After finishing a few tasks for Elias, Tabby made her way to East End. It was mid-morning. She'd managed to rise early...for once. Her satchel was pulled safely in front of her and daggers were hidden everywhere she could stow them.

She made her way through Gold Spiders territory—the richest gang in Chroma. They took a cut from each manufactory owner along the Taewae to patrol the streets and ensure violence stayed to a minimum. As a result, most workers passing through went untouched and untaxed. Their bosses paid a steep price for their protection.

They'd recognize her as an outsider but wouldn't touch her. She'd made it a point to introduce herself to all of Chroma's gangs. Still, she kept her left hand close to a hidden dagger.

Nit stuck to the rooftops, pointing out constables and watchmen ahead. She spotted each of Seth Kour's manufactories. They were the largest, set side by side, butting up to the riverfront. Textiles. Chroma's biggest export ever since the invention of the mechanical loom. Each had a monstrous dock along the river.

The drone of machinery was defining. Impossible to tune out. The haze of smoke was even worse, choking her. She was tempted to remove a handkerchief and cover her nose. She clenched her teeth instead, and approached the first building. A few figures eyed her from the shadows but did not approach.

"I'm looking for Mr. Kour," she said, speaking sweetly the guards at the gate. "I'm Lizzy Weddell from the Chroma Times. I've got an interview with him." She slipped them a gold sovereign each. They glanced at each other before eying her. In her gown, she looked harmless enough, or so she hoped.

"Apologies, Miss Weddell, but Mr. Kour didn't leave no instructions to see you."

"Oh." Her face fell. "But..." She retrieved her notepad and the forged note she carried, eyeing it with drawn brows. "He was supposed to meet me at eleven." She looked up at them, lashes fluttering, offering a coy smile.

"We could always take her up to the top and hand her off to Miss Reignheart," the left one offered, cheeks growing flushed. His companion elbowed him, scowling.

"Oh, thank you. I'm sure she'll be able to sort out the confusion." She passed them a couple more coins and the guards agreed to show her up to Mr. Kour's office. They deposited her in the small waiting room outside, leaving her in his secretary's care.

Miss Reignheart's eyes narrowed behind a pair of spectacles. "Miss Weddell? Hm... Mr. Kour is in the middle of a meeting. He doesn't have you on the books." She glanced down again, frowning, as if she might have overlooked an appointment.

Tabby glanced over her shoulder. The door into the waiting room had closed, leaving them alone. The other led to Seth Kour's office. "But I've got his note here," she said, rummaging around in her bag, removing a dart. Before Miss Reignheart reacted, she leaned over her desk and stuck her with it. Miss Reignheart's eyes went wide. She was too surprised to call out before slumping over her paperwork. It would keep her down for several hours. If she had too much, it would kill her.

Tabby locked the door leading into the waiting room and summoned violet light from her choker, flicking her fingers to shove it into the cracks and around the knob, effectively sealing them in. Guards would have to break through the wood before hoping to open it. She affixed her half mask, more symbolic than anything, for the work she was about to do. Then she went to Kour's door and placed her ear against it.

"...we don't have that kind of resources at our disposal," said a voice from the other side.

Removing another dart and her blowpipe, she readied herself and tapped on the door. "What is it?!" the same voice snapped. Kour's tone said enough. He was an absolute joy to work with. She almost pitied Miss Reignheart as she threw it open. "I told you this was an—" Kour flew to his feet at the sight of her, blowpipe at her lips, and sure enough, a dagger flew straight for her. His reactions were impeccable! Impressive, even.

She didn't have time to duck or pull light. Her dart went flying with a snick, and sank deep in his neck right as his dagger plunged into her abdomen. Kour's client whipped around, jumping to his feet, eyes wide with shock. Ignoring the searing fire racing through her body, the blood seeping down her gown, she smashed her fist into the client's skull, gritting her teeth. He stumbled. His chair clattered, but no one would hear it over the drone of the manufactory equipment. Pulling the dagger from her body, ignoring the blood that gushed out with it, she sliced his throat clean open. He dropped. Her legs gave out, and she sank to the floor beside him, panting.

