There were, I noted, three traps. Two had the barbed needles. The other had something like a spring-coiled version of the claw-lash that Precipice had stolen. All three had been demolished. Foil’s power, it looked like, stabbed through and fusing to the internal components, before the shelf or drawer was removed.

“Fuck me, being a villain pays,” Precipice said.

“It really does,” Chastity said, winking at him.

“There are villains who build rep by doing something big,” I said. “Go after a big hero and win, pull off a major job. They have ups and downs, but the ups are big. The Undersiders are an example.”

“Fair,” Parian said. She was in the kitchen, rooting through cabinets. There were bricks of drugs wrapped in plastic, most no bigger than a clenched fist.

“Heartbreaker would be one of those,” Chastity said. She packed up the cash, filling bags. Precipice went to help her. “He had some low lows.”

“Yeah,” I answered. “The other kind of rep is the kind that comes with the record. Having done fifty jobs and not having any losses under your belt. Lord of Loss is one of those. He doesn’t take big jobs, but he doesn’t have anything he’s done that counts as a fuck up.”

“Why not make him fuck up?” Aroa asked.

“Because not everyone can make people do things, hon,” Chastity said. “We’re kind of unique because most of us can do that.”

“Some heroes specialize in that,” I told Aroa. “Mouse Protector was an early one that I think stuck in people’s memories. Ruining perfect records, humiliating villains, knocking them down a peg. Making their reputation the thing that gets hurt. She was a good one.”

“Dead?” Candy asked. I couldn’t even see where she was.

“Disappeared… for a good while. Turned out the Slaughterhouse Nine got her.”

“Love Lost has that reputation. She’s good,” Precipice said. “Commands more pay, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah. Are we taking all of this?”

“Free money,” Candy said, peering over the pile of cash to look at me. “And I finally get to try… cocaine?”

“Something opiate,” Chastity said. “The plastic isn’t like our plastic, either.”

“I get to try opium!”

I looked at Parian, who shook her head.

“Don’t take the bait,” she said. She was using a roll of cloth at her back as an overlarge arm, raising herself up, moving around, and checking cabinets. She was finding a good quantity of stuff that had been stored on top shelves, all the way at the back.

Taking the cash and taking the drugs was a way of gutting Love Lost’s revenue stream.

I backed off, pulling up the disc to check the status of the other groups.

Bodies in pieces. It still made my heart skip a beat.

It was… oddly intense, as far as distortion went. Why?