The warehouse was dark, cluttered, and gave Vertigo the twitchy feeling he usually associated with an impending ambush. The unsmiling guards that escorted him and Commander inside were carrying guns almost as good as the ones Commander managed to equip his people with. This Chief was clearly making a statement about his wealth and power, and his capabilities, underscored by the fact that no one had bothered to search them for weapons, much less confiscate anything.

Left to cool their heels for a while in a small room, Vertigo paced impatiently. “What are we waiting for?” he growled. “You'd think they'd be on time for their own damn meeting...”

Commander swatted the back of his head. “Shut up, idiot, and sit down. You can't recognize a power play when you see one?”

Vertigo shut up. He fidgeted, silently. Among the things that made him uncomfortable and itchy, diplomacy was near the top of the list. Bliss had been an obvious no-go, and Vertigo had been the one who caused most of the damage, so Commander had ordered him along as second in order to “have flexible strategy options,” whatever the hell that meant.

By the time someone came to retrieve them he was more than willing to give this Chief a piece of his mind, but he knew what Commander's reaction would be if he spoke out of turn. They followed the two guards down a long wooden hallway to a heavy, solitary door at the end. In a well-practiced motion one swung the door open and they assumed a resting position, one on either side.

The room was darker than the well-lit hallway, impossible to see inside from their position, and Vertigo gritted his teeth. The situation was giving him a very, very bad feeling, but Commander seemed as cool and unruffled and ever. Together, they stepped forward, Vertigo a pace behind in his accustomed place at Commander's left elbow.

The room was enormous. It had clearly started life as the main storage area for the building, and was for the most part only dimly lit by the lamp fixtures that hung from the ceiling beams. Most of them were concentrated at the large chair at the end of the vast room, and the woman draped over it, one booted foot dangling over an armrest. Vertigo barely repressed a snort at the theatrics, but he felt Commander stiffen beside him.

The other man strode across the floor, his boots echoing on the concrete, and Vertigo scrambled to follow. “Yolanda.” Commander never raised his voice but still managed to make it carry to all corners of the room. The guards in the room flinched reflexively, but the woman ignored the familiarity and lack of title.

The woman in the chair smiled humorlessly without showing her teeth, sharp and feral. She tilted her head and raked them over with a cool, appraising glance. “Commander. So nice to see you again.” The tone of her words indicated that it was anything but. The midnight hue of her hair matched her skin, the hair secured tightly to her head in dreadlocks bound into a neat ponytail at the nape of her neck. She wore an archaic military-styled dark blue coat with tails, and white pants without a single spot of dust on them anywhere. Vertigo had never seen her before.

“Commander,” he hissed, but neither paid him any attention. They locked stares for a moment, silently.

Yolanda broke the standoff first. She pulled an ornate silver case from her breast pocket, selected a cigarette from it, and glanced into the shadows. A beautiful woman with long, free-flowing red hair and a complexion so creamy-pale it was a little disturbing approached. Yolanda held up her white-gloved hand with the cigarette and the pale redhead ignited it with a theatrical snap of her fingers.

“Thank you, darling,” Yolanda purred, pulling the redhead down for a kiss. The other woman retreated. Smoke curled into the air and Vertigo resisted the urge to cough. Yolanda drew a long inhale from her cigarette, then glanced up at Commander. The height difference didn't seem to faze her; she behaved as though she had complete control of the situation.

“Is this what I taught you?” Commander demanded coldly before she had a chance to speak. “Human trafficking? Kidnapping? Slaves?”

Yolanda raised an eyebrow at him, straightened in her chair, and flicked her left hand imperiously. “Out.” Her minions hesitated and her eyes narrowed, brows knitting together. “Out!” The guards scattered; her redheaded assistant lingered.

“Is this how you're doing business now?” Yolanda countered. “You just rush in and burn my property to the ground?” She looked at the redhead, who was now holding a piece of paper. “Dominique?”

“Twenty-five guards dead or injured,” Dominique read. A pause and a glance at Vertigo. “Near total destruction of Warehouse C by fire.” She cleared her throat and continued. “Complete loss of stored personal property and weapons. Sixty-three trade items escaped or killed.”

