"So, is this about my reward, or is this an invitation to be your third? Is that my reward? Look I get it, I'd wanna fuck me if I wasn't me. But I'm going to have to decline your advances politely. I'd hate to ruin the friendship we've all built up." Tuesday said.

Vivienne blinks, too stunned to speak.

"You're saying my job's on the line? Please, don't do this. I need this job to feed my family. Okay, okay, stop shouting at me. I'll do it," Tuesday sniffled, starting to pull her hoodie off.

"Cut it out, Tuesday," I said.

She stops stripping, but at this point, we can both see her bra and bare stomach. It's covered in scars, and there's a mark in the center of her stomach, below her breasts, and above her belly button. It's a brand. Someone branded her like livestock. Who? It's shaped like a Ferris wheel, enclosed by four thick lines that form a box. What symbol is that? I have to remember to look it up later. I look at Vivienne and shake my head to stop her from bringing it up. Tuesday lowers her hoodie and frowns.

"Damn it, I thought we were doing some CNC roleplay. Fine, what's the reason for the meeting?"

"Since joining us, you have followed my orders and respected our rules. Every mission I've given you has been completed professionally. Or at least what passes for professionalism from you. Regardless, you have proven your worth and loyalty to the group's plans. It's time to reward you, and I have the perfect thing in mind. I'd like to offer you a second ability," I said.

Vivienne is holding it in, but she isn't happy at all. Her jaw is locked, preventing her from saying something. You might be my second-in-command, but I don't need your permission. She's taking this harder than I thought she would. She's already decided that Tuesday is guilty and is waiting for her to make a mistake. She's so irritated she can't even muster a word.

"Really? What were you thinking?" Tuesday asked.

"I have one in mind, and I think you'll like it."

It's a toss-up between Punch and Jeremy's power, not because of any potential power synergies or long-term plans, but because they are both associated with extremely negative personality pieces. Punch's aggression is only going to keep rearing its head, and maybe next time, I won't break Todd's arm. Maybe I'll kill him.

Jeremy's voyeuristic deviancy and libido are particularly obtrusive. Attractiveness is something that I can understand and process because it is quantifiable. But I did not have the urge to act upon it until his pieces started changing me. Sex is an activity that I can physically engage in, but not because of a desire to. It has to be this one. People can forgive me for getting in a fight, but not for being a creep.

I offer my hand to Tuesday, and she slides her sleeve up to grasp it. Her arms are similarly covered in long-healed knife wounds and burn marks. The transfer starts, and she's giggling. This will undoubtedly make her less acceptable quirks worse, but if it's her or me, it'll always be her. The reward will also help her want to continue listening to me. The five minutes pass by quickly, and I see her eyes rolling back through the holes in her bunny mask.

"Thank you. This is that rapist's power right: the peeping tom? I hunted him, showed him such pleasurable pain, then killed him, and now I have his power. It's romantic. It's so sexy. God, I'm getting all hot and bothered. I feel like I owe you a throat stroke for that one. What about you, V? You want front-row tickets to the blow show? Or perhaps you'd like me to give you an Australian kiss?" Tuesday asked.

"Fuck off," Vivienne said, slamming the table and storming out of the room.

"If you keep pushing her, she is going to swing eventually, and you would not survive a punch," I said.

"Then it's a good thing I'm flexible. Is there anything else, or am I allowed to go try out my new toy?" Tuesday asked.

"What is that mark on your chest?"

The vibe in the room changes immediately at my question, and Tuesday freezes for a second. She slouches back in her chair and takes her mask off. Her smile is gone, and her gaze looks distant. The bravado and court jester flair is gone, revealing a woman who looks small, so very small. Is this the real Tuesday?

"Every one of us has secrets, things we don't want to talk about. This is that for me. Please. Pretend you didn't see it, and don't ask me again. I like it here; it's fun, and it won't be fun anymore if you ask me," Tuesday said, her real voice raw and painful.

I have a choice to make here. Do I push her into telling me? She'll probably tell me the truth if I ask again. It would change our relationship, possibly even fracture it beyond repair. This might end up biting me in the ass, but I still need her. Maybe if I still had Erisate's curiosity, I would force the subject, but I don't, so I won't.

"Alright, I won't mention it again. But I need to know now if this is going to be a problem," I said.

"It won't. It's in the past and best forgotten."

"Then the matter is settled. You're free to experiment. I need to see Isaiah and Kai. Whichever you see first, send them up," I said, dismissing her.

"Gotcha," she said, grabbing her mask.

She skips out of the room, her chipper and flighty persona back in place. Rorschach will find them; it's only a matter of time. My plan needs to be ready by then.

A knock at the door brings my attention back to earth. Kai walks in, looking nervous despite his best effort to hide it. The lack of vibrancy in his outfits, his faded and unkempt hair, and the lack of progress in the base lead me toward only one possibility. Diminish's anhedonia has affected him even worse than it did me. I broke the man, trapped him in a cage of depression, and then ignored the signs right in front of me. An overwhelming urge to do something, to fix what I've done, fills me to my core. I did this to him, and I have to make it right. Helping Kai will begin with honesty.

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"Thank you for coming, Kai."

"Yeah, no problem. So what's up? If this is about the meeting, I got your message loud and clear," he said.

"Yes and no. I have wronged you, and it's time to rectify that mistake. When I gave you Diminish's shrinking ability, I neglected to tell you what the additional effect of it would be. The other part of her is a severe case of anhedonia. When I had it, it zapped the pleasure out of everything I did. I couldn't enjoy things I used to, and it made me sloppy. And now it's made you unfocused, unmotivated, and probably clouded your mind. The reason you couldn't notice it is because it's not as obvious as the taste bud aspect," I said.

