The hallway where the two groups will soon meet is a narrow, long one with only one room attached to it. It's a single supply closet, located about halfway down on the right side of the hall, but there are no other exits or entrances. The guards have their guns raised when they turn and see the others, but seem reluctant to disturb the rest of the hotel with shooting. Tuesday starts stretching and does a couple of jumping jacks.

"Alright, let's show 'em a lil razzle dazzle," Tuesday said.

"What do you mean?" Vivienne asked.

"We're doing this to make an impression. The point was that we were able to find them and that we took out their guys and violated their safe space without them knowing. Well, unfortunately, we fucked up the whole without them knowing part. So, why don't we send a message?" Tuesday said with a smile.

"You wanna embarrass them and make it clear we're not to be underestimated. I fucking love that. All right then, let's add some restrictions to make it more fun. Tuesday, you can't fuck with their sight. V, don't transform. And I won't use anything more than this glorious body," Isaiah said.

Vivienne looks between the two Cowls, mulling it over. Will she agree?

"Do it," Nobody said over the comms.

I turn around to look at him.

"Okay, but if this starts to jeopardize the mission, we stop. Tuesday, I want you to..." Vivienne started to say something, but she was already moving.

Tuesday runs down the hall, jumping into the air while spinning vertically. Her sleeves wildly flap as she rotates. All types of knives shoot out of her sleeves, flying at the group. A few of them hit their targets, burying themselves into shoulders, arms, legs, or getting stuck in their body armor. One poor bastard gets a cleaver to his knee. Isaiah races forward like a lion hunting a gazelle and reaches Tuesday just as they open fire on her. Guess they're past caring about the hotel. He grabs her and covers her with his body. Rounds pepper him, but they might as well be BB guns for all the damage they do. His bare back is exposed, with a giant hole where the back of the hoodie used to be. His skin doesn't have a single mark or any indication that he was just shot at. There's a pile of blunted bullets around his feet. Isaiah rips his top off, turning to face the guards. So unnecessary.

"Yeah, if it wasn't clear, we're Cowls," Isaiah said, flexing his biceps.

They don't respond to him. All the guards who fired start reloading a new magazine into their guns. The only good thing about the hallway's size is that it's cramped for the guards. They can only fit five of them side by side. Vivienne is sneaking closer to where Tuesday is, making sure that Isaiah's body hides what she's doing. The two of them start arguing just as the gunfire starts up again, and I can't hear what they're saying. Even switching between a few different bugs doesn't make their words any clearer. Vivienne smacks Tuesday, shouting something at her. Tuesday frowns but nods. What was that about?

"If it wasn't super fucking obvious, the guns aren't doing anything to me. This isn't a temporary thing; it's always on, and I can do this all night. This God bod is bulletproof, baby," Isaiah boasted.

The five in the front unstrap their MP5s and leave them on the ground. Two women, three guys, and all of them have that look. The look of someone who will not back down, no matter what happens. Both of the girls and one of the guys pull out batons that are bright red at the end—a cattle prod mixed with a billy club. The remaining two have shiny brass knuckles with a small blade on the opposite end of the thumb—the five advance together carefully in a loose formation.

"You're going to want to send a few more than this. Five is just a regular Wednesday, double digits is where shit gets spicey. I am very curious about those batons. I know a few dominatrices who would absolutely love to get their hands on one. How hot do they get?" Isaiah asked without a care in the world.

An eye manifests on the ceiling above the group. All at once, arms sprout onto the guards' armor in the back. Tuesday's created hands grab at the guns while bushels of fingers spawn near their collars. In perfect synchrony, all of the fingers touch the bare skin, and the guards simultaneously start seizing. The hands are able to rip the guns away and toss them toward the ceiling, where more arms are waiting. She's so fucking gross. The limbs work like an assembly line, passing the guns back till they're behind Isaiah, Vivienne, and Tuesday.

"Not nice, you guys. I'm going to have to take away your toys if you won't share," Tuesday taunted.

As soon as the guns have been stolen, Vivienne backs up ten feet, making sure to stay out of sight as the guards advance. She shouts, "Now!" The guards hesitate for just a second, and that's when she moves. She runs full speed toward Tuesday and Isaiah. Isaiah turns around, offering his palm to her. Vivienne leaps over a crouching Tuesday, planting her foot into his hand and pushing off as he helps launch her. Vivienne soars through the air toward Tuesday's hanging arms on the ceiling and grabs two, swinging on the hands like a trapeze to keep her momentum. Vivienne lets go and launches herself at them feet first. She crashes into the man wielding a baton. Wow. The man drops his weapon as he's sent into two of the others by her high-speed dropkick. She's not even transformed.

"OOOOOHHH! THAT WAS FUCKING SICK. ME NEXT! ME NEXT!" Tuesday shouted

Isaiah grabs her by her stupid sweater and chucks her at them. He rushes after her, and they both get involved in the melee. The rest of the guards are finally joining the fight as they pull out their close-quarters weapons. Tuesday orients herself with a roll in midair.

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"Duck!" she yelled.

Vivienne drops low and sweeps the legs out from under the two men approaching her. Tuesday lands in the middle of the rest of them, crouched on all fours like a feral animal. She gets up and twirls in place. One of the guards with the knife-knuckles takes a swing at her. She dodges under it and grabs his wrist. He screams in pain, letting the knuckles slide off his hand as blood pours from his wrist, which is missing a chunk. Tuesday opens her hand, showing off another mouth inside her palm. It's chewing on the missing piece of his wrist. What the fuck is wrong with her? She slides on the knife knuckles he dropped and uses them to stab another guy in his thigh.

