, "Is the target-" The ceiling above him melted, and Thomas reflexively closed the timeline, as a hand reached through the liquid towards his face.

Thomas groaned as he rolled to his feet, shakily examining his surroundings. His mercenaries were all in various states of disorientation, their weapons broken upon the ground. Thomas glanced at his own rifle, shattered and useless, hanging off his shoulder. He lacked the clarity of a concussion-free timeline, and could only stare blankly, as a wave of concrete detached from the wall and surrounded him.

Trapped! Vulnerable! Adrenaline thundered through his veins. He thrashed at the hard walls, screaming himself hoarse, until a lack of oxygen ate away at his consciousness.

He closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness that consumed his mind. Anything to escape this fear, this cage, this tomb.