"Wait, you gave me depression? That's a lot different from a little quirk like disliking seafood. Your power affected my brain chemistry. Nobody, what the fuck?" Kai exclaimed angrily.

"You are understandably upset; I should have mentioned it sooner. I have been balancing so many plates that a few were bound to hit the floor."

Kai looks frustrated, and I should have planned for this. How do I resolve this? I need him focused and back on track. I owe it to him, after all, for all that he's done for my goals. I have a responsibility to undo the harm I've caused. This is a problem of my own making and a consequence of my inherent selfishness. This feeling, I've only felt it once before. When I killed George Costanos, I made it quick and painless. Callback's compassion is one of my quieter personality pieces. Deception and manipulation will only screw me over in the long term. I might have to try being genuinely honest.

"Understandably upset is putting it lightly. You gave me a mental disorder; YOU FUCKED WITH MY BRAIN!" Kai shouted as he stood up from his seat.

I press my ring against the helmet, transforming it back into a mask. It lands in my hand, and I look straight at Kai. This part needs to be face-to-face.

"You're right; I'm sorry," I said to him.

"You're sorry? Wait. You're sorry?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes. I acted carelessly toward someone who has been loyal and an asset. That was unbefitting of a leader, and I owe you an apology. I can't undo what has already been done, so what do you need from me in order for this matter to be resolved and move forward?" I asked

His anger looks to have faded somewhat. But anger is an emotion that acts like a flame. If you don't make sure it is completely quenched, it can come back at any moment, just as intense as before. The two of us can't leave the room until we solve this schism I've created. We sit in silence as he thinks it over in his head while I empty my own head completely.

"How do you deal with having such unpredictable elements inside of you? How can you be sure whether your mental state is your own?" Kai asked, his frustration quickly giving way to curiosity.

"It is practice at recognizing when I have thoughts, urges, or reactions that do not align with my idea of me. But, like you experienced, sometimes things will slip by, and I'm unaware of any subtle or obvious changes. I am not infallible or without my flaws, Kai, but this kind of mistake is the worst: the preventable one. Again, I am sorry."

"I don't think in a million years would I ever expect you to apologize. You might actually be a tiny bit less cold than you look. You're right that it can't be undone, but the apology is appreciated. Honestly, now that I know that something is wrong, I can work on fixing it. I'll have to create a new Manic Panic blend that involves some SSRIs and design an automatic nanite distribution system. Since the effect isn't an actual change in brain makeup, it'll have to be adjusted to react to periods of prolonged inaction or speech as a way to target the depressive episodes. But it'll also need to take rest into consideration so I don't end up overtaxing my dopamine receptors while I sleep," Kai said to himself, forgetting my presence.

I clear my throat after Kai's hyperfocused ramblings go on for over five minutes.

"Sorry. I have so many ideas. I need to get started. After I get this sorted, I'll finish the base. Gimme five days," Kai said.

"Good. If you see Isaiah, please send him up here," I said, putting the mask to my face.

One ring tap and Nobody is back. Kai gets up to leave, still mumbling to himself. He pulls a charm off his bracelet, and it becomes a tablet. A small cloud of nanites separates from his arm, forming a stylus. Wait, shouldn't the T.I.D.E. prevent the nanites from being an arm and a stylus?

"Kai, how are you doing that? Have you figured out a way around the T.I.D.E.?" I asked.

"What? No. You can't. Oh, you're talking about my arm and stylus? I guess it does look like that. I haven't managed to circumvent the T.I.D.E. or my specialization, but I found an interesting aspect of my nanites. They can take control of each other, superceding their regular programming. So all I had to do was make a couple of nanites whose specialization was being an arm, and they overrode all the nearby nanites to make my limb. And because my arm is made of drones, regardless of whether they are inert or combined, my power allows me to do it," Kai said.

His chrome limb shifts, the hand morphing into a blade that starts at his elbow and extends three feet beyond where his wrist used to be. The blade disperses into a thick cloud of metallic notes, swirling around his entire body before coalescing into an entirely new form: a large orb at the end of a double-jointed arm with dozens of thin, spindle-like appendages. He made a better version of his old arm. Tinkerers are not as constrained by their specializations as I thought they would be.

"Keep me informed on how that distribution system development is going; there are some possibilities for your nanites if that works."

"Got it," Kai said, his arm shifting back to normal.

"Send Isaiah up here when you see him."

The room shakes violently, causing ceiling tiles to drop down. Now what the fuck is happening? A loud boom goes off, and the building shakes again. Whatever it is has to be below us. Kai and I swiftly exit the room, heading toward the elevator. The next shake makes the lights flicker, and we abandon the idea of using the elevator. Here we go again. For the first time since the old base was destroyed, I find myself having to use a long staircase. Who or what is attacking us? If the building is going to collapse, I can't waste any time. I leap down the stairs, pushing off the wall to try and maintain my speed. Bursting through the exit door, I whip my head around, trying to get a look at what's going on.

In the center of the room, Vivienne's Shifter form is facing off against Isaiah. His lower body is a coil of smoke, giving him a resemblance to a djinn. Tuesday is hanging from a large hook attached to the ceiling and cheering them on. Rorschach and Miles aren't involved in the fight; both of them are standing off to the side. But when Isaiah lands an uppercut into Vivienne's jaw, Miles begrudgingly hands a fifty-dollar bill to Rorschach. Vivienne stomps the ground in an attempt to squish the man flying at her. The room shakes from the impact, sending expanding cracks across the cement floor. These stupid motherfuckers are fighting in our under construction base?

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