Meanwhile, Vivienne knocks out the two she tripped with a jab to the head. Isaiah comes up next to her, and the two of them rush into the mob. Vivienne dodges under a baton swing that Isaiah stops with his hand. She hits the attacker's wrist, making him drop the weapon, and Isaiah shoves the man through the wall. Particles of plaster, flecks of wallpaper, and a cloud of dust burst out of the man-sized hole in the wall. The way the two of them fight together looks almost choreographed. It's like watching a movie play out in front of me. Isaiah picks up two of the guards by their necks, their eyes going wide as they struggle to break his grip. He effortlessly throws them at their comrades.

"I might be pitching a perfect game," Isaiah said, laughing.

Another guard runs for Vivienne, only for a leg to materialize and trip him chin-first into V's knee. She starts to get boxed in by a group of four. They're coordinating their baton jabs to force her against the wall. Her hoodie is gradually getting holes burned into it. She got stabbed earlier as well, didn't she? Four darts fly through the air, passing through Isaiah as he turns his torso to smoke. That feels like he cheated the conditions. They each hit one of the people surrounding Vivienne. In that moment where they're distracted, Vivienne attacks. She pops the baton out of the girl on her left's hand with a kick, moving in close to grab her left shoulder and punch her in the face three times in quick succession. The first hit dazes, the second hit bruises, and the third hit breaks her nose. She falls to the ground, blood streaming down her face. A calf kick makes the next one hesitate, and Vivienne slams a chop into his exposed neck, and he collapses, choking and gasping for air. The last two charge her, and she roundhouses one into the other. The man who took the kick to the head is out cold, and Vivienne puts the other in a chokehold until he passes out. Her outfit is in tatters, and her fists are stained red. Hell hath no fury like a bad bitch.

Tuesday dances around the room, throwing darts, knives, and even shurikens at the remaining guards. Does she buy her shit in bulk? Somehow, her aim is so precise that every sharp implement she throws narrowly misses vitals. The remaining guards are keeping their distance after the ass whooping the rest of them just got. Vivienne engages one in a brawl, narrowly avoiding the knife-knuckle punches he throws at her. She's dodging, but not retreating, standing her ground without giving an inch. The man overextends, and Vivienne grabs his wrist, rotating her back to press against his chest. She yanks his wrist, pulling down and flipping the two of them forward. They hit the ground, with his body cushioning her fall. A quick palm strike to the forehead takes him out of commission. Isaiah clotheslines one of them, and Tuesday drops an elbow on them. This is embarrassing. This might not necessarily work in our favor.

Tuesday jumps up, dropkicking one of the remaining guards. She doesn't weigh enough to do more than force the guy to stumble slightly, but it brings him toward Vivienne. Her leg whips up, descending on his shoulder like an executioner's blade. Only one guard is left in the hall. The woman has short brown hair and doesn't look intimidated after everything that just happened. She bends down, grabbing a second baton. She adopts a defensive pose, waiting for whatever comes next.

"So are we going to play rock, paper, scissors for her?" Isaiah asked.

"Sounds good to me," Tuesday agreed giddily.

"Rock. Paper. Scissors. Shoot!" The two shouted.

Isaiah puts his fist out, but Tuesday's sleeve is hanging over her hand.

"Looks like I win," Tuesday said.

"What? Sleeve isn't a fucking option. You cheated," Isaiah argued.

"I'm a fine, upstanding member of society. How dare you besmirch my honor and my good name? I'll have you hung for your words, you cur," Tuesday replied, adopting a gruff Australian accent.

"Your name is Tuesday; you don't have a good name. And you don't have any honor," Isaiah said dismissively.

"How I love this game of cat and mouse we play. The push and pull of our magnetic sexual attraction," Tuesday sighed wistfully.

"Let me make one thing clear: I would rather take a cheese grater to my balls than to fuck you."

And here I thought he loved sticking his dick in crazy. While the two of them bicker, Vivienne attacks the lone guard. The guard jabs a baton at Vivienne, which she deftly avoids. The other baton swings right at her head, and Vivienne ducks her head, only to get a boot planted in her abdomen. Vivienne grunts but stands firm and clutches the woman's leg. In one fluid movement, Vivienne hooks her right leg over the woman's and rolls, bringing them both to the ground. The guard tries to get out of Vivienne's twisting grasp but gets a hard kick to the chin for her trouble.

"Hotpants, take point. Tuesday, watch our backs. Time to meet up," Vivienne ordered.

The trio starts moving toward the conference lounge where The Merchants are holed up. Nobody, Kai, Miles, and I are walking through a hall parallel to the one where the others are, and we're due to meet them just before our destination. Nobody is blazing a path forward. He wants this. It's my job to ensure they don't take advantage of us and that we walk away with a beneficial partnership. How much are superpowers worth? How much will The Merchants be willing to pay to be the distributor of it? I'm going to bleed them fucking dry.

The Merchants haven't moved much inside their suite. I managed to sneak a single butterfly into their room. It's perched on top of the lush royal blue curtains; my creature hasn't moved in over an hour. If Nobody is right about Mr. Kim's power, then I can't afford to do anything that he might discover in his loops. The six guards and the three Neuvohumans remain. We take a right turn and see Isaiah, Vivienne, and Tuesday waiting for us. The large double door of the presidential suite is the only thing separating us from The Merchants. The door is made of stained wood, with three-foot curved bars serving as handles. Vivienne and Isaiah take positions on either side of the door. The centipedes I brought are in position above us, spreading out through all the vents. Nobody's plan is over the top, relying on theatrics and shock factor. I learned my lesson already. I'm never betting against him, no matter the odds.

"You all know what to do," Nobody said.

Tuesday walks to the door and knocks.

"Room service!"

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