“Trade items?” Commander exploded furiously.

At the same time Vertigo interjected, “You took Bliss!”

Yolanda regarded him for the first time, resting her flat dark eyes on him, and a chill ran down his spine at that empty stare. “You have something to say, soldier?”

Her curt address set his teeth on edge but he hesitated, half expecting Commander to tell him to shut up again. Strangely enough, the other man remained silent. “One of the girls you nabbed was one of ours,” he snapped, meeting Yolanda's challenge head on with a bravado partially fueled by irritation at her petty power games. “It's not our fault you didn't want to give her back.”

Her heavy-lidded gaze remained locked on his. “You show admirable loyalty toward your friends,” she drawled, her tone so dry he couldn't tell whether it was sarcasm or not. “I'm sure you didn't learn that from Commander.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Vertigo demanded, tensing. He felt a hot snap behind his eyes and just barely leashed the flame that threatened to spring from his hands.

Unruffled, Yolanda glanced to Commander again. “Still teaching your poor naive followers well, I see.”

Commander reached up and slowly, deliberately removed his sunglasses, his expression stormy. When he spoke, his voice was heavy and rough. “Entirely too well, in some cases.”

“There are some things I didn't learn from you,” Yolanda purred. “But that's not what we're here to talk about. I'm giving you a chance to make reparations for the damage you've caused me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Otherwise, I can produce compelling evidence that you were the one ultimately running the slave trade out of that warehouse, and the fire was a botched attempt to keep it under wraps.” She shrugged. “I'm not sure your reputation can handle that.... are you?”

Commander folded his arms, slipping his glasses into his breast pocket. His face, even without the dark glasses, was now unreadable. “What do you want?” Against Vertigo's expectations, he expressed no doubt that she could do what she said.

Arching one delicate eyebrow, she glanced over at Vertigo. “Full cost of the damages and repairs, plus forty percent, or two of your Talents transferred to my service. Him, and one other of your choice.”

“What? Hey!” Vertigo protested.

Both ignored him. Commander remained unmoved. “My men aren't for sale or trade. They're not your chattel.”

A humorless chuckle escaped Yolanda. “Still discounting the ladies, are you?”

“You know what I meant!” Commander snapped. Vertigo blinked. He so rarely saw Commander unsettled or with less than perfect control, and a tendril of unease curled through him.

Yolanda smiled again, as if she had already won. “Why don't I give you a little bit of time to consider my offer before I take what I have to the authorities. I'm sure neither of us want to make this overly complicated.”

Disliking her even more, Vertigo's jaw clenched. There was no way Commander was going to give her anything she wanted, and he expected him to come right out and tell her that. Instead, Commander just stared at her, tight-lipped. “Let's discuss. Alone.”

Vertigo couldn't control himself any longer. “Commander, what the hell? She wants you to trade us like we're some piece of tech you found?”

“Shut it,” Commander growled.

“Commander-”

“Do as you're told.”

In a huff Vertigo strode for the door, ready to plow right through the guards outside. Before he got there, Dominique the redhead appeared at his side as though invited.

“Our leaders seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I'd like to offer you a drink and apologize, set things straight.” She tilted her head at him, catlike green eyes catching the light.

Vertigo hesitated. He didn't trust her even a little, but the prospect of interacting with other strong Talents always made him curious. Strong ones were so rare as it was, and the ones he usually came across were typically on the wrong side for a civil discussion.

As if sensing his indecision, she favored him with what was probably supposed to be an endearing smile but ended up as more of a smirk. “I can promise you a real drink instead of the swill most places here pass off as liquor.”

Making a snap decision – after all, they were here to gather intel - he barked, “Fine,” and made a sarcastic gesture for her to lead the way. “Make it vodka, and you've got a deal.”

Dominique poured their drinks in much the same way she did everything else; confidently, as if she owned the place. The unused office was apparently still in use as a liquor cabinet, for she selected a bottle from a crowded shelf and poured clear liquid into two glasses. He eyed the glass she placed in front of him as suspiciously as he had the room and she smiled easily and drank first. He sipped, wheezed a little at the burn (it was indeed the good stuff), and demanded, “Start talking.” 

