"We're all here; where are they, Rorschach?" Isaiah asked.

Rorschach looks at me, and I nod. Three days since Tuesday, and Isaiah's adventure with The Merchants. Three days without a word from them. I refuse to sit around twiddling my thumbs while waiting for my summons.

"They've rented out an entire floor at The Capital for two weeks. I haven't confirmed it yet, but I'm pretty sure they're planning to make us wait to strengthen their position for when it comes time to finalize a deal. They're trying to fuck us," Rorschach said angrily.

"Well, then it's good that we're planning to fuck them first," Tuesday added.

"Wait, I thought we were just ambushing them, now we're fucking them?" Kai asked, smiling.

He seems to be doing better, or is he just faking it? I need to ask him how his project is going.

"He who fucks first gets fucked last," Isaiah added sagely.

"I thought the point was not to get fucked. Is part of the plan to let them fuck us?" Tuesday asked.

"Can you all shut the fuck up?" Rorschach hissed.

Only Miles, Vivienne, and I seem to be taking this with the seriousness it requires. V would normally have joined in. She's still upset with me. Just like how Vivienne can read body language to anticipate attacks and movement, I can read hers and see how she's feeling. Her arms are crossed, effectively creating a barrier between us. She's leaning her body away from me to distance herself from me. I'll just give her space until she comes around.

"As I was saying, they rented out an entire floor of The Capital Hotel. It's where the affluent and powerful stay when they're in the city. The rooms are large; each is a full suite, with some having three to four rooms. There are two separate Michelin-star restaurants inside the hotel. Both are exquisite, if expensive, but the room service from the hotel's kitchen leaves a lot to be desired," Rorschach continued.

"You've stayed there before?" Miles asked.

"What a cute question. No, I haven't stayed there before; I live there now. Until Kai starts construction on the apartment complex, I have nowhere else to stay," Rorschach responded with a hint of condescension.

"But isn't that extremely pricey? I didn't think any of us had gotten more than our first paycheck." Miles remarked, surprisedly.

"Miles, I don't have anything against them, but I can't live like the disparate masses. Some people can live in squalor and be happy, like baristas, indie musicians, and Libertarians. My personal finances are extensive enough to rent out my room at The Capital for quite a while. Also, thanks to Vivienne's work with Gerald McKinney and her gang of drug dealers, we have a growing nest egg for the company. Honestly, she's the only person who isn't an active drain on company resources," Rorschach said.

"Thanks, Rorschach," Vivienne said, perking up at the praise. "What does security look like on the floor?"

Great question.

"The Merchants' guards don't wear costumes, even if they are Neuvohumans. That makes it almost impossible to tell who has powers. I'm not saying this as an excuse, but to temper everyone's expectations on the intel. They have four armed guards at the elevators, two at the emergency exit stairwell, two guards per Board member, and fourteen who are patrolling the floor constantly. They're extremely coordinated; they do code word check-ins every fifteen minutes. All of them move like ex-special forces, either Marines or the BNA. They have silenced MP5s and bulletproof vests; there's no telling what possible Tinkertech they might have. There are twenty-eight total guards, plus the older male Neuvohuman that the others mentioned. If the Prophet or Alchemist is combat-oriented, then we're looking at thirty-one combatants," Rorschach reported.

"Thirty-one vs seven, I like those odds," Tuesday deadpanned.

"Four," Vivienne corrected.

"What do you mean four?" Tuesday asked.

"Nobody said that this would be a casualty-free operation. These guards are going to shoot first and ask questions later. Rorschach and Kai can't fight, and Nobody is neither bulletproof nor skilled enough to take on trained soldiers. That leaves me, Hotpants, Miles, and you," Vivienne answered frigidly.

"Everything V said is correct. My plan hinges on the assumption that whatever resistance we might run into can be handled by you four. Speaking of, Miles, how confident are you in being able to both disguise your powers and handle this non-lethally?" I asked our newest addition.

"Um, I'm alright in a scrap. It's going to be hard only to use fire, but I'll manage," he said shakily.

"That's fine. Tuesday, are you confident in being able to pacify the four elevator guards?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. I got a bunch of new tricks up my sleeve," Tuesday affirmed, pulling her sleeve up to reveal her right arm sprouting eyeballs.

"What the fuck is wrong with your arm?" Rorschach asked, her face scrunched up in disgust.

"You've manifested a new ability? Are those real, or are we hallucinating?" Kai asked.

I see Vivienne's fingers tapping against the table. She is barely restraining herself. My new helmet's ability to project faces that mimic mine one-to-one is a fantastic tool for unnerving someone, but it means I can't secretly watch people without being seen. It also makes me have to control my face actively, like when I'm not acting as Nobody. Am I acting when I put the helmet on as Nobody, or when I'm interacting with people as Eryk? Where does the pretending begin and end? Everything I do as either of my masks is all toward the goal of becoming a real person. I shake myself from my thoughts and see Tuesday sprouting fingers from her fingers like fleshy branches.

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"Kai, you get those charms I told you to?"

"Yep, got 'em right here," Kai said, shaking his left wrist to show off the bracelet.

"Rorschach, were you able to create enough of them?"

"Yes, my bugs are all ready to go," Rorschach replied.

"Then that's all the preparations done. When it comes time to face off with the three Board members, I need something from all of you." I paused for a bit of suspense. "I need you to envision the most brutal way possible you would kill them if you had to. In fact, I need you to be ready to kill them if they attack."