Her vision blackened at the edges, breathing turning rough. Well, this wasn't how she'd planned for it to go. Growing weaker by the moment, she lifted a hand and summoned white light from her ring, struggling against each breath. She pushed it into the gash. Her thoughts grew scattered, everything slowed. She moved her wrist and fingers out of instinct more than anything, guiding the light, repairing her intestines and tissue, cleaning out any filth that might cause infection, until the gash closed.

Gasping, she rolled on her side to avoid the blood pooling about Kour's client, catching her breath in deep pulls. When her strength returned, she stood. There could be no witnesses, which meant she'd have to address Miss Reignheart sleeping out in the waiting room, too.

Kour lay in a heap on the ground behind his desk. She made quick work of his clothing and personal effects before pulling him into his chair and strapping him down. She wasn't going to dispose of his body like the others. There was no possible way. Perhaps when they found him, they might think it was business related, with Kour's client laying in a pool of his own blood. The Spectrum would know soon enough, though. This would be the breadcrumb that would eventually lead them to her.

She went to the window and opened it, looking out over the street below. Nothing appeared amiss. Nit fluttered in moments later, flying about Kour's office and the waiting room, assessing the damage. She did the same. Miss Reignheart's appointment book showed Kour in his meeting for another hour with a Mr. Spechel. She glanced at Spechel's limp form. Kour had an hour free for lunch. His next client would be here in two hours. That wasn't much time—but she'd anticipated that.

She wandered around the office, looking for anything useful. She found it when she moved a bookcase aside. A hidden door that led to a back stairway. It was almost too perfect. But of course, being the apt business man that he was—replete with Spect training—why wouldn't he have a quick getaway?

"Please tell me you aren't going to kill her?" Nit fluttered about Miss Reignheart's limp form.

"I don't have a choice." She dragged Kour's client to the corner of the room, sitting him upright against the wall. Let the inspector make of it what he would. "She saw my face, Nit. As soon as the Council gets ahold of her, they will torture every detail from her then kill her anyway."

"Take her prisoner. Hand her over to Steiner."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, glancing at the secret door again. "It's too dangerous, Nit, and you know it." They both did. There was no way she could carry Miss Reignheart across an entire city without looking suspicious. Especially when she was already covered in blood. The watchmen would be shouting before she made it home.

Nit scuttled beneath the door as a beetle and posted up outside the waiting room to keep watch.

She pulled a leather case from her satchel, untied and unrolled it, bracing herself. Her shoulders and neck were tense. Beads of sweat dripped down her skin as she studied the man before her. Waste. A sneer pulled at her lips. How many people had he killed? How many lives had he snuffed out for the sake of the Spectrum?

She dug around in her satchel again. A collection of his prisms were now safely tucked within. Six—two yellows and four greens. A tetrachrom, just like Beast. She pushed them around inside, removing a handful of neatly labeled vials of liquid. Burning Spine, Craze, Devine Spite. She'd carefully selected these from her stores, knowing what she had to do. She also removed a packet of smelling salts. Before shoving them beneath Waste's nose, she sent violet light to blanket the walls and door to hide his screams. Even with the overpowering drum of equipment shaking the building, she could take no chances.

Waste jerked awake, immediately flexing against his bonds, trying to scoot his chair away. She clicked her tongue and picked up his dagger, keeping her own hidden and unused.

"Tempest!" he hissed. "How dare you?!" He jerked again, glancing down at his naked body. Then he laughed. "It was you, wasn't it? Beast went missing. No one could find his body."

"Guilty as charged," she said, shrugging, fiddling with his dagger.

"Why? Our assignment? You'd rather hunt us down than eliminate Prince Albert?"

It was her turn to laugh. "Prince Albert would be easier compared to you lot." She stopped fiddling and shoved the dagger into his shoulder, felt his flesh give beneath it before twisting.

