Chapter Sixty-Three

They humiliated him. They humiliated his Undersiders. And worse, no matter how hard he tried to get retribution, Thomas Calvert failed.

He ran his fingers over Mister Mitten’s back, the gentle caress of fur and the rumbling purr from the arm of his chair the only thing keeping him calm.

Oh, how they had humiliated him.

And oh how they would rue the day they crossed Coil!

In his other timeline, the one he intended to keep, Thomas was walking through the corridors of the PRT headquarters downtown. Head held high, a slight hint of a smile on his lips and the sort of straight-backed posture that told those around him that he had a plan.

He arrived in the lobby area before the Director’s office and nodded to the secretary. “Calvert, for Piggot. I have an appointment in...” he shifted his arm and looked at his watch. Finely crafted Swiss gears, made before the country’s fall, displayed the time. “One minute.”

The secretary nodded and said the usual pleasantries before gesturing to one of the chairs off to the side. He and Piggot had always had a... rocky relationship, so he came in expecting to be sidelined and yanked along just for her to assert her dominance as she was wont to do.

His plan was quite simple, really. Oh, it hinged on a few things, notably the behaviour of someone that could at best be considered... erratic. But he suspected that it would succeed, and even if it didn’t, it would still cause endless trouble for his new adversaries.

Mister Mittens purred louder as he began to rub him behind the ears.

“Mister Calvert, you may enter now.”

Thomas slid into Piggot’s austere office and took one glance at the spartan surroundings before seating himself across from the corpulent woman. “Piggot,” he said.

“Calvert,” she returned. “You said you had a solution to my little... problem?”

“It’s not that big an issue, we both know. You took a hit to your image but that can and will be recuperated, in time,” he said.

“Contrary to what you might believe, I'm not a fool. And I have advisers far brighter than you telling me the obvious,” she said. “Get to the point.”

“Always so cynical.”

“Always an ass,” she returned.

Thomas smiled genially. In his secondary reality his hand spasmed over Mister Mittens and the cat jumped off the arm of his chair and onto his desk. It was a new desk, with a recessed keyboard that had a cover over it. The cat had already set off one self-destruct by walking across the board, he didn’t need a second such incident.

“I contacted a... source of mine and through certain channels was able to secure a resource that will be visiting Brockton Bay very soon. You should be hearing about it in the coming days,” he said.

Piggot’s eyebrows rose. “Are you trying to sound like a conniving manipulator or is it just second nature to you now?”

“Come now, Piggot, we’re facing the same adversary here.”

“You have problems with a group of little girls? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to hear your sordid tale of robbing them of their girl scout cookies.”

He snorted. “They’re very good for business, especially their last little venture on the Boardwalk. Unfortunately they’re good for the wrong businesses. I have... investments that are suffering because of them.”

“Thomas, if your plan in any way injures literal children I can assure you that on your way to the deepest, darkest pit I can find you will suffer some terrible accident.”

“Don’t be that way. I just want to get them out of the way. They can go back to... whatever it is girls do. I don’t really give a damn,” he lied. He did give a damn. He wanted them in his employ. With an army of pets he would be unstoppable!

“Right,” Piggot said. “So what’s this no-doubt stupid plan of yours?”

“The Brat Brigade are rogues, and because of their advantageous public relations have placed themselves in a position where you can’t truly do anything about them. My proposal, and this is something that I have all the resources available to accomplish, is to bring in a new rogue to the city that would chip away at their credibility and make a scene.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Piggot said.

“Be that as it may, it is out of your control,” he said. “I just want to show you the cards before I play them so that you’re fully aware of what’s going to be happening in our fair city.”

“Thomas,” she said, a warning tone in her voice.

He grinned. “I called in some favours.” too damned many. “Mouse Protector is coming to Brockton Bay for a little while. I expect her to clash quite heavily with the Brat Brigade.”

Piggot rested her face in a fat palm. “And how do you expect their meeting to end?” she asked.

“Oh, no worries. I’ll make sure that Miss Protector is... informed of all the pertinent information regarding our situation.”

In the timeline that he was going to cut off, Thomas’ hand was slamming into the arm of his throne-like chair. “Hah! They will see! They will all see what it’s like to be humiliated! Muah! Muaha! Muahahahaha!”

His guards ran into the room, then froze at the sight of him, head tilted way back, and peels of cruel laughter escaping him as he reveled in his own cruelty.