"Why? Nobody, it's time for you to reveal what you're planning. You said that the seven of us only have each other to trust. It's time for you to practice what you preach and start trusting the rest of us," Vivienne responded icily.

The tone of her response doesn't go unnoticed by the others. No one remarks on it; even Tuesday recognizes this isn't the time for jokes. Her question isn't disrespectful, but she knows that asking in that way was needlessly aggressive. She could have come to me privately, but chose the board meeting as the stage for the confrontation. God damn it, Vivienne. Why the fuck are you letting your issues affect the group? I have three options: reciprocate her aggression, play it off as a joke, or accept the criticism and try to make the best of it.

"Fair enough," I smiled, and my helmet mimicked my expression. "I shared my assumption about Mr. Kim's power. I believe we can exploit it by displaying a level of brutality they aren't expecting. When Mr. Kim uses his power, and he definitely will, he will attack us in an attempt to ascertain how dangerous we are. I want him to be overwhelmed when each of his attempts is met with a psychotic amount of violence. This, combined with our subduing of all of their guards and that we showed up at their doorstep, will make them reconsider whatever position of power they think they are in. It's a way of saying: we can get to you anywhere. Do not underestimate us."

All of them are watching me, soaking in my words. Even Vivienne has stopped scowling to appreciate my words. Speaking to people comes easily to me. It's all about picking the right words and the correct turn of phrase to touch people in a certain way. People think pulling on heartstrings is about being a puppet master, about complete control. It isn't; it's being a violinist in an orchestra and tuning your instrument to match theirs.

Isaiah pulls the box truck into the underground garage of The Capital. The storerooms for the hotel's kitchens are accessible via a freight elevator located on this level. I lock eyes with Vivienne, she's wearing a black hoodie and a black bandana over her mouth and nose. She gives me a nod, letting me know her head's in the game. She's been cordial since we left, but I didn't have a reason to think otherwise. Her being angry with me doesn't mean she'd intentionally fuck up the mission.

Everyone is wearing some kind of face covering. It might not matter to The Merchants, but we can't let civilians see what we look like. Rorschach traded out her usual attire for long sleeves, jeans, and running shoes. She has a balaclava on her head to cover the remainder of her tattoos. The outfit is probably worth several hundred dollars, but it is less eye-catching than usual. Miles and Kai are both wearing rubber Halloween masks, with the former being a werewolf and the latter looking like a vampire. Tuesday is wearing her bunny mask and ridiculous outfit, she refused to wear something subtler.

There are four thumps on the back of the truck, signaling the coast is clear. We're here. Vivienne throws the back open, and we pile out. Isaiah is wearing the gold hockey mask he wore when he met The Merchants. He's standing next to a set of double doors, holding them open for us.

"The moment we go through the door, every single one of you needs to follow my exact orders. A single slip-up will cause Capes or BNA to show up. No jokes, chattering, or banter," Vivienne said commandingly.

A chorus of agreements and various other acknowledgments comes from everyone. Vivienne is the one leading this mission, and I fully admit that she is infinitely better at this than I am. My pride isn't so massive that I can't recognize when someone else is a better fit. I do my best work from the shadows; fieldwork isn't my forte. Bad bosses micromanage; great bosses delegate.

"Rorschach, you've got eyes on the path?" Vivienne asked.

"Yes. The freight elevator is up ahead on the left. No one is down here, but the storeroom and kitchen have ten workers. There are some staff hallways we can use to get to the elevator. I have eyes on the floor, and nothing has changed there," Rorschach answered robotically.

She is completely different when she's working. Regardless of Vivienne and Isaiah vouching for how she performs while on the job, seeing really is believing. The crude and bitchy attitude is absent, leaving a professional in her element. She is a queen of her craft.

"Rorschach, send your bugs up through the air ducts. I want them ready and in place for our meeting," I said quickly.

Isaiah drags an oil barrel out of the back of the truck, prying the top open. Inside is a pitch-black, wet substance. If anyone inspected it closely, they would notice that it's not a liquid inside; it's full of ink centipedes sitting perfectly still. All at once, they begin to climb out of the barrel in an orderly fashion, making it look like perfect rivers of ink flowing outward. They climb the wall and slip into a nearby vent in the ceiling. Isaiah throws the barrel into the back of the box truck and shuts it without locking it. Kai walks over to the truck and places his left hand against the truck, shrinking it down to the size of a toy car. He puts it in his pocket, and we're ready to go.

We walk through the hall in a rough formation. Tuesday and Vivienne lead the way, with Rorschach, Kai, and me in the center. Isaiah and Miles bring up the rear, and we reach our destination smoothly. The freight elevator has a maximum limit of twenty tons, so even if Vivienne is forced to transform, we'd be fine. Rorschach knows our route, so she takes care of handling the lift. It's dusty inside the giant shaft. Lamps are hanging next to the four giant winches that project our group's shadows against the bare cement walls. The ride up is slow and silent, everyone respecting Vivienne's words.

This meeting has to go well. No matter what, I'm not leaving until we have an agreement or partnership. Our momentum is slowing; we're close to the storeroom. If anyone fucks this meeting up. I halt the thought before I mess up my mindset. I need to be cold, calculating, and focused. Tonight, I need to isolate and ignore any of the personality pieces that try to affect me. I focus on the memories of what it was like before I triggered. How emotionless, distant, and clinical I was. Channeling the old me, the one who murdered his bullied classmate, just to have a chance to experience what he was missing. The one who put his dog down the moment he realized his facade had been exposed. The metal door slowly begins to rise, and Tuesday slides under it to handle the staff.

Go time.

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