She spread her hands innocently, placing them to either side of her glass on the table. “What do you want to know? I'm an open book.” She actually batted her lashes at him.

Vertigo snorted and knocked back about half of the very generous pour. “How about we start with how Commander and this Yolanda apparently know each other.” In his entire lifetime with Commander he'd never seen or even heard talk of her.

“The Chief-” she put extra emphasis on the title- “and your Commander used to work together. She was his second and star student. She helped him get your organization to where it is today, and then he abandoned her, left her to fend for herself in Asapaco alone, without any warning.”

That same feeling of unease kindled in his stomach. He swallowed the rest of the alcohol to drown it. “That doesn't sound like Commander.”

Dominique shrugged, elegantly, with one bare shoulder. “Ask him yourself. I've never known the Chief to lie.”

Glass met wood with a loud bang as he slammed his empty cup down. “Commander's no liar, either.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, the sooty black makeup lining them making her look fierce. “Perhaps you weren't given the entire story. Or any of the story, considering you had to ask me about it.” Picking up her glass, she downed the entire thing with no visible reaction, then slowly, deliberately, licked a drop off her upper lip with a pointed pink tongue. It was all Vertigo could do to keep from rolling his eyes at her; instead, he gazed meaningfully down at his empty glass.

In one smooth motion Dominique stood and slithered over to the desk she was using as a bar, returning after a moment with two fresh shots and the bottle. Vertigo swallowed his immediately; she ignored her own, instead pulling out a small silver case much like Yolanda's and removing a fragrant cigarette. Vertigo shook his head as she offered him the open case and she shrugged, clicking it shut. Less flashy than she had been the first time, she didn't spark a visible flame. Smoke simply curled from the tip as she held it, and he breathed in the scent of dark resin and sweet spice instead of tobacco.

Dominique caught his curious glance. She smirked slightly and flicked ash. “From what I hear, you're more than familiar with fire powers.”

Vertigo looked down, clenching his hands around the cool glass and refraining from mentioning that he'd never be able to manage such fine control. What he really wanted to ask her about was how she'd learned it; how she had discovered her powers, how she felt about them, whether or not she occasionally worried about them spiraling out of control. Smart enough to realize that such questioning would make him look weak, or at best ignorant, he kept his mouth shut.

“The Chief's taught me all sorts of tricks,” she continued.

Vertigo still refused to respond.

Dominique sighed, knocked back her own shot, and sucked a long inhale through her cigarette. She exhaled smoke through her nose like a dragon, then narrowed her eyes at him in a penetrating stare. “Okay, we'll get down to business then. Whatever Commander's paying you, we'll triple it. Not to mention the other perks.”

Vertigo chuckled and stood up from the table. “Not interested.”

She caught at his arm, leaning forward intently. “Think about it. You could have real potential, really go somewhere, instead of being stuck in a dead-end little band of sell-swords and marauders. We're building an empire from the ground up and we're offering you the opportunity to be a part of that.”

“Get your damn hands off me.” He shook her loose, glaring at her in offense. “I don't care about your stupid empire, and I don't care about your money. Commander's my family, and I'm not gonna betray him like that.”

A small huff much like a laugh escaped her. “So just like that, huh?” He wanted to wipe that insufferable smile off her face.

“Yeah, like that.”

“Nothing we could offer you would change your mind.”

Vertigo snorted. “What, you would let someone buy your loyalty away from... your Chief?”

This time Dominique did laugh. “Are you kidding me? For the right price, absolutely, and she knows it.” Her lips curved into a genuine smile. “Luckily for both of us, no one is willing to offer that much.” Nodding at the chair across from her, she continued, “Sit down. Let me tell you a story.”

Despite himself Vertigo sat, drawn by curiosity. Dominique took a long breath of smoke and glanced up at the ceiling as she exhaled slowly, as though trying to work out how to begin.