He sucked a breath in through clenched teeth, but didn't scream. Panting, he said, "Torture is your game, then? I should have known." She twisted again. He didn't so much as flinch, gazing at her with hard eyes, jaded eyes. She had to admire him for it. "How did you find me?" he asked.

"You think I'd tell? I don't have time for a story like that. I want names, Mr. Kour, the identities of everyone on the council. Ghost, Sin, Deadlock, Flint, Reaper, Rampage. Tell me what names they go by?"

His laugh was a dark rumble, the sound of psychopath. "I won't break so easily, girl." That much was clear. "Someone will come for me before then." He nodded towards the door.

He was right. Any minute, someone might try the door to the waiting room. She pulled out the dagger and healed him. After her own wound, it took the rest of what her ring had left.

He watched, open-mouthed. "So it is possible? White light?" His laugh was rough. "Well, you might actually stand a chance. What's your purpose then? Seize power for yourself? Kill Ghost and plant yourself as High Mask?"

"That would be your conclusion." She snorted, amused. "Names. Give them."

His lips curled. "Try harder." It was a challenge.

"Very well." She uncorked a vial of Craze—the most powerful hallucinogen she'd ever encountered—and pried his mouth open, dumping the contents down his throat. Since they were short on time, she paired it with Burning Spine. It would kill him in an hour or less. A risk she had to take. But the pain—worse than anything she could do in such a short span—would make him talk. He fought against her until she blanketed him in green light and froze him in place. It was fitting, to use his own color against him.

He hissed and grumbled, but she didn't free up his nose until he'd swallowed. "I can wait," she added, releasing the green that held him, and moved to the window. It wouldn't be long. She gazed outside.

"Company," Nit warned. The sound of a rattling lock pulled her away from Mr. Kour, towards the waiting room door. Deep, questioning voices sounded on the other side. "Three guards," Nit added.

She rushed back into the other room, to her satchel. She had a handful of darts left. She grabbed a couple and readied her weapons. "Mr. Kour!" The pounding on the door increased.

"Just a moment," she called, trying to sound like Miss Reignheart. She removed her protective barrier and took a deep breath, stepping out of sight as she opened the door. Three guards barreled in. She slammed the door closed behind then, barred it with more light and darted the first two within moments.

They took one look at Miss Reignheart and whirled on her. She lunged for the third, plunging her dagger deep in his gut. He doubled over as the other two dropped unconscious to the floor. He charged at her. In such a small space, she had nowhere to go. His head collided with with her stomach, sending the air from her lungs. She used the opportunity to slit his throat. She took care of the others moments later.

"All clear," she said, grunting under the weight of the bodies as she pulled them to the side of the room. Then she returned to Waste.

"Impressive," he said, slurring his words. He'd watched through the doorway. She didn't miss the sarcasm in his voice. His head nodded and jerked. The initial effects of the poison were showing, but it would take a few minutes more. She went back to the window, assessing the street below. All clear.

Midnight had used Craze on her once, when she was nineteen. An exercise, he claimed, to see what it was like. She was in a ball on the floor for hours as everything around her morphed into something from her nightmares. His safehouse turned into a bloodied mess. All the faces she'd ever killed sprouted horrific, monstrous bodies and came for her.

Clora came too, more real than ever before. The dagger Reaper had plunged into her chest was still there, a reminder, protruding for all to see. It rose and fell with Clora's breathing as she gazed down on Tabby, contempt heavy on her face. Blood stained her clothes and dripped from the corner of her mouth, the place where it had leaked out as she breathed her final, dying breaths. "You're just like them," Clora had hissed, sneering. "A monster. You will always be a monster." In those moments, Clora had gone from her only friend, the only person who'd ever understood her, to hating her. But Tabby deserved her hate, her contempt, because she'd failed her.

In those crazed moments, she realized Clora was right. No one ever started like this. They were made—every one of them. The difference was, when given the chance, Clora had chosen death over something much worse. Tabby had been too weak for it. And until that moment, laying in her crazed state, she had always teetered between two sides, with flags and weapons that looked the same. One bathed in truth the other, lies. And both were calling her name.

