Taylor wasn’t a very cool girl. She knew it, had the proof smeared in her face a whole lot at school, and had grown to accept the fact that she was just not ‘cool’ like some of the other girls around her.

Her sisters seemed to disagree, but always while failing to meet her eyes. Except for Cheshire, who was brutal with her honesty.

Still, Taylor could recognize a cool place when she saw it. Usually it was a place where she wasn’t.

The Palanquin was a cool place. The building had once been a theater way back when, with a huge brick facade and a large marquee out front. That had been replaced with a simpler front; still bricks, but now there were modern stainless steel pillars rising out of the ground to hold up a far simpler roof over the entrance. The windows were bricked up, but it was done in such a way that it left her wanting to know what was inside.

The two burly bouncers by the front doors, both in tailored suits, made the place feel exclusive and dangerous. Even the sign with the name, just the letters cut out of simple steel in large blocky letters, betrayed a sense of... ‘screw you, this is our place.’

Taylor assumed that she would have the right words to describe it all if she were also cool.

She licked her lips, made sure that she had five little sisters around her, and then crossed the street. The bit of jaywalking she did was hopefully the only crime she was committing that day.

The two men by the door tensed up a little. Sure, Taylor was a teen and her sisters were... little, but they were all in costume, which meant that they were, on some level, dangerous. She smacked Cheshire’s hand out of her nose. “I, ah, we have an appointment?” she asked.

This was it, the moment she learned if one of her plans had panned out.

The man nodded. “Come on in,” he said as he opened the door.

She expected loud bass and some impossibly chaotic music, but was surprised to hear smooth jazz being played just loud enough to be heard over the background. The lights were on, allowing her to see the hardwood dance floor and the raised areas all around it where chairs and tables were waiting for clients.

A bar at the back sat unoccupied, but she could imagine two or three well-dressed bartenders working the taps. Or whatever it was bartenders did.

Her target, her client, was sitting at a table off to one side, nursing a glass of clear liquid and ice while talking to someone she had been meaning to meet. He was a simple enough looking man, with a receding hairline and a crooked nose as if he had never healed right from a blow to the face.

The woman next to him had her entire face covered by a welder’s mask, eyes almost impossible to see behind the dark tint of her visor.

“Behave,” Taylor warned her sisters as she brought them all to the table. “Hello,” she said.

What followed was a weak chorus of shy ‘hi’s and boisterous ‘hey’s’ and one ‘Konnichiwa.’

“Girls,” Taylor said, “why don’t you take a seat at that table over there?” She pointed to a table only a few steps away. A few of her sisters listened right away, but Crochet looked up to her with a look of distress.

“Big Sis, I need the little girl’s room.”

Taylor missed the days where she could make an entrance, then remembered that those days never existed. “Fine, but don’t go alone,” she said. Then she had to choose a sister to go with her which was an entire fiasco before she noticed Cheshire’s legs bouncing. “Chesh, do you need the bathroom?”

“No,” Cheshire said too quickly.

Taylor sighed. “Go with Crochet.” She turned to the two adults who were staring at her, Faultline with her expression quite literally masked and the man with a genial smile on his face.

“I have two daughters and a son,” he said by way of explanation. “I know what it’s like.”

Taylor sagged a little. “Oh, good. Um, my name is Big Sister, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said before extending a hand to shake, then lowering it. “Ah, you’re not a parahuman, right?” she asked. She already had a gurgling weight in the pit of her stomach, she didn’t need a disaster to happen.

“I’m not,” he said. “Is that an issue?”

Taylor shook her head and brought her hand up. “I’m a Trump. My power only works when I touch a parahuman, but I can’t really turn it off. Hence the question.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Fair enough,” he said as he shook. “I’m Martin, Martin Anderson from Anderson-Jacques Advertising. We’re the biggest pro-parahuman advertising firm on the East Coast, but I suspect you did your research.”

“I did,” Taylor said before turning to Faultline. She nodded to the woman and got a nod in return.

“Hello, I’m Faultline,” the woman said, her voice much smoother than Taylor expected. “Pleasure to meet you. Though you are paying me for the opportunity.”

“I am,” Taylor said. “Right, let’s get straight to business then?” She pulled a seat back and sat down, then checked on her sisters. Three of them were sitting at their own table, Remedy playing with the little potted plant in the middle of the table, Tattletail looking her way, and Pop sitting stock-still on her seat. Her other two sisters were... talking to a girl Taylor recognized from her research into Faultline’s crew. “Right, well, we, that is, my sisters and I, need work. We only have so many hours we can give you a day, we have a curfew, and we need to be paid very well.”

Martin’s eyebrows shot up. “Quite the difficult employees,” he said.

“No,” Faultline disagreed. “They’re parahumans, those requirements are actually pretty straightforward.”

Taylor nodded, suddenly very glad she had hired the woman to act as a consultant, even if it meant she would be leaving entirely penniless. All the stipulations she had would be tossed out of the window if it meant enough money being sent her way, but she couldn’t let that show. “We would also prefer work that isn’t violent,” Taylor added.

“I see. Well, to be frank, your team is quite honestly a golden opportunity. Put any one of them in a mascot costume and people would flock to them on social media. Have them show up for a little show before any store and I can almost guarantee the store would make up any capital spent on advertising within the hour. One product endorsement by a girl as cute as your sisters could be worth a fortune if marketed properly. Not to mention the branding.”

“Um,” Taylor said. “That sounds like a lot of good things?” she said.

Martin grinned. “Let’s face it, I could hardball you, but you wouldn’t appreciate it and there are other firms out there. The sooner I can get you and your sisters out there working for us the sooner I can get a leg up on the competition. Do you know how restrictive Wards advertising is because of the Youth Guard?”

Taylor frowned a little at that. “If you try anything that hurts my sisters you won’t have to deal with some mildly annoyed soccer moms. You’ll have me at your front door the same day.”

Martin backed up, arms raised in front of him while Faultline chuckled darkly. “I think I like you, kid,” she said. “There’s some rogue work too out there, especially within Brockton Bay. The Boardwalk has tried to hire us a few times. I’ll leave you with some phone numbers, if you want them.”

“Really?” Taylor asked.

Faultline shrugged. “You can still do advertising, right, Mister Anderson?”

“Of course. Two birds with one stone. The presence of... six? Parahumans at one location and time would deter just about every gang in existence. Though we can’t sell it as guard duty I’m afraid, merely... on-location advertising stunts.”

“When could we start?” Taylor asked.

Martin blinked at that. “Tomorrow? Maybe Monday? The iron is hot. Your group is all over the media. For twenty percent of the profits we can cover all the legal side of things. You show up, follow basic instructions and get paid the next day. Banking holidays and such notwithstanding.”

Taylor nodded. “And you mentioned merchandising?” She felt a little sleazy about that. But it would also mean that she and her sisters got to eat which was a whole order of magnitude more important.

Martin looked ready to start when he paused and looked to Taylor’s side.

She turned and found Cheshire and Crochet flanking a dreamy eyed girl. “You seem like such a nice bigger sister,” the girl said. She reached up and patted Taylor on the head. “So nice.”

Taylor was looking for something to say when the world lurched. “Oh no,” she said.

Her stomach twisted, her world went hazy. A new sister was coming, and she was coming now.