“I was a whore,” she said bluntly. Still gazing off into the distance, she said it as calmly as though she were discussing the weather. “First on the streets, and then for some madam who recognized my potential. I always knew I was different, much like I suspect you did.” Here she shifted her gaze to meet his directly. “Did you know there are a lot of people who will pay extra to fuck a Talent?”

Vertigo shifted uncomfortably, recalling overheard camp talk, and made no response.

Dominique took a swallow of her drink. “Bitch made me do tricks sometimes with my fire. Put me on display like a fucking freak.” Intentional or not, her accent slipped slightly toward gutter speech. If it was an act, it was a good one. “Loads of johns get off on the power trip, fucking a girl who could kill you easily but she can't do anything about it.” Candid green eyes held his and Vertigo found that he had nothing to say.

“Despite all of that, I loved it. I had a roof over my head, regular baths, three meals a day. For the first time in my life I had a home.” Her voice dropped. “It musta been someone who thought we were making too much money, or someone for the official whores' guild. One night I'm putting on a show, doing as I'm told like a good little bitch, and the place catches fire.” She stopped, making sure he was listening. “I'm telling you, it wasn't me. Regardless, the whole building went up like cheap paper. And all those girls and that bitch-ass madam? They blamed me. Just cause I'm a Talent, and cause of all those stories about ones that can't control their powers or that go on power trips. I gave her years of my life, and she betrayed me.”

She poured them both more vodka. “Next thing I remember is huddling against the alley wall in the rain. There's a crowd of useless gawkers, and all those bitches are just piles of ash.”

Vertigo gritted his teeth, the ghosts of flames from his own memories burning around him. His heart racing, he dug his fingernails into his palms where she couldn't see.

Dominique tipped back some more alcohol. “They were gonna execute me. No questions asked, no trial. Everyone saw me roast those fuckers. Didn't matter the circumstances. The Chief – Yolanda – she bought off my sentence. Gave me real work and a place to live. Once she found she could trust me, she started giving me more influence. She taught me about my powers, how to really use them.” A small tongue of flame danced back and forth over her fingers. “We're going to burn the corruption out of this city. Build a place where Talents get respect, not fear, where girls like me don't have to whore themselves just to survive, where we're not abused and killed just for being powerful.”

“Yeah, and what about your slaves, then?” Vertigo's gesture encompassed the warehouse, and he didn't even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “How's that building a better city?”

“I know it's not ideal.” Her expression was grim. “But change doesn't come cheap. We need the money. We've vetted all the buyers, and they'll be treated well.”

“Yeah, I bet that'll make it all better for them, won't it.” Vertigo snorted and stood up, shoving his chair back. “I bet they'll be all understanding and lovey once you explain all that to them. Thanks but no thanks. I don't want shit to do with you.”

She rose to join him. “I apologize for wasting your time then. If you happen to change your mind, ask after me at the Rose & Thorn in the south district. Name your price, and we'll make your dreams come true.” Winking at him, she gestured for him to follow her.

Vertigo considered, and after a moment took the liberty of pouring himself one more shot, swallowing the fiery liquid before stalking after her. His slouching posture indicating his level of apathy toward his new friend, he followed her back toward the ridiculous mock throne room. The latch handle wouldn't budge, and one of the guards outside dropped his weapon into place across the door to stop him trying again.

“C'mon, seriously?” Vertigo half whined.

“Chief's still doing business,” the other one responded. “Locked door means no one goes in till she's done.”

“Yeah,” he huffed, “and I'm part of that business. Well. Sort of.” He looked around for Dominique to back him up, and found that she'd disappeared at some point. He gave up, leaning against the wall and sulking. Eventually the door opened and he started upright. Commander stalked out, his sunglasses returned to their rightful place and what Vertigo could tell was an absolutely furious expression underneath. He didn't even stop to acknowledge Vertigo, leaving Vertigo to have to scramble behind him a second time.

“Commander-” he started as they reached the door to the outside.

“Shut up,” Commander ordered under his breath, a tone that he often took with misbehaving junior soldiers but almost never Vertigo or his compatriots. Vertigo immediately went silent.

Commander refused to speak until they were several streets away from the compound. He turned to Vertigo, eyes serious. “I'm giving you to Yolanda.”