But she'd made her choice. Perhaps much earlier than she had realized. It took seeing Clora like this to make it plain. She could not go back—could never go back. It was too late for that. She was lost.

But perhaps...not anymore.

Every Spect deserved to confront the demons of their past. Deserved punishment for what they'd done. Especially before death. Who was she to say they'd face anything afterward?

She glanced at Waste and wondered, what would he see? The poison was working when his breathing heightened and his eyes went extraordinarily wide. He began whimpering, fighting against his bonds, jerking his head about as he beheld unseen horrors. The color had drained from his face. His mind was under attack. And his spine seized up, sending him into convulsions.

She began her questioning then, unsure of whose form she took as she pried his fingernails off and listened to his screams. Was she friend or enemy? He trembled as he beheld her—a monster, then. Fitting. Because that's exactly what she really was.

He didn't last long. He gave Chester Bates and Daunte Saunders up first, swearing that he knew no others. She wanted to believe him—she really did—but she knew better. Foam spilled from his mouth as he sputtered and screamed. She had minutes left—if that. She ripped his ear off, slicing at it with a serrated blade. "I know those names already," she said. "Give me the others." Her voice was a hiss as she fought against the revulsion forming in her stomach. "You have more. Give them and this will all end."

He cried then, blubbering. "Please! End it! End it!"

It was a hollow victory, but a victory nonetheless. How easily he'd been shattered with the right...force.

"It will all be over soon," she cooed, caressing the side of his face. "Tell me their names."

"Okay. Okay." He gasped, crying. She ceremoniously wiped away his tears, crouching in front of him, eye to eye. Intent. "There's...there's...Fe...Felix," he gasped, shuddering. A convulsion took him. "Felix...Lane." The name came reluctantly.

"Felix Lane?" She stiffened, jerking to her feet, standing to look down at him. Shattered men didn't lie. But they also couldn't be trusted. "Who is Felix Lane?" When he didn't answer, she gripped his hair in her fist, and wrenched his head back, giving him a rough shake? "Who? Reaper? Deadlock?"

"Felix...Lane," he said again, this time barely a whisper. Then his body went limp and his life fled. She cursed, throwing his head forward. It could have been any name. It could have been the name of an acquaintance, or some nobody off the street.

She let out an angry groan, kicking the leg of his chair. Fucking hell! She should have waited to use Burning Spine. But her time was up.

"We need to go." Nit's voice grounded her. She glanced about, like coming out of a trance as her awareness heightened. There was blood everywhere, splattered across Waste's desk, smeared across the floor where her boots had tracked it about. A bloody horror of a nightmare was what it was.

She cursed again and cleaned up her belongings as Nit scuttled back under the door. A knock sounded from outside. She froze, glancing at Miss Reignheart. If she allowed the woman to live, they might pin this on her as Mr. Kour's secretary. The Spectrum would make whatever assumptions it wanted. And Tabby couldn't carry her body anywhere. She had the vial of Devine Spite, but Miss Reignheart didn't deserve that kind of suffering. She pulled two more sedative darts from her bag and injected them—too much for the female's small form. At least she'd die sleeping, peaceful, as her heart stopped. She could give the woman that much. The knocking on the door turned to pounding. Gads! What a nuisance.

Giving the room a final glance, making sure there was nothing that would lead anyone directly to her, she departed through the secret door. From behind it, she used light to drag the shelves back into place. Then she released the color blanketing the walls and doors. She stayed, hidden in the darkness long enough to listen to the cries on the other side. Satisfied, she descended the staircase, cloaking herself in shadows, fighting the accompanying migrane that signaled light sickness, and fled the manufactory. The effects of her black prism were only as good as the darkness available, so she stuck to alleys and shadows of tall buildings. She didn't release herself until she reached Crock's Row, not even when her temples were pounding. Then she doubled over and spilled her guts all over the dirt behind